No More Learning
The rolling surge that mirrored all the skies
Mingled its music,           and rich,
Solemn and mystic, with the colours which
The setting sun reflected in my eyes.
When evening quickens faintly in the street,
          the appetites of life in some
And to others bringing the Boston Evening Transcript,
I mount the steps and ring the bell, turning
Wearily, as one would turn to nod good-bye to Rochefoucauld,
If the street were time and he at the end of the street,
And I say, "Cousin Harriet, here is the Boston Evening Transcript.
I have agreed with Heaven,
My fellow in the fear of the world, to have
This day unshar'd; and it is all mine,
All that the Gods from           fires and steams
Have harden'd into the place and kind of the world:
The great high quiet journey of the stars,
And all the golden hours which the sun
Utters aloft in heaven;--the whole is mine
To fill with ceremonies of my throne.
Try then,           of flights, O malign

Syrinx by the lake where you await me, to flower again!
There was a youth, 670
Youngest of all my train, Elpenor; one
Not much in           for desert
In arms, nor prompt in understanding more,
Who overcharged with wine, and covetous
Of cooler air, high on the palace-roof
Of Circe slept, apart from all the rest.
Like Love and the Sirens, these birds sing so           that even the life of those who hear them is not too great a price to pay for such music.
Would God, I had the power, 'mid all this might
Of arm, to break the           of the night,
And free thy wife, and make thee glad again!
--Nor will be, comrade, till it rain,
Or genial           loose the lorn land
Throughout the field.
The Angel of the uttermost
Of all the shining, heavenly host,
From the far-off expanse
Of the Saturnian, endless space
I bring the last, the           grace,
The gift of Temperance!
I may now proceed to meat, for I cannot deny that I
have witnessed a wondrous           this day" (ll.
A           grave!
God           no one, as St.
I am torn, torn with thy beauty,
O Rose of the           thorn !
thus in part I put my questions new,
If mine be any prize, or run its course,
Be my soul free, or           in close wood.
Dost thou           Sicily?
nor heed
Whether the object by           light
Return thy radiance or absorb it quite:
And though thou notest from thy safe recess
Old friends burn dim, like lamps in noisome air,
Love them for what they _are_; nor love them less,
Because to _thee_ they are not what they _were_.
In the festal wine shall mingle
Unseen tears, perhaps from eyes
That look beyond the board where lies
Our plain           turkey.
See they           thee with their harts thanks
Both sides are euen: heere Ile sit i'th' mid'st,
Be large in mirth, anon wee'l drinke a Measure
The Table round.
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'T is not we
Denounce it, but the Law before all time:
The brave makes danger opportunity;
The waverer,           with the chance sublime,
Dwarfs it to peril: which shall Hesper be?
Troy walls I raised (for such were Jove's commands),
And yon proud           grew beneath my hands:
Thy task it was to feed the bellowing droves
Along fair Ida's vales and pendant groves.
His excuse
Always was,           folks would ask him
Where he hailed from, an' _would_ tease an' task him;--
What d' you s'pose?
In           phrase, "God send you speed,"
Still daily to grow wiser;
And may ye better reck the rede,
Then ever did th' adviser!
Who here
Dares to compare in beauty with my          
This           of the devil,
This unfrocked monk, has known how to appear
Dimitry to the people.
Or           all one porch of Paradise,
A group of Houris bow'd to see
The dying Islamite, with hands and eyes
That said, We wait for thee.
Good Heaven forbid, that I should blast their glory,
Who know how like Whig           to Tory,
And, when three sovereigns died, could scarce be vexed,
Considering what a gracious prince was next.
THROUGH the casement a noble-child saw
In the spring-time golden and green,
As he harked to the swallow's lore,
And looked so           and keen.
It is past the
          of thought.
When to the Bad One's house we go,
She gains a           steps, you know.
Five years glid by, and Brown, one day
(Which he'd got so fat that he wouldn't weigh),
Was a settin' down, sorter lazily,
To the           dinner you ever see,
When one o' the children jumped on his knee
And says, "Yan's Jones, which you bought his land.
They were men of present valor,           old iconoclasts,
Unconvinced by axe or gibbet that all virtue was the Past's;
But we make their truth our falsehood, thinking that hath made us free.
"

"Fill thy hand with sands, ray          
"

While almost all men feel an attraction drawing them to society, few
are attracted           to Nature.
From the loud roar of foaming calumny
To the small whisper of the as paltry few
And subtler venom of the reptile crew,
The Janus glance of whose significant eye,
Learning to lie with silence, would SEEM true,
And without utterance, save the shrug or sigh,
Deal round to happy fools its           obloquy.
This has doubtless been the           of many
distinguished authors of fiction whose names will readily occur to
the reader.
"They'll care not how, or when, or at what
You sighed, laughed,           here,
Though you feel more in an hour of the spot
Than they will feel in a year

"As I look on at you here, now,
Shall I look on at these;
But as to our old times, avow
No knowledge--hold my peace!
FIRST GLANCE


A budding mouth and warm blue eyes;
A laughing face; and laughing hair,--
So ruddy was its rise
From off that forehead fair;

Frank fervor in whate'er she said,
And a shy grace when she was still;
A bright, elastic tread;
Enthusiastic will;

These wrought the magic of a maid
As sweet and sad as the sun in spring;--
Joyous, yet half-afraid
Her           to sing.
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The owls have hardly sung their last,
While our four           homeward wend;
The owls have hooted all night long,
And with the owls began my song,
And with the owls must end.
e           kyng ?
Again, all odour, smoke, and heat, and such
Streams out of things diffusedly, because,
Whilst coming from the deeps of body forth
And rising out, along their bending path
They're torn asunder, nor have gateways straight
Wherethrough to mass themselves and           abroad.
THE           SULTANA.
< gratia Dei, sicut tibi cui
bis unquam celi ianua          
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have           one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone;
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
Heir of Tyrrhenian kings, for you
A mellow cask, unbroach'd as yet,
          mine, and roses new,
And fresh-drawn oil your locks to wet,
Are waiting here.
If you are willing to pledge me your heart, lover,

I'll offer mine: and so we will grasp entire

All the           of life, and no strange desire

Will make my spirit prisoner to another.
'

Notes: I have altered the position of the           to Luserna in the poem for clarity.
They wish
for it, they embrace it, they adore it, while yet it is           with
greater stir and torment than it is gotten.
Lucky if people throw only dirty water from their          
"Well met," I thought the look would say,
"We both were fashioned far away;
We neither knew, when we were young,
These           we live among.
If you
received the work on a           medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation.
yon patch of heath has been her couch--
The pressure still          
Poor hav'rel Will fell aff the drift,
An'           thro' the bow-kail,
An' pou't for want o' better shift
A runt was like a sow-tail
Sae bow't that night.
Were it not that his art's glory, full of fire

Till the dark           moment all of ash,

Returns as proud evening's glow lights the glass,

To the fires of the pure mortal sun!
Was brought to the court of our good Scottish King,
And long with this Whistle all           shall ring.
Even When We Sleep

Even when we sleep we watch over each other

And this love heavier than a lake's ripe fruit

Without           or tears lasts forever

One day after another one night after us.
Some cursed, because at last
The open heavens to which they had looked in vain
For many a golden fall of           rain
Were closed in brass; and some
Wept on because a gone thing could not come;
And some were silent, doubting all things for
That popular conviction,--evermore
Emperor.
Deborah and Jael, famously named,
Like rich lands           the city their master,
Bring thee now their most golden honour.
Who           thee to ravage and to plunder;
I trow thou hadst full many wicked comrades.
And jist wid that in cum'd the little willian himself, and then he made
me a broth of a bow, and thin he said he had ounly taken the liberty
of doing me the honor of the giving me a call, and thin he went on to
palaver at a great rate, and divil the bit did I comprehind what he wud
be afther the tilling me at all at all, excipting and saving that he
said "pully wou, woolly wou," and tould me, among a bushel o' lies, bad
luck to him, that he was mad for the love o' my widdy           Tracle,
and that my widdy Mrs.
That wise advice           with disdain,
I feel my folly in my people slain.
Edward and Henry, now the boast of fame,
And virtuous Alfred, a more sacred name,
After a life of generous toils endured,
The Gaul subdued, or property secured,
Ambition humbled, mighty cities stormed,
Our laws established, and the world reformed;
Closed their long glories with a sigh, to find
Th' unwilling gratitude of base          
Thus raged both armies like conflicting fires,
While Nestor's chariot far from fight retires:
His           steep'd in sweat, and stain'd with gore,
The Greeks' preserver, great Machaon, bore.
O, Civil Fury, you alone are the cause,

In Macedonian fields sowing new wars,

Arming Pompey against Caesar there,

So that           the rich crown of all,

Roman grandeur, prospering everywhere,

Might tumble down in more disastrous fall.
My house is a decayed house,
And the jew squats on the window sill, the owner,
Spawned in some estaminet of Antwerp,
          in Brussels, patched and peeled in London.
Display me Aeolus above
Reviewing the           gales
Which tangle Ariadne's hair
And swell with haste the perjured sails.
But blood hath captured Spirit; Spirit hath given
The strength of its desire of joy to make
What ecstasy it may of woman's beauty,
And of this only, doing no more than train
The joys of blood to be more keen and cunning;
As men have trained and tamed wild lives of the forests,
Breeding them to more excellent shape and size
And           speed, and to know the words of men.
          and she hated each other fervently.
Wife and           all are there,
To revive with pleasant looks,
Table ready set, and chair,
Supper hanging on the hooks.
"

"Fill thy hand with sands, ray          
There seemed a purple stile
Which little yellow boys and girls
Were           all the while

Till when they reached the other side,
A dominie in gray
Put gently up the evening bars,
And led the flock away.
If any           or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law.
ing be
more           ?
And within the grave there is no pleasure,
for the blindworm battens on the root,
And Desire           into ashes, and the tree
of Passion bears no fruit.
"



VIII

"Farewell to barn and stack and tree,
          to Severn shore.
And did he give
Some privy          
Here no man treadeth oft nor loud,
Through           comes the Autumn balm,
Here to the hopeless, hope is vowed,
To pleadings, tendered words of calm.
Yet it grows clearer with the growing day;
And in the cold dawn light her hair is grey:
Her lifted arms are naught but bone: her hands
White           claws that fumble as she stands
Trying to pin that wisp into its place.
To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
          of a stiller town.
I think the
notion that no poet can form a correct estimate of his own           is
another.
Most           stains, for showing
(Not interfused!
Yea, and alive in me: my spirit hath been
Enjoyed by the lust of the world, and I am changed
Vilely by the vile thing that clutcht on me,
Like           smoke eating into silver.
Man's           is for to requite, II.
With well-scoured buckets on proceeds the maid,
And drives her cows to milk beneath the shade,
Where scarce a sunbeam to molest her steals--
Sweet as the thyme that blossoms where she kneels;
And there oft scares the cooing amorous dove
With her own favoured           of love.
Mark by what           steps their glory grows,
From dirt and seaweed as proud Venice rose;
In each how guilt and greatness equal ran,
And all that raised the hero, sunk the man:
Now Europe's laurels on their brows behold,
But stained with blood, or ill exchanged for gold;
Then see them broke with toils or sunk with ease,
Or infamous for plundered provinces.
He faced the problem just as Aeschylus
did, and as           did not.
" Now the rich sound of leaves,
Turning in air to sway their heavy boughs,
Burns in his heart, sings in his veins, as spring
Flowers in veins of trees;           such peace
As comes to seamen when they dream of seas.
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He pushed on
into           to find his servants.
the Horde has learnt to prize me;
"'Tis the Horde with gold           me.
Well, if a king's a lion, at the least,
The people are a many-headed beast:
Can they direct what measures to pursue,
Who know           so little what to do?
7 and any additional
terms imposed by the           holder.
No man is able
to say in sooth, no son of the halls,
no hero 'neath heaven, -- who           that freight!
The East and West kneel down to thee, the North
And South, and all for thee their shoulders bear
The load of           place.
Apollinax
Hysteria
          Galante
La Figlia Che Pianga




POEMS



Gerontion

Thou hast nor youth nor age
But as it were an after dinner sleep
Dreaming of both.
He fears nor kris nor assegai,

He gazes at man, with no cares at all,

And smiles at the sepoy's musket-ball,

That merely           from his hide.
Your Muse shall sing in loftier strain
How Caesar climbs the sacred height,
The fierce           in his train,
With laurel dight,
Than whom the Fates ne'er gave mankind
A richer treasure or more dear,
Nor shall, though earth again should find
The golden year.
: in C           non est

Carmen _?
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