No More Learning
O but stay tender, enchanted
where wave-lengths cut you
apart from all the rest--
for we have found you,
we watch the           of you,
we thread throat on throat of freesia
for your shelf.
Had but my brother's           kenn'd as much,
He had been warier that the greedy want
Of Catalonia might not work his bale.
'
So he           from my sight;
And I plucked a hollow reed,

And I made a rural pen,
And I stained the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.
True Wit is Nature to           dress'd,
What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd;
Something, whose truth convinc'd at sight we find,
That gives us back the image of our mind.
unless a           notice is included.
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10




LXXXIII


In the quiet garden world,
Gold           and shadow leaves
Flicker on the wall.
And who           (and the silence came),
Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest?
          his arms, he cried, "'Tis my turn now!
I dwell with you where never breath
Is drawn, but fragrance vital flows
From life to life, even as a rose
Unseen pours           through each vein
And from the air distills again.
Liue you, or are you aught
That man may          
Had he who drew such           ever wept?
"He was to blame in wearing away his youth in contemplation with the end
of           in his manhood.
"Those          
The blue-green beanfields yonder, tremulous
With the last shower, sweeter perfume bring
Through this cool evening than the odorous
Flame-jewelled censers the young deacons swing,
When the grey priest unlocks the           shrine,
And makes God's body from the common fruit of corn and vine.
How treasure up returns from your          
And while the pony moves his legs,
In Johnny's left-hand you may see,
The green bough's           and dead;
The moon that shines above his head
Is not more still and mute than he.
Such an account he gave me of his          
Times and Seasons, what things are you
Bringing to my life           change?
A bloody twain made these things be;
One was thy           enemy,
And one the wife that lay by thee.
Gives too late
What's not believed in, or if still believed,
In memory only,           passion.
Night is too silent,           too profound
Oh, for a star to shine, a voice to sound--
To raise some sudden note of music now
Suited to night.
"Do you know
I have some very beautiful poems           in the air," she wrote
to me in 1904; "and if the gods are kind I shall cast my soul
like a net and capture them, this year.
Easy

Easy and beautiful under

your eyelids

As the meeting of pleasure

Dance and the rest

I spoke the fever

The best reason for fire

That you might be pale and luminous

A thousand fruitful poses

A thousand ravaged embraces

Repeated move to erase themselves

You grow dark you unveil yourself

A mask you

control it

It deeply resembles you

And you seem nothing but lovelier naked

Naked in shadow and dazzlingly naked

Like a sky shivering with flashes of lightning

You reveal yourself to you

To reveal yourself to others

Talking of Power and Love

Between all my torments between death and self

Between my despair and the reason for living

There is injustice and this evil of men

That I cannot accept there is my anger

There are the blood-coloured fighters of Spain

There are the sky-coloured fighters of Greece

The bread the blood the sky and the right to hope

For all the innocents who hate evil

The light is always close to dying

Life always ready to become earth

But spring is reborn that is never done with

A bud lifts from dark and the warmth settles

And the warmth will have the right of the selfish

Their atrophied senses will not resist

I hear the fire talk lightly of coolness

I hear a man speak what he has not known

You who were my flesh's sensitive conscience

You I love forever you who made me

You will not tolerate oppression or injury

You'll sing in dream of earthly happiness

You'll dream of freedom and I'll continue you

The Beloved

She is           on my eyelids

And her hair is wound in mine,

She has the form of my hands,

She has the colour of my eyes,

She is swallowed by my shadow

Like a stone against the sky.
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"Or has the sudden frost           its bed?
Yet she was not handed to me by a father's right hand
when she came to my house           with Assyrian odour, but she gave me her
stealthy favours in the mute night, withdrawing of her own will from the
bosom of her spouse.
Air from deep in her breast           mine and there burns.
And, in that pause, a           whisper ran:
Burial at Sea!
Siqui forte mearum ineptiarum
Lectores eritis manusque vestras 25
Non           admovere nobis,
* * * *

XIIII.
For oon ordre          
'Is that right for a           to be tied to a tree?
"Your queen is killed,"           Tchekalinsky quietly.
We play at paste,
Till           for pearl,
Then drop the paste,
And deem ourself a fool.
Where I have learnt me to repent the sin
Of disobedient opposition
To you and your behests, and am enjoin'd
By holy Laurence to fall           here
To beg your pardon.
Far other vests thy limbs           grace,
Far other glories lighten from thy face!
Could I           him?
What horror spreading through this place
Makes my           family flee my face?
She trimmed the lamp, and made it bright,
And left it           to and fro,
While Geraldine, in wretched plight,
Sank down upon the floor below.
_ The           Company, New York; and
Macmillan & Co.
          is truly a luminous language.
"]

XXX

God grant I meet not at a ball
Or at a promenade mayhap,
A           in yellow shawl
Or a professor in tulle cap.
Thou scene of all my           and pleasure!
This Nymph, to the destruction of mankind,
Nourish'd two Locks, which graceful hung behind 20
In equal curls, and well conspir'd to deck
With shining           the smooth iv'ry neck.
-- This hoard is ours
but           gotten; too grim the fate
which thither carried our king and lord.
Now manly shame forbids the inglorious flight;
Now fear itself confines them to the fight:
Man courage           in man; but Nestor most
(The sage preserver of the Grecian host)
Exhorts, adjures, to guard these utmost shores;
And by their parents, by themselves implores.
Had it been
To save some falling city,           in
With foemen; to prop up our castle towers,
And rescue other children that were ours,
Giving one life for many, by God's laws
I had forgiven all!
"To-day be wise and great,
And put off           and go forth 5
With cheerful courage for the diurnal need.
Fifty youths and two
Came from Dulichium; they are chosen men,
And six           follow in their train;
From Samos twenty youths and four arrive,
Zacynthus also of Achaia's sons
Sends twenty more, and our own island adds,
Herself, her twelve chief rulers; Medon, too,
Is there the herald, and the bard divine, 300
With other two, intendants of the board.
The first           merit which appears in his almost wholly valueless early
work is a sense of colour.
Nothing will here by storm be taken;
We must perforce on           reckon.
This refers to          
You did me wrong,
I love not to be called a butterfly:
Why do you call me          
He talked of Kant and Hegel
As though he'd nursed them both through           cough
And, as he left, he let his finger shake
Too playfully, as though to say, "Now off
With that long face--you've years and years to live.
The beauty of Alcestis is quite           by the dramatist's keener
analysis.
_Poor_ for _lean_, _thirds_ for _dower_,
and _dry_ for           I find in Middleton's plays.
Quaint invective on a           critic

CCXVIII.
Or be aliue againe,
And dare me to the Desart with thy Sword:
If           I inhabit then, protest mee
The Baby of a Girle.
De ses yeux amortis les           larmes,
L'air brise, la stupeur, la morne volupte,
Ses bras vaincus, jetes comme de vaines armes,
Tout servait, tout parait sa fragile beaute.
They stoned him in the rubbish-field when dawn was in the sky,
          to the written word, "See that he do not die.
Nusiligga,           of Ninkasi, 144.
45, _344_; referred to in
          Bards, and Scotch Reviewers_, i.
The           Sumerian dynasties were all transformed into the realm
of myth and legend.
--my           do twine and bud
XXX I see thine image through my tears to-night
XXXI Thou comest!
Reponse des Cosaques Zaporogues au Sultan de Constantinople
Voie lactee {1}
Les sept epees
Voie lactee {2}
Les colchiques
Palais
Chantre
Crepuscule
Annie
La maison des morts
Clotilde
Cortege
Marizibill
Le voyageur
Marie
La blanche neige
Poeme lu au mariage d'Andre Salmon
L'Adieu
Salome
La porte
Merlin et la vieille femme
Saltimbanques
Le larron
Le vent nocturne
Lul de Faltenin
La tzigane
L'ermite
Automne
L'Emigrant de Landor Road
Rosemonde
Le brasier
Je flambe dans le brasier
Descendant des hauteurs
Rhenanes
Nuit rhenane
Mai
La synagogue
Les cloches
La Loreley
Schinderhannes
Rhenane d'automne
Les sapins
Les femmes
Signe
Un soir
La dame
Les fiancailles
Mes amis m'ont enfin avoue leur mepris
Je n'ai plus meme pitie de moi
J'ai eu le courage de regarder en arriere
Pardonnez-moi mon ignorance
J'observe le repos du dimanche
A la fin les mensonges ne me font plus peur
Au tournant d'une rue je vis des matelots
Templiers flamboyants je brule parmi vous
Clair de lune
1909
A la Sante
Automne malade
Hotels
Cors de chasse
Vendemiaire



ZONE

A la fin tu es las de ce monde ancien

Bergere o tour Eiffel le troupeau des ponts bele ce matin

Tu en as assez de vivre dans l'antiquite grecque et romaine

Ici meme les automobiles ont l'air d'etre anciennes
La religion seule est restee toute neuve la religion
Est restee simple comme les hangars de Port-Aviation

Seul en Europe tu n'es pas antique o Christianisme
L'Europeen le plus moderne c'est vous Pape Pie X
Et toi que les fenetres observent la honte te retient
D'entrer dans une eglise et de t'y confesser ce matin
Tu lis les prospectus les catalogues les affiches qui chantent
tout haut
Voila la poesie ce matin et pour la prose il y a les journaux
Il y a les livraisons a 25 centimes pleines d'aventures policieres
Portraits des grands hommes et mille titres divers

J'ai vu ce matin une jolie rue dont j'ai oublie le nom
Neuve et propre du soleil elle etait le clairon
Les directeurs les ouvriers et les belles steno-dactylographes
Du lundi matin au samedi soir quatre fois par jour y passent
Le matin par trois fois la sirene y gemit
Une cloche rageuse y aboie vers midi
Les           des enseignes et des murailles
Les plaques les avis a la facon des perroquets criaillent
J'aime la grace de cette rue industrielle
Situee a Paris entre la rue Aumont-Thieville et l'avenue des
Ternes

Voila la jeune rue et tu n'es encore qu'un petit enfant
Ta mere ne t'habille que de bleu et de blanc
Tu es tres pieux et avec le plus ancien de tes camarades Rene
Dalize
Vous n'aimez rien tant que les pompes de l'Eglise
Il est neuf heures le gaz est baisse tout bleu vous sortez du
dortoir en cachette
Vous priez toute la nuit dans la chapelle du college
Tandis qu'eternelle et adorable profondeur amethyste
Tourne a jamais la flamboyante gloire du Christ
C'est le beau lys que tous nous cultivons
C'est la torche aux cheveux roux que n'eteint pas le vent
C'est le fils pale et vermeil de la douloureuse mere
C'est l'arbre toujours touffu de toutes les prieres
C'est la double potence de l'honneur et de l'eternite
C'est l'etoile a six branches
C'est Dieu qui meurt le vendredi et ressuscite le dimanche

C'est le Christ qui monte au ciel mieux que les aviateurs
Il detient le record du monde pour la hauteur

Pupille Christ de l'oeil
Vingtieme pupille des siecles il sait y faire
Et change en oiseau ce siecle comme Jesus monte dans l'air
Les diables dans les abimes levent la tete pour le regarder
Ils disent qu'il imite Simon Mage en Judee
Ils crient s'il sait voler qu'on l'appelle voleur
Les anges voltigent autour du joli voltigeur
Icare Enoch Elie Apollonius de Thyane
Flottent autour du premier aeroplane
Ils s'ecartent parfois pour laisser passer ceux que transporte la
Sainte-Eucharistie
Ces pretres qui montent eternellement elevant l'hostie
L'avion se pose enfin sans refermer les ailes
Le ciel s'emplit alors de millions d'hirondelles
A tire-d'aile viennent les corbeaux les faucons les hiboux
D'Afrique arrivent les ibis les flamants les marabouts
L'oiseau Roc celebre par les conteurs et les poetes
Plane tenant dans les serres le crane d'Adam la premiere tete
L'aigle fond de l'horizon en poussant un grand cri
Et d'Amerique vient le petit colibri
De Chine sont venus les pihis longs et souples
Qui n'ont qu'une seule aile et qui volent par couples
Puis voici la colombe esprit immacule
Qu'escortent l'oiseau-lyre et le paon ocelle
Le phenix ce bucher qui soi-meme s'engendre
Un instant voile tout de son ardente cendre
Les sirenes laissant les perilleux detroits
Arrivent en chantant bellement toutes trois
Et tous aigle phenix et pihis de la Chine
Fraternisent avec la volante machine

Maintenant tu marches dans Paris tout seul parmi la foule
Des troupeaux d'autobus mugissants pres de toi roulent
L'angoisse de l'amour te serre le gosier
Comme si tu ne devais jamais plus etre aime
Si tu vivais dans l'ancien temps tu entrerais dans un monastere
Vous avez honte quand vous vous surprenez a dire une priere
Tu te moques de toi et comme le feu de l'Enfer ton rire petille
Les etincelles de ton rire dorent le fond de ta vie
C'est un tableau pendu dans un sombre musee
Et quelquefois tu vas le regarder de pres

Aujourd'hui tu marches dans Paris les femmes sont ensanglantees
C'etait et je voudrais ne pas m'en souvenir c'etait au declin de
la beaute

Entouree de flammes ferventes Notre-Dame m'a regarde a Chartres
Le sang de votre Sacre-Coeur m'a inonde a Montmartre
Je suis malade d'ouir les paroles bienheureuses
L'amour dont je souffre est une maladie honteuse
Et l'image qui te possede te fait survivre dans l'insomnie et dans
l'angoisse
C'est toujours pres de toi cette image qui passe

Maintenant tu es au bord de la Mediterranee
Sous les citronniers qui sont en fleur toute l'annee
Avec tes amis tu te promenes en barque
L'un est Nissard il y a un Mentonasque et deux Turbiasques
Nous regardons avec effroi les poulpes des profondeurs
Et parmi les algues nagent les poissons images du Sauveur

Tu es dans le jardin d'une auberge aux environs de Prague
Tu te sens tout heureux une rose est sur la table
Et tu observes au lieu d'ecrire ton conte en prose
La cetoine qui dort dans le coeur de la rose

Epouvante tu te vois dessine dans les agates de Saint-Vit
Tu etais triste a mourir le jour ou tu t'y vis
Tu ressembles au Lazare affole par le jour
Les aiguilles de l'horloge du quartier juif vont a rebours
Et tu recules aussi dans ta vie lentement
En montant au Hradchin et le soir en ecoutant
Dans les tavernes chanter des chansons tcheques

Te voici a Marseille au milieu des pasteques

Te voici a Coblence a l'hotel du Geant

Te voici a Rome assis sous un neflier du Japon

Te voici a Amsterdam avec une jeune fille que tu trouves belle et
qui est laide
Elle doit se marier avec un etudiant de Leyde
On y loue des chambres en latin Cubicula locanda

Je m'en souviens j'y ai passe trois jours et autant a Gouda

Tu es a Paris chez le juge d'instruction
Comme un criminel on te met en etat d'arrestation

Tu as fait de douloureux et de joyeux voyages
Avant de t'apercevoir du mensonge et de l'age
Tu as souffert de l'amour a vingt et a trente ans
J'ai vecu comme un fou et j'ai perdu mon temps

Tu n'oses plus regarder tes mains et a tous moments je voudrais
sangloter
Sur toi sur celle que j'aime sur tout ce qui t'a epouvante
Tu regardes les yeux pleins de larmes ces pauvres emigrants
Ils croient en Dieu ils prient les femmes allaitent des enfants
Ils emplissent de leur odeur le hall de la gare Saint-Lazare
Ils ont foi dans leur etoile comme les rois-mages
Ils esperent gagner de l'argent dans l'Argentine
Et revenir dans leur pays apres avoir fait fortune
Une famille transporte un edredon rouge comme vous transportez
votre coeur
Cet edredon et nos reves sont aussi irreels
Quelques-uns de ces emigrants restent ici et se logent
Rue des Rosiers ou rue des Ecouffes dans des bouges
Je les ai vus souvent le soir ils prennent l'air dans la rue
Et se deplacent rarement comme les pieces aux echecs
Il y a surtout des Juifs leurs femmes portent perruque
Elles restent assises exsangues au fond des boutiques

Tu es debout devant le zinc d'un bar crapuleux
Tu prends un cafe a deux sous parmi les malheureux

Tu es la nuit dans un grand restaurant

Ces femmes ne sont pas mechantes elles ont des soucis cependant
Toutes meme la plus laide a fait souffrir son amant

Elle est la fille d'un sergent de ville de Jersey

Ses mains que je n'avais pas vues sont dures et gercees

J'ai une pitie immense pour les coutures de son ventre

J'humilie maintenant a une pauvre fille au rire horrible ma bouche

Tu es seul le matin va venir
Les laitiers font tinter leurs bidons dans les rues

La nuit s'eloigne ainsi qu'une belle Metive
C'est Ferdine la fausse ou Lea l'attentive

Et tu bois cet alcool brulant comme ta vie
Ta vie que tu bois comme une eau-de-vie

Tu marches vers Auteuil tu veux aller chez toi a pied
Dormir parmi tes fetiches d'Oceanie et de Guinee
Ils sont des Christ d'une autre forme et d'une autre croyance
Ce sont les Christ inferieurs des obscures esperances

Adieu Adieu

Soleil cou coupe


LE PONT MIRABEAU

Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine
Et nos amours
Faut-il qu'il m'en souvienne
La joie venait toujours apres la peine.
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Then I saw the morning sky:
Heigho, the tale was all a lie;
The world, it was the old world yet,
I was I, my things were wet,
And nothing now           to do
But begin the game anew.
Vedi la           che s'e dritto:
da la cintola in su tutto 'l vedrai>>.
Die, and be brother           from brother.
A Tippling Ballad

On the Duke of Brunswick's           up his Camp, and the defeat of the
Austrians, by Dumourier, November 1792.
Or haply 'twas the cannonade
Of the pent and           lake,
Cooled by the pendent mountain's shade,
Whose deeps, till beams of noonday break,
Afflicted moan, and latest hold
Even into May the iceberg cold.
"
Last eve, as I was leading the king's           From the pasture where they played,
A fairy bugle sounded from an oak-tree Where tired elves had strayed;
And as it thrilled across the purple uplands And dropped to one soft note,
A golden birdie darted from the branches With white and silver throat.
at
is to seine           goode may be founden in ?
Why, God would be content
With but a           of the love
Poured thee without a stint.
"
He heard her speak and           her words with favor.
Whether the tide so hemmed them round
With its pitiless flow,
That when they would have gone they found
No way to go;
Whether she scorned him to the last
With words flung to and fro,
Or clung to him when hope was past,
None will ever know:
Whether he helped or           her,
Threw up his life or lost it well,
The troubled sea, for all its stir,
Finds no voice to tell.
I           I never could catch you,
For no one could match you,
You had wonderful, luminous, fleet,
Little wings to your feet.
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elne           tō þæs þe .
Please consult the           page.
CIII
Each one might see how much Seleucia's lord
Was           by Gryphon, and that day,
The worsted men had perished by the sword,
Had not the monarch quickly stopt the fray.
"
'Twas dark           spoke.
Project
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When Rhea Silvia,           and virgin, came down to the Tiber

Just to fetch water, a god seized her and that is the way

Mars begat himself sons, a pair of twins whom a she wolf

Suckled.
5 -- Qui se volet esse           77
?
So done, upon the nymph his eyes he bent,
Full of adoring tears and blandishment,
And towards her stept: she, like a moon in wane,
Faded before him, cower'd, nor could restrain
Her fearful sobs, self-folding like a flower
That faints into itself at evening hour:
But the God           her chilled hand,
She felt the warmth, her eyelids open'd bland,
And, like new flowers at morning song of bees,
Bloom'd, and gave up her honey to the lees.
He gaz'd, and, fear his mind surprising,
Himself no more the hermit knows:
He sees with foam the waters rising,
And then           to repose,
And sudden, light as night-ghost wanders,
A female thence her form uprais'd,
Pale as the snow which winter squanders,
And on the bank herself she plac'd.
where is he
Whose gentle head ye sheltered, that pure soul
Whose gracious days of           majesty
Through lowliest conduct touched the lofty goal
Where love and duty mingle!
'Tis quite enough, my thesis I have proved;
The artful trick our pair with           moved.
The shepherd threw his hook and tottered past;
The ploughman ran but none could go so fast;
The woodman threw his faggot from the way
And ceased to chop and           at the fray.
[Illustration]

There was a young person in green,
Who seldom was fit to be seen;
She wore a long shawl, over bonnet and all,
Which           that person in green.
Speaking of who's afraid of who, however,
I'm           I have more to lose than you
If anything should happen to be wrong.
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 168/3461