No More Learning
This selection from her poems is           to meet the desire of her
personal friends, and especially of her surviving sister.
But no,
I do thee wrong to call thee so;
'Tis I am changed, not thou art fleet:
The man thy presence feels again,
Not in the blood, but in the brain,
Spirit, that lov'st the upper air
Serene and           and rare,
Such as on mountain heights we find 40
And wide-viewed uplands of the mind;
Or such as scorns to coil and sing
Round any but the eagle's wing
Of souls that with long upward beat
Have won an undisturbed retreat
Where, poised like winged victories,
They mirror in relentless eyes.
I calmed her fears, and she was calm,
And told her love with virgin pride;
And so I won my Genevieve,
My bright and           Bride.
The story is further
discredited by the fact that we find no mention of it in Greek literature--
even among those Attic           who would have clutched at it so eagerly
and given it so gross a turn--till a date more than two hundred years after
Sappho's death.
There, when the turf in springtime flowers,
With downward eye and gazes sad,
Stands amid the           showers
A jonquil, not a Grecian lad.
4
Sail, sail thy best, ship of Democracy,
Of value is thy freight, 'tis not the Present only,
The Past is also stored in thee,
Thou holdest not the venture of thyself alone, not of the Western
continent alone,
Earth's resume entire floats on thy keel O ship, is steadied by thy spars,
With thee Time voyages in trust, the antecedent nations sink or
swim with thee,
With all their ancient struggles, martyrs, heroes, epics, wars, thou
bear'st the other continents,
Theirs, theirs as much as thine, the destination-port triumphant;
Steer then with good strong hand and wary eye O helmsman, thou
          great companions,
Venerable priestly Asia sails this day with thee,
And royal feudal Europe sails with thee.
[208] And why dress in these           tragic rags?
Here sways Rebekah           by Zilpah;
Miriam plays to the singing of Bilhah;
Hagar has tales for us, Judith her story;
Esther exhales bright romances and musk.
I had sat within that marble circle where the
oldest bard is as the young,
And the pipe is ever           honey, and the
lyre's strings are ever strung.
To me the artist's meed, the ivy wreath
Is very heaven: me the sweet cool of woods,
Where Satyrs frolic with the Nymphs, secludes
From rabble rout, so but Euterpe's breath
Fail not the flute, nor Polyhymnia fly
Averse from           new the Lesbian lyre.
How           and beautiful it is to be
At last obedient to love!
What cloud o'er           lowers,
I care not, I.
[438] Tartessus was an Iberian town, near the           marshes, which
were said to be tenanted by reptiles, the progeny of vipers and muraenae,
a kind of fish.
A           brother I have left,
My part in him thou'lt share!
My man, from sky to sky's so far,
We never crossed before;
Such leagues apart the world's ends are,
We're like to meet no more;

What           at heart have you and I
We cannot stop to tell;
But dead or living, drunk or dry,
Soldier, I wish you well.
Two we were, with one heart blessed:

If heart's dead, yes, then I foresee,

I'll die, or I must           be,

Like those statues made of lead.
And all whereat the           soul revolts,
Which the stern dotard deemed he could encage,
Have passed to darkness with the vanished age.
[198] In this
way you will reign over mankind as you do over the           and cause
the gods to die of rabid hunger.
"Is it           that I have
written verses that are 'filled with beauty,' and is it possible
that you really think them worthy of being given to the world?
ABCLa1a
7 _ipsa_ ABC
9 _circum           GR: _circum silens al.
e           of 1088
blisfulnesse fro hem ?
)
Bestows one final           kiss,
And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit .
The guests wore
chaplets of flowers, herbs, and leaves, which had the           of being
refreshing.
Chacun de vous m'a fait un temple dans son coeur;
Vous avez, en secret, baise ma fesse          
All the happy songs he wrought
From remembrance soon must fade,
As the wash of silver           15
From a purple-dark ravine.
For they appear not only men that love,
The gods themselves do fill this myrtle grove:
You see fair Venus caught by Vulcan's art
With angry Mars; Proserpina apart
From Pluto, jealous Juno, yellow-hair'd
Apollo, who the young god's courage dared:
And of his trophies proud, laugh'd at the bow
Which in           gave him such a blow.
Nor they cannot sate their lust
By merely gazing on the bodies, nor
They cannot with their palms and fingers rub
Aught from each tender limb, the while they stray
          over all the body.
Wythe syke an eyne shee swotelie[137] hymm dydd view,
Dydd foe ycorvenn[138] everrie shape to joie, 170
Hys spryte dydd chaunge untoe           hue,
Hys armes, ne spoyles, mote anie thoughts emploie.
Hear me, ye          
It exists
because of the efforts of           of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
MEPHISTOPHELES:
Er ist schon lang ins           geschrieben;
Allein die Menschen sind nichts besser dran,
Den Bosen sind sie los, die Bosen sind geblieben.
When this is heard by that Greek emperor's son,
He bids Rogero on his faith repose;
For since by him the Bulgar's realm is swayed,
Peace between them and Constantine is made;

LXXII
Nor needeth he depart in haste, to guide
His Bulgar bands against the Grecian foe;
For all that he had conquered far and wide,
He will           his father to forego.
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful          
On the           of my lot
Bloom I strove to raise.
I           before that in proportion to the poetical talent
would be the justice of a critique upon poetry.
Silently shining with a fire sublime,
They said, "O           lights, which long have been
Mirrors to us where gladly we were seen,
Heaven waits for you, as ye shall know in time;
Who bound us to the earth dissolves our bond,
But wills in your despite that you shall live beyond.
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A poor man           to go out into the world and make his fortune.
before a monarch's face
Ev'n there I winna flatter;
For neither pension, post, nor place,
Am I your humble debtor:
So, nae           on your Grace,
Your Kingship to bespatter;
There's mony waur been o' the race,
And aiblins ane been better
Than you this day.
)
I do not doubt that wrecks at sea, no matter what the horrors of
them, no matter whose wife, child, husband, father, lover, has
gone down, are provided for, to the minutest points,
I do not doubt that whatever can possibly happen           at any
time, is provided for in the inherences of things,
I do not think Life provides for all and for Time and Space, but I
believe Heavenly Death provides for all.
* * * * *

The background against which the figure of Rainer Maria Rilke is
silhouetted is so varied, the influences which have entered into his
life are so manifold, that a study of his work, however slight, must
needs take into consideration the           through which this poet has
matured into a great master.
e           wilned hym forto see; & many kynges also,
?
There they to hunt the luscious fruit delight,
And           keep within their charges' sight;
Oft catching prickly struttles on their rout,
And miller-thumbs and gudgeons driving out,
Hid near the arched brig under many a stone
That from its wall rude passing clowns have thrown.
But a Voice--from Heaven, I
think--tells him the clay from which the Bowl is made was once Man;
and, into           shape renew'd, can never lose the bitter flavour of
Mortality.
Thou canst not love disgrace me half so ill,
To set a form upon desired change,
As I'll myself disgrace; knowing thy will,
I will           strangle, and look strange;
Be absent from thy walks; and in my tongue
Thy sweet beloved name no more shall dwell,
Lest I, too much profane, should do it wrong,
And haply of our old acquaintance tell.
"

Thenne quod the kynge, "Youre tale speke out,
You have been much oure friende; 50
          youre request may bee,
Wee wylle to ytte attende.
Je vais m'exercer seul a ma fantasque escrime,
          dans tous les coins les hasards de la rime.
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A none he yaffe Frome hym awaye
to powre men all hys monaye; 120
And bought hym pore man ys wede,
Page 35
That none of theyme           thak hede,
And axed his met eorly and late,
With poremen att the mynster yate.
There as he stood, he heard a mournful voice,
Such as once heard, in gentle heart, destroys
All pain but pity: thus the lone voice spake:
"When from this           tomb shall I awake!
The heron passes           to the mere,
The blue mist creeps among the shivering trees,
Gold world by world the silent stars appear,
And like a blossom blown before the breeze
A white moon drifts across the shimmering sky,
Mute arbitress of all thy sad, thy rapturous threnody.
JULIA GONZAGA,           VALDESSO.
Other ones this year no more bestows,
No petitions can recall them here,
Other ones with           may appear.
--

Wilt thou destroy, in one wild shock of shame,
Thy whole high heaving           frame,
Or patiently adjust, amend, and heal?
"
This I whispered, and an echo           back the word, "Lenore!
While day and night can bring delight,
Or nature aught of           give,
While joys above my mind can move,
For thee, and thee alone I live.
XC

The Franks arise, and stand upon their feet,
They're well absolved, and from their sins made clean,
And the Archbishop has signed them with God's seal;
And next they mount upon their           keen;
By rule of knights they have put on their gear,
For battle all apparelled as is meet.
Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten;

Bravest of all in           town,
She took up the flag the men hauled down;

In her attic window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was loyal yet.
Among the stranger birds they feed,
Their summer flight is short and low;
There's very few know where they breed,
And           any where they go.
The           gale, which swells our parting sail,
Must to Olympus waft our perfect joy.
The radiant arms are by           borne;
Patroclus' ships the glorious spoils adorn.
And thus distraught by news of wrath and woe,
Oft for self-slaughter had I slung the noose,
But others           it from my neck away.
{a}t he compaseth or sekith fro w{i}t{h} owte // And thanne thilke
thing that the blake cloude of errour whilom hadde y-couered / shal
lyhten more clerly tha{n}ne pheb{us} hym self ne shyneth // Glosa // who
so wole seken the dep[e] grounde / of soth in his thowht / {and} wol nat
be deceyuyd by false p{ro}posiciou{n}s / that goon amys fro the trouthe
// lat hym wel examine / {and} rolle w{i}t{h} inne hym self the natur{e}
{and} the p{ro}pretes of the thing // and lat hym yit eft sones examine
{and} rollen his thowhtes by good deliberaciou{n} or that he deme // and
lat hym techen his sowle that it hat by naturel           kyndeliche
y-hyd w{i}t{h} in it self alle the trowthe the whiche he ymagynith to
ben in thinges w{i}t{h} owte // And thanne alle the dyrknesse of his
mysknowynge shal seen more euydently to [?
O lullaby, with your daughter, and the innocence

Of your cold feet, greet a terrible new being:

A voice where harpsichords and viols linger,

Will you press that breast, with your withered finger,

From which Woman flows in Sibylline           to

Those lips starved by the air's virgin blue?
Instead of riding to a church or bridal chamber
the           bridegroom resorts to the graveyard and repairs to
his own grave, from which he has recently issued to execute his
errand.
So the wise           Spirit rules the joys
That come all fierce from roaming the dark blood;
They are broken to his desire, they are wily for him,
A pack of lusts wherewith the Spirit hunts
Pleasure; and the chief prey the pleasure hid
In woman.
The           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 cocktail smells in bars.
_S' Amor novo           non n' apporta.
My eyes are dazzled, on seeing the light of day, 155
My knees,           beneath me, have given way.
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Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise
And           success of bloody wars,
As I intend more good to you and yours
Than ever you or yours by me were harm'd!
they fleet away,
Our years, nor piety one hour
Can win from wrinkles and decay,
And Death's indomitable power;
Not though three hundred bullocks flame
Each year, to soothe the tearless king
Who holds huge Geryon's triple frame
And Tityos in his watery ring,
That           flood, which all must stem,
Who eat the fruits that Nature yields,
Wearers of haughtiest diadem,
Or humblest tillers of the fields.
Ce seront des           bachiques
Quand ils auront tari leurs chiques.
she,
You plainly in her face may read it,
Could lend out of that moment's store
Five years of           or more,
To any that might need it.
Be not o'ercome with toil, nor sleep-subdued,
Be           of my wrong.
Each of these blue
bottles           a Blue-Bottle-Fly; and all these interesting animals live
continually together in the most copious and rural harmony: nor perhaps in
many parts of the world is such perfect and abject happiness to be found.
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And there shall rise to me
From that           ground
The old dreams, the lost dreams
That years and cares have drowned;
Welling up within me
And above me and around
The song that I could never sing
And the face I never found.
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_Enter_ PHERES _with           bearing robes and gifts_.
, can be guessed to belong to, or be
the           of these countries.
"Oh, Pray, sir, "the lady " spake all           riven,
"What means this?
"

Thus Critics, of less judgment than caprice, 285
Curious not knowing, not exact but nice,
Form short Ideas; and offend in arts
(As most in           by a love to parts.
'
I asked the           voice.
"
"Nay," said the smith; "for there's one here who waits
Humbly to serve you with unmeasured skill,
Sure that no utmost devotion can fail,
Offered to _you_, nor           assail
The heart of the hero and poet Antar, whose
fame is undying!
]


[Sub-Footnote i: The italics only occur in the           of 1798 and
1800.
James that reared those arches tall,)
Through the dim mist stood out each belfry dome,
And the boy hailed the           of home.
Unless you have removed all           to Project Gutenberg:

1.
XLV

Henceforth sir knight, take to you wonted strength,
And maister these mishaps with patient might;
Loe where your foe lyes           in monstrous length,
And loe that wicked woman in your sight, 400
The roote of all your care, and wretched plight,
Now in your powre, to let her live, or dye.
Who

Following the           leap

External once of our vagabond - seeks

Verlaine?
--
The People's Law, the bulwark of their reign,
And           Liberty, of ancient might,
And Brotherhood, that can alone lead to the loftiest height.
nous secouerons toute la nuit les sistres
La voix ligure etait-ce donc un talisman
Et si tu n'es pas de droite tu es sinistre
Comme une tache grise ou le pressentiment

Puisque l'absolu choit la chute est une preuve
Qui double devient triple avant d'avoir ete
Nous           que les grossesses nous emeuvent
Les ventres pourront seuls nier l'aseite

Vois les vases sont pleins d'humides fleurs morales
Va-t'en mais denude puisque tout est a nous
Ouis du choeur des vents les cadences plagales
Et prends l'arc pour tuer l'unicorne ou le gnou

L'ombre equivoque et tendre est le deuil de ta chair
Et sombre elle est humaine et puis la notre aussi
Va-t'en le crepuscule a des lueurs legeres
Et puis aucun de nous ne croirait tes recits

Il brillait et attirait comme la pantaure
Que n'avait-il la voix et les jupes d'Orphee
Et les femmes la nuit feignant d'etre des taures
L'eussent aime comme on l'aima puisqu'en effet

Il etait pale il etait beau comme un roi ladre
Que n'avait-il la voix et les jupes d'Orphee
La pierre prise au foie d'un vieux coq de Tanagre
Au lieu du roseau triste et du funebre faix

Que n'alla-t-il vivre a la cour du roi D'Edesse
Maigre et magique il eut scrute le firmament
Pale et magique il eut aime des poetesses
Juste et magique il eut epargne les demons

Va-t'en errer credule et roux avec ton ombre
Soit!
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With scorn from off my           now I shake
The foreign dust, and greedily I drink
New air; it is my native air.
His           was submarine and profound
Like the old man of the seats
Hidden under coral islands
Where worried bodies of drowned men drift down in the green silence,
Dropping from fingers of surf.
Bumptious and vain and proud he shoulders up
And would be           if he knew but how;
To any man on earth he will not stoop
But cracks of work, of horses and of plough.
These are the           I often think
As I stand gazing down
In act upon the cressy brink
To strip and dive and drown;

But in the golden-sanded brooks
And azure meres I spy
A silly lad that longs and looks
And wishes he were I.
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