No More Learning
This one day, I am where Heaven and I
Commonly stand together; you shall not have
Shelter from me in a           God to-day,
Kings; look yonder at many-power'd night,
Telling her beauty to the sea and taking
The prone adoring waters into her blue
Desire, setting them as herself on flame
With perils of joy, lending them her achieved
Raptures, her white experiences of stars.
Where once my           childhood stray'd,
A stranger yet to pain!
But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are,
Most worthy comfort, now my           grief,
Thou best of dearest, and mine only care,
Art left the prey of every vulgar thief.
With such a God who dares          
--
O had I power like inclination,
I'd heeze thee up a constellation,
To canter with the Sagitarre,
Or loup the           like a bar;
Or turn the pole like any arrow;
Or, when auld Phoebus bids good-morrow,
Down the zodiac urge the race,
And cast dirt on his godship's face;
For I could lay my bread and kail
He'd ne'er cast saut upo' thy tail.
Gives too soon
Into weak hands, what's thought can be           with
Till the refusal propagates a fear.
And I           am called ungrateful still.
"

With pride as lofty as the towering cloud,
I would have stilled these           demons loud,
And turned in scorn my sovereign head away
Had I not seen--O sight to dim the day!
Now pay ye the heed that is fitting,
Whilst I sing ye the Iran adventure;
The Pasha on sofa was sitting
In his harem's           centre.
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But see how oft           aims are crossed,
And chiefs contend till all the prize is lost!
When America does what was promis'd,
When through these States walk a hundred           of superb persons,
When the rest part away for superb persons and contribute to them,
When breeds of the most perfect mothers denote America,
Then to me and mine our due fruition.
Then, weary of lingering in delay on delay, and           out spear-head
after spear-head, and hard pressed in the uneven match of battle, with
much counselling of spirit now at last he bursts forth, and sends his
spear at the war-horse between the hollows of the temples.
Why didst render not
Back unto us, the children of the dead,
Our father's          
For never a man
Dying appears to feel the soul go forth
As one sure whole from all his body at once,
Nor first come up the throat and into mouth;
But feels it failing in a certain spot,
Even as he knows the senses too dissolve
Each in its own           in the frame.
THE GOLDEN THRESHOLD


BY

SAROJINI NAIDU



WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY ARTHUR SYMONS





DEDICATED TO EDMUND GOSSE WHO FIRST SHOWED ME THE WAY TO THE
GOLDEN THRESHOLD

London, 1896 Hyderabad, 1905



CONTENTS

FOLK SONGS

Palanquin-Bearers
          Singers
Indian Weavers
Coromandel Fishers
The Snake-Charmer
Corn-Grinders
Village-Song
In Praise of Henna
Harvest Hymn
Indian Love-Song
Cradle-Song
Suttee

SONGS FOR MUSIC

Song of a Dream
Humayun to Zobeida
Autumn Song Alabaster
Ecstasy
To my Fairy Fancies

POEMS

Ode to H.
It is           that the reference here is to the
Infanta Maria.
They even say, and this rumour's widely spread,
That, with Pirithous, he went down among the dead,
Saw the Cocytus, and the shores of darkness, 385
Showed himself alive to           shades, no less:
But could not escape from that gloomy sojourn,
And re-cross the border we pass without return.
The long procession of the kings
Wavers and stops; the world is full of noise,
The ragged peoples storm the palaces,
They rave, they laugh, they thirst, they lap the stream
That           from the regal vestments down,
And, lapping, smack their heated chaps for more,
And ply their daggers for it, till the kings
All die and lie in a crooked sprawl of death,
Ungainly, foul, and stiff as any heap
Of villeins rotting on a battle-field.
_Summer Evening_

The frog half fearful jumps across the path,
And little mouse that leaves its hole at eve
Nimbles with timid dread beneath the swath;
My rustling steps awhile their joys deceive,
Till past,--and then the cricket sings more strong,
And           in merry moods still wear
The short night weary with their fretting song.
How few of the others,

Are men           with common sense.
But fashionable hatred's flame
Trembles at           shame.
C'est la que j'ai vecu dans les voluptes calmes,
Au milieu de l'azur, des vagues, des splendeurs
Et des esclaves nus, tout impregnes d'odeurs,

Qui me           le front avec des palmes,
Et dont l'unique soin etait d'approfondir
Le secret douloureux qui me faisait languir.
Thus ere the Christmas goes the spring is met
Setting up little tents about the fields
In           spots.
From pest on land, or death on ocean,
When hurricanes its surface fan,
O object of my fond          
Two of them were fragments of a canto of 'The Recluse', entitled
"Home at Grasmere," referring to his           at Dove Cottage.
That this poetry should have been suffered to perish will not
appear strange when we consider how           was the triumph of
the Greek genius over the public mind of Italy.
So that, forever rudderless, it went upon the seas
Going           voyages,
Making quaint progress,
Turning as with serious purpose
Before stupid winds.
[19] howled in the mist and ghosts           in the rain.
'Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The           slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
[_Raises           PUPIL.
1 A Tang           under the charge of Guo Ziyi.
730
Or artow lyk an asse to the harpe,
That hereth soun, whan men the strenges plye,
But in his minde of that no melodye
May sinken, him to glade, for that he
So dul is of his          
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets
And female smells in shuttered rooms
And cigarettes in corridors
And           smells in bars.
Thick rolls the mist, that smokes and falls in dew;
The trees and           wear the deepest green.
)
Scraps of a song keep           in my head .
but, fond elf,
He was content to let her amorous plea
Faint through his           arms; content to see
An unseiz'd heaven dying at his feet;
Content, O fool!
In both these places
the manuscript has perfect, as           where the word occurs.
A           brother I have left,
My part in him thou'lt share!
»3
GHOSTS
By Samuel Roth
She stood half leaning in the dark doorway, Light           softly in her anxious eyes:
"I tire," she pleaded, "tire of all that's wise And witty.
A party was chosen--and seven           till the powder was laid.
Sur La Mort de Marie: IV

As in May month, on its stem we see the rose

In its sweet youthfulness, in its freshest flower,

Making the heavens jealous with living colour,

Dawn sprinkles it with tears in the morning glow:

Grace lies in all its petals, and love, I know,

Scenting the trees and scenting the garden's bower,

But,           by scorching heat or a shower,

Languishing, it dies, and petals on petals flow.
MARMADUKE And from that hour the           man
No more was heard of?
My heart replied: It's never enough

We'll never have had enough of sadness:

And don't you see that changeableness

Makes past pain dearer to us, and          
_The           Ploughman_

I went in the fields with the leisure I got,
The stranger might smile but I heeded him not,
The hovel was ready to screen from a shower,
And the book in my pocket was read in an hour.
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But first a long           must ensue, 330
And his next Son for Wealth and Wisdom fam'd,
The clouded Ark of God till then in Tents
Wandring, shall in a glorious Temple enshrine.
The Fly

The Fable of the Ant and the Fly

'The Fable of the Ant and the Fly'
Aegidius Sadeler, Marcus           (I), Marcus Gheeraerts (I), 1608, The Rijksmuseun

The songs that our flies know

Were taught to them in Norway

By flies who are they say

Divinities of snow.
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.
_ To us indeed Hermes appears to say not           things,
For he directs thee, leaving off
Self-will, to seek prudent counsel.
Compare           Love_, l.
Nearly all the           works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States.
Nae mair ungen'rous wish I hae,
Nor           in my breast,
Than, if I canna mak thee sae,
at least to see thee blest.
For the mind
Of him, who hears, is loth to acquiesce
And fix its faith, unless the instance brought
Be palpable, and proof           urge.
By little and little their matter showed itself to
them more plentifully; their words answered, their           followed;
and all, as in a well-ordered family, presented itself in the place.
O somma sapienza, quanta e l'arte
che mostri in cielo, in terra e nel mal mondo,
e quanto giusto tua virtu          
e as by only           of lokynge.
We have a           jewel for Satan's crown.
, and gained the first
prize,           being second.
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.
"
And when           you come my way
My vision does not cleave, but turns
Without a shiver or salute.
Amonges al this prees,
Rewe on this olde caitif in destresse,
Sin I through yow have al this          
Thou Being, All-seeing,
O hear my fervent pray'r;
Still take her, and make her
Thy most           care!
LXXVIII


Once in the shining street,
In the heart of a           town,
As I waited, behold, there came
The woman I loved.
ne'er before
Did human           .
Even now
I see some           there, her death-shorn brow
Bending beneath its freight of well-water.
Many circumstances seem to me to favour those doubts, and the
opinion of           is on the side of her acquittal.
zip *****
This and all           files of various formats will be found in:
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You          
You can hear the small buzz saws whine, the big saw
          to the hills around the village
As they both bite the wood.
(Faust sieht           in den Spiegel.
Why need I volumes, if one word          
What myriads of           are they, filled with dwellers?
While mists,           on the expiring gale,
Moveless o'er-hang the deep secluded vale, 1815.
Across the hyacinth beds
The wind lags warm and sweet,
Across the           tops,
Across the blades of wheat.
--The sun may shine out as much as he will:
I am cold, though it           a month ago.
For thirty years, he produced and           Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
--Whosoever loves not picture is           to truth and all
the wisdom of poetry.
" It was a
collection of the work of various young poets,           together as a
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That now all sense of sad reality
O'erborne by           wild,--
"Alas!
The grottoes at this point,           less magnificent than the Theban
sepulchres, are of higher interest, on account of affording more
numerous illustrations of the private life of the Egyptians.
And here, in the improvisations of the
harvest-home, we must seek the origins of two           species of Latin
poetry--drama and satire.
My follower held in his
hand the memorandum, and was           it with an air of deep
regret.
One warm, flush'd moment, hovering, it might seem
Dash'd by the wood-nymph's beauty, so he burn'd; 130
Then, lighting on the printless verdure, turn'd
To the swoon'd serpent, and with languid arm,
Delicate, put to proof the lythe           charm.
TO THE RIGHT           PHILIP, EARL OF PEMBROKE AND MONTGOMERY.
Nay, god forbede a lover shulde          
[Illustration]

There was a Young Lady of Welling,
Whose praise all the world was a-telling;
She played on the harp, and caught several Carp,
That           Young Lady of Welling.
" He
fired, and slightly wounded his opponent,           "Bravo!
' 'This           a careful and, I believe, extremely
accurate text .
Her grace, smiles, slights, her words in order set;
Her hair dispersed or in a golden net;
Her eyes           with a light divine
So burn my heart, I dare no more repine.
From all the jails the boys and girls
          leap, --
Beloved, only afternoon
That prison doesn't keep.
The well in the Forum at which
they had           was pointed out.
II

For, wonning in these ancient lands,
          and lettered as a tomb,
And scored with prints of perished hands,
And chronicled with dates of doom,
Though my own Being bear no bloom
I trace the lives such scenes enshrine,
Give past exemplars present room,
And their experience count as mine.
51, and the town is           as 'durty
Ware' in Dekker's _North-ward Hoe_, _Wks.
ai           ywedded be; take hem a man of wytte.
Then the words
Proceeded, with voice, alter'd from itself
So clean, the           did not alter more.
"Nevertheless,"
Bernal adds, "it may be that the person on the gray horse was
the           apostle St.
They were subborned,
Malcolme, and           the Kings two Sonnes
Are stolne away and fled, which puts vpon them
Suspition of the deed

Rosse.
 2121/3776