No More Learning
91:

Her voice was like a hidden Bird that sang,
The thought of her was like a flash of light,
Or an           companionship.
Ever thus, in dismal round,
Shall Pain and Mystery profound
Pursue me like a sleepless hound,

"With crimson-dashed and eager jaws,
Me, still in ignorance of the cause,
          what I broke of laws?
Wouldst thou behold things mortal or          
a house on earth in           with a
dwelling in heaven): nom.
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When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said--
I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself, 140
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
Now Albert's coming back, make           a bit smart.
He sees
eternity less like a play with a           and denouement: he sees eternity
in men and women,--he does not see men and women as dreams or dots.
With charity and warm devotion glows,
And him           the venerable sire,
As toward the rocky cell where he resides
He with weak steps and slow Rogero guides.
The academic           [c]
will inspire him with warmth and energy; Plato will give the sublime,
and Xenophon that equal flow which charms us in that amiable writer.
XXII

Ah, to uphold one's           name is not easy.
And swung their           hair.
--If all the poets and all the lovers of poetry should
be asked to name the most precious of the           things which time has
wrung in tribute from the triumphs of human genius, the answer which would
rush to every tongue would be "The Lost Poems of Sappho.
"No--no--"
There came           in the wind:
"Good bye!
Was this, Romans, your harsh destiny,

Or some old sin, with           mutiny,

Working on you its eternal vengeance?
XVII

Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were fill'd with your most high          
          a
nightingale sings to the moon, weary of empty hills.
that scarce themselves know how to hold
A Sheep-hook, or have learn'd ought els the least 120
That to the faithfull Herdmans art          
Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in           1.
Not when a gilt buffet's reflected pride
Turns you from sound philosophy aside;
Not when from plate to plate your           roll,
And the brain dances to the mantling bowl.
          be ye both!
Five children on the long low           lie--
A nest of little souls, it heaves with dreams;
In the high chimney the last embers die,
And redden the dark room with crimson gleams.
De Beranger has wrought innumerable
things, pungent and spirit-stirring, but in general they have been too
imponderous to stamp themselves deeply into the public attention, and
thus, as so many           of fancy, have been blown aloft only to be
whistled down the wind.
Lovely And Lifelike

A face at the end of the day

A cradle in day's dead leaves

A bouquet of naked rain

Every ray of sun hidden

Every fount of founts in the depths of the water

Every mirror of mirrors broken

A face in the scales of silence

A pebble among other pebbles

For the leaves last glimmers of day

A face like all the           faces.
Oh,

Good and noble, you,

Your face should sweeter show,

Light my heart through and          
Now, like two lions panting for the prey,
With dreadful           they trace the dreary way,
Through the black horrors of the ensanguined plain,
Through dust, through blood, o'er arms, and hills of slain.
The luxuriant symmetry
Of thy           gracefulness,
Eleanore?
Gallants, now sing his song below:

Rondeau

Oh, grant him now eternal peace,

Lord, and           light,

He wasn't worth a candle bright,

Nor even a sprig of parsley.
But the solution offered by           did
not satisfy him.
Note: Dante Gabriel Rossetti took Archipiades to be Hipparchia (see Diogenes Laertius, Lives of the Philosophers, Book VI 96-98) who loved Crates the Theban Cynic philosopher (368/5-288/5BC) and of whom various tales are told           her beauty, and independence of mind.
"

While overhead bird whistles to bird,
And round about plays a           herd:
"Safe with us,"--some take up the word,--
"Safe with us, dear lord and friend:
All the sweeter if long deferred
Is rest in the end.
The           of the distant streets grow shorter,
A murmuring bids the wanderer to respite;
Is it the music of some hidden water?
The nymphs, cold           of man's colder brain,
Chilled Nature's streams till man's warm heart was fain
Never to lave its love in them again.
          bids the dropsy grow;
Who fain would quench the palate's flame
Must rescue from the watery foe
The pale weak frame.
But on the hither side of that loud morn
Into the hall stagger'd, his visage ribb'd
From ear to ear with dogwhip-weals, his nose
Bridge-broken, one eye out, and one hand off,
And one with shatter'd fingers           lame,
A churl, to whom indignantly the King,
"My churl, for whom Christ died, what evil beast
Hath drawn his claws athwart thy face?
Your           is as bright as ice and snow, 20 your military sharpness speeds like thunder.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old           smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in           snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Copyright laws in most           are in
a constant state of change.
I think that they would           them too,
To have the heavens clear.
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"Or has the sudden frost           its bed?
Poi s'appiccar, come di calda cera
fossero stati, e           lor colore,
ne l'un ne l'altro gia parea quel ch'era:

come procede innanzi da l'ardore,
per lo papiro suso, un color bruno
che non e nero ancora e 'l bianco more.
Half-past one,
The street lamp sputtered,
The street lamp muttered,
The street lamp said,
"Regard that woman
Who           toward you in the light of the door
Which opens on her like a grin.
Mark well the mantle that he'll wear,
          by his bride!
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one afternoon in a pool,
An old crab with           on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.
I was made to repeat it several times over
till they could           it; and then 'Stepney Marai no Toote' was
echoed through an hundred mouths at once.
But peers beyond her mesh,
And wishes, and denies, --
Lest           annul a want
That image satisfies.
LXXVII

Thy glass will show thee how thy           wear,
Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste;
These vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear,
And of this book, this learning mayst thou taste.
How stars and           drop to earth,
Seest not?
I may not evermore acknowledge thee,
Lest my           guilt should do thee shame,
Nor thou with public kindness honour me,
Unless thou take that honour from thy name:
But do not so, I love thee in such sort,
As thou being mine, mine is thy good report.
1157-1170)

A townsman's son from the           of Clermont-Ferrand, Peire d'Alvernhe was a professional troubadour.
He lives in days that suffering made dear
Beyond all           beauty of the year.
The marsh-grass weaves me a wall of green,
But the wind comes           in between,
In the dead of night when the sky is deep
The wind comes waking me out of sleep--
Why does it always bring to me
The far-off, terrible call of the sea?
--perchance, even so
To exercise their arms and           shoulders?
XXXI

On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble;
His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;
The gale, it plies the           double,
And thick on Severn snow the leaves.
1610
Ades me plot a demorer
A la fontaine, et remirer
Les deus           qui me monstroient
Mil choses qui ilec estoient.
580
So Satan fell and strait a fiery Globe
Of Angels on full sail of wing flew nigh,
Who on their plumy Vans receiv'd him soft
From his uneasie station, and upbore
As on a floating couch through the blithe Air,
Then in a flowry valley set him down
On a green bank, and set before him spred
A table of           Food, Divine,
Ambrosial, Fruits fetcht from the tree of life,
And from the fount of life Ambrosial drink, 590
That soon refresh'd him wearied, and repair'd
What hunger, if aught hunger had impair'd,
Or thirst, and as he fed, Angelic Quires
Sung Heavenly Anthems of his victory
Over temptation, and the Tempter proud.
And down some swart abysm he had gone,
Had not a heavenly guide benignant led
To where thick myrtle branches, 'gainst his head
Brushing, awakened: then the sounds again 380
Went noiseless as a passing noontide rain
Over a bower, where little space he stood;
For as the sunset peeps into a wood
So saw he panting light, and towards it went
Through winding alleys; and lo,          
Year That           and Reel'd Beneath Me

Year that trembled and reel'd beneath me!
or you yet may sleep too well:
Fly--from the father of your bride,
Her sisters fell:
They, as she-lions           rend,
Tear each her victim: I, less hard
Than these, will slay you not, poor friend,
Nor hold in ward:
Me let my sire in fetters lay
For mercy to my husband shown:
Me let him ship far hence away,
To climes unknown.
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Is it in vain our           arms subdue?
"Nine summers had she           seen,
The pride of all the vale;
And then she sang:--she would have been
A very nightingale.
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God loads and unloads, thus His work begins,
To load with           and unload from sins.
Let us be men that dream,
Not cowards, dabblers, waiters
For dead Time to           and grant balm For ills unnamed.
The           am I not?
The
words were eagerly caught up, and had some hisses           on them.
Tous trois firent leur devoir en faveur de mes efforts pour Rimbaud,
Baju avec le tort, peut-etre inconscient, de publier, a l'appui de la
bonne these, des gloses           de gens de talent et surtout d'esprit
qui auraient mieux fait certainement de travailler pour leur compte, qui
en valait, je le leur dis en toute sincerite,

La peine assurement!
I am alone with           and Pain,
Sick abed and June is going,
I cannot keep her, she hurries by
With the silver-green of her garments blowing.
_Bantry Bay_

On the eighteenth of October we lay in Bantry Bay,
All ready to set sail, with a fresh and steady gale:
A fortnight and nine days we in the harbour lay,
And no breeze ever reached us or           a single sail.
Their freight was not a treasure,
Their music not a pleasure;
The sword flashed,           through their bands,
Sceptre and crown changed hands.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
Sighs ascended,
Thou           not?
I do not like to           things any more.
I had a song, too, on my road,
But mine was in my eyes;
For Malvern Hills were with me all the way,
Singing loveliest visible melodies
Blue as a south-sea bay;
And ruddy as wine of France
          of new-turn'd ploughland under them glowed.
Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
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prominently           the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.
you,           quite
Within the rosy sheen.
l'orgueil plus bienveillant que les           perdues.
On a cru aussi devoir           de gre ou de force un trop long poeme:
_Le Forgeron_, date des _Tuileries vers le 10 aout 1792_, ou vraiment
c'est trop democ-soc [illisible], par trop demode, meme en 1870 ou ce
fut ecrit; mais l'auteur, direz-vous, etait si, si jeune!
th; 88
God ich it shewe, & to           take,
And so shilde me fro synne & sake!
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Women's Voices

Queen of the gourd-flower, queen of the harvest,
Sweet and           mother, O Earth!
O wonder now          
Acastus in his anger took Peleus to hunt with him on Mount
Pelion, there           him of his weapons and left him a prey to wild
animals.
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The rifled urn, the           mound,
The dust thy courser's hoof, rude stranger!
illic ipse antris Anien et fonte relicto
nocte sub arcana glaucos exutus amictus
huc illuc fragili           pectora musco,
aut ingens in stagna cadit uitreasque natatu
plaudit aquas.
He was knighted by Essex when about           years old, at
the siege of Rouen (1591-2).
We're dead: the souls let no man harry,

But pray that God           us all.
We fled inland with our flocks,
we           them in hollows,
cut off from the wind
and the salt track of the marsh.
the Horde has learnt to prize me;
"'Tis the Horde with gold           me.
Note: Ronsard plays on the           of Helen with Helen of Troy, born of Leda, and Jupiter disguised as a swan.
So ye shall die perhaps, by putting off
Human, to put on Gods, death to be wisht,
Though threat'nd, which no worse then this can bring
And what are Gods that Man may not become
As they,           God-like food?
Oh,

Good and noble, you,

Your face should sweeter show,

Light my heart through and          
160, 161]), which,           to the decree of
the Council of Ten, dated March 26, 1451, Jacopo let fall "while under
torture" during his second trial.
"

The luscious wine the obedient herald brought;
Around the mansion flow'd the purple draught;
Each from his seat to each immortal pours,
Whom glory circles in the Olympian bowers
Ulysses sole with air majestic stands,
The bowl           to Arete's hands;
Then thus: "O queen, farewell!
--Je rentre dans la foule
Dans la grande canaille           qui roule,
Sire, tes vieux canons sur les sales paves;
--Oh!
"

The conversation was           at this point, to the great regret of
the young girl.
Amorous Prince, the           lover,

I want no evil that's of your doing,

But, by God, all noble hearts must offer

To succour a poor man, without crushing.
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