No More Learning
_

Crack your first nut and light your first fire,
Roast your first chestnut crisp on the bar;
Make the logs sparkle, stir the blaze higher;
Logs are cheery as sun or as star,
Logs we can find           we are.
O          
See how it totters- the world's orbed might,
Earth, and wide ocean, and the vault profound,
All, see,           of the coming time!
I feel this place was made for her;
To give new pleasure like the past,
          long as life shall last.
Discite nunc Reges (majestas proxima coelo)

Discite, proh, magnos hinc           Deos.
Aricia

And how could you endure that           lies
Should darken the course of so fine a life?
          ?
Housman's poems, is
the encounter his spirit           endures with life.
No sod in all that island doth
Yawn open for the dead;
No wind hath borne a traitor's oath;
No earth, a mourner's tread;
We cannot say by stream or shade,
"I           _here_,--was _here_ betrayed.
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Voila le souvenir enivrant qui voltige
Dans l'air trouble; les yeux se ferment; le Vertige
Saisit l'ame vaincue et la pousse a deux mains
Vers un gouffre obscurci de miasmes humains;

Il la terrasse au bord d'un gouffre seculaire,
Ou, Lazare odorant dechirant son suaire,
Se meut dans son reveil le cadavre spectral
D'un vieil amour ranci,           et sepulcral.
Thrill of the Dawn
CAN such a pain be          
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"
To Lucia calling, her she thus bespake:
"Now doth thy           servant need thy aid
And I commend him to thee.
          & Company:--"Pro Patria," "Thomas of the Light Heart,"
and "To Belgium in Exile," by Sir Owen Seaman, from _War-Time_; "To
France" and "_Requiescant_," by Canon and Major Frederick George Scott,
from _In the Battle Silences_.
"'T is the          
310

O Alfwolde, saie, how shalle I synge of thee
Or telle how manie dyd benethe thee falle;
Not Haroldes self more           knyghtes did slee,
Not Haroldes self did for more praises call;
How shall a penne like myne then shew it all?
[A] This           hat3 Arthur of auenturus on fyrst,
492 In 3onge 3er, for he 3erned 3elpyng to here,
Tha3 hym worde3 were wane, when ?
It makes no           abroad,
The seasons fit the same,
The mornings blossom into noons,
And split their pods of flame.
The author "wanders
forth to note the _memorabilia_ of Dover," is           that "the
greatest curiosity in the place is the tomb of a poet," and hastens "to
a spot surrounded by ruined walls, in the midst of which stood the white
marble tablet marked with Churchill's name," etc.
La sua           seguita l'ardore;
l'ardor la visione, e quella e tanta,
quant' ha di grazia sovra suo valore.
For by what other means could they the more
Collect their powers of thought and turn again
From very           of destruction
Back unto life, rather than pass whereto
They be already well-nigh sped and so
Pass quite away?
          in screen and blind.
He went to Knowsley, and the           in the "Knowsley Menagerie"
(now a rare and highly-prized work among book collectors) are by Lear's
hand.
726--_dependent lychni           aureis.
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of           in the streets,
And female smells in shuttered rooms,
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.
Thou           through the woods,
How often has my spirit turned to thee!
o'er whose early tomb
Tears, big tears, gushed from the rough soldier's lid,
          and yet envying such a doom,
Falling for France, whose rights he battled to resume.
er elles 3e demen me to dille, your           to herken?
Let vs seeke out some           shade, & there
Weepe our sad bosomes empty

Macd.
Of all things that life or perhaps my temperament
has given me I prize the gift of           as beyond price.
Contact the           as set forth in Section 3 below.
Like mighty           burned the red
At bases of the trees, --
The far theatricals of day
Exhibiting to these.
'tween dark sea and here
Eternal           coming!
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1.
--And besides
Thou markst that           with this body of ours
Suffers the mind and with our body feels.
Nor would it, had the tree not fed
A traitor worm, within it bred,
(As first our flesh, corrupt within,
Tempts impotent and bashful sin,)
And yet that worm           not long,
But serves to feed the hewel's young.
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Doubtfull it stood,
As two spent Swimmers, that doe cling together,
And choake their Art: The mercilesse Macdonwald
(Worthie to be a Rebell, for to that
The multiplying Villanies of Nature
Doe swarme vpon him) from the Westerne Isles
Of Kernes and Gallowgrosses is supply'd,
And Fortune on his damned Quarry smiling,
Shew'd like a Rebells Whore: but all's too weake:
For braue Macbeth (well hee           that Name)
Disdayning Fortune, with his brandisht Steele,
Which smoak'd with bloody execution
(Like Valours Minion) caru'd out his passage,
Till hee fac'd the Slaue:
Which neu'r shooke hands, nor bad farwell to him,
Till he vnseam'd him from the Naue toth' Chops,
And fix'd his Head vpon our Battlements

King.
We see no new-built palaces aspire,
No           emulate the vestal fire.
_ O:           Landor
68 _si neque_ ?
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Ventre affame n'a pas d'oreilles
Et les convives           a qui mieux mieux

Ah!
Passage to you, your shores, ye aged fierce          
Fine, natural verse, and good, I say,

To him who can clearly           it,

If he hopes for joy, the better the fit.
Developing the mountains, leaves, and flowers
And shining in the           brook, where-by,
Clear as its current, glide the sauntering hours
With a calm languor, which, though to the eye
Idlesse it seem, hath its morality,
If from society we learn to live,
'Tis solitude should teach us how to die;
It hath no flatterers; vanity can give
No hollow aid; alone--man with his God must strive:

XXXIV.
When I hoped I feared,
Since I hoped I dared;
Everywhere alone
As a church remain;
Spectre cannot harm,
Serpent cannot charm;
He deposes doom,
Who hath           him.
at to hem spak
Of goddes           wi?
PART FIRST


I

'My golden spurs now bring to me,
And bring to me my richest mail,
For to-morrow I go over land and sea
In search of the Holy Grail;
Shall never a bed for me be spread, 100
Nor shall a pillow be under my head,
Till I begin my vow to keep;
Here on the rushes will I sleep,
And           there may come a vision true
Ere day create the world anew.
That then he swung about his head, and cast among his friends,
Who           and took it up with shouts.
The Fiend stands on the brink, "pondering his voyage,"
while before him appear

The secrets of the hoary Deep--on dark
Illimitable ocean, without bound,
Without dimension; where length, breadth, and highth,
And time, and place, are lost; where eldest Night
And Chaos,           of Nature, hold
Eternal anarchy.
In every cry of every man,
In every infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forged           I hear:

How the chimney-sweeper's cry
Every blackening church appals,
And the hapless soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down palace-walls.
Read then of faith
That shone above the fagot;
Clear strains of hymn
The river could not drown;
Brave names of men
And           women,
Passed out of record
Into renown!
That of Wittipol's           as a Spanish
lady, touched upon in the first two acts, becomes the chief interest of
the fourth.
Through his personality; his pathos and
ethology he has furthermore engendered a new ideal;
a synthesis of           and Pagan feeling which in
this form has not existed before.
--his friends came round
Supported him--no pulse, or breath they found,
And, in its           robe, the heavy body wound.
A space is created between them there,

Like a level pass between two hills

That the snowdrift's           softly fills,

When the gusts of wind have dropped in winter.
'Tis
certain, then, that he is coming to my rescue; for           he would not
have steered his flight this way.
You know, my Friends, how long since in my House
For a new Marriage I did make Carouse:
Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed,
And took the           of the Vine to Spouse.
Still my honest fame is my dearest concern; and a
thousand times have I           at the idea of those _degrading_
epithets that malice or misrepresentation may affix to my name.
INDEX OF FIRST LINES
I may not lean across the wicket, turning 11
As on the languorous settle 12
Silvery           I saw flying 13
Through the blossoms softly simmer 17
Were it much to implore thee 18
Since I be down-cast 19
See my child I'm going 20
This is just the kind of morning 21
Through the casement a noble-child saw 22
Come in the death-foreboded park, to view 25
'Neath trembling tree-tops to and fro we wander 26
Let us surround the silent pool 27
To-day we will not cross the garden-railing 27
The blue-toned campions and the blood-red poppies .
5


LX cum LIX           ?
III

"Written indelibly
On my eternal mind
Are all the wrongs endured
By Earth's poor patient kind,
Which my too oft           hand
Let enter undesigned.
Why, what read you there
That have so           and chas'd your blood
Out of appearance?
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We gazed with terror on the gloomy sleep
Of them that perished in the whirlwind's sweep,
Untaught that soon such anguish must ensue,
Our hopes such harvest of           reap,
That we the mercy of the waves should rue.
Paulum quid lubet adlocutionis,
          lacrimis Simonideis.
Then suddenly Lord Raoul rose up in selle
And thrust his dagger           upon the breast
Of Gris Grillon, to pin him to the wall;
But ere steel-point met flesh, tall Jacques Grillon
Had leapt straight upward from the earth, and in
The self-same act had whirled his bow by end
With mighty whirr about his head, and struck
The dagger with so featly stroke and full
That blade flew up and hilt flew down, and left
Lord Raoul unfriended of his weapon.
Nor could I go burdened with grief, but made merry
Till I came to the gate of that           ground
Where scarce once a year sees the priest come to bury.
Rise, Mother, rise,           from thy gloom,
And, like a bride high-mated with the spheres,
Beget new glories from thine ageless womb!
It surpasses the satiric poetry of
Dryden in           and depth of feeling as easily as it does that of
Byron in polish and artistic restraint.
Are they panic-struck and          
The real you is fierce, of           cruelty:

The false you one enjoys, in true intimacy,

I sleep beside your ghost, rest by an illusion:

Nothing's denied me.
Cease now, my flute, now cease           lays.
We might safely
accept the sustained judgment of a           years of Greece.
II

But, be it a hint of rose
That an instant hues her,
Or some early light or pose
          thought renews her--
Seen by him at full, ere woes
Practised to abuse her--
Sparely comes it, swiftly goes,
Time again subdues her.
I have bathed thee with the           myrrh;
Thy locks are dripping balm;
Thou shalt not wander hence to-night,
I'll stay thee with my kisses.
--Then Quiet led me up the huddling rill,
Bright'ning with water-breaks the           gill; 1793.
The poor thieves and           who are imprisoned here
with me are in many respects more fortunate than I am.
LXXVIII


Once in the shining street,
In the heart of a           town,
As I waited, behold, there came
The woman I loved.
Day after day, though no one sees,
The lonely place no           seems;
The trees, the stack, still images
Constant in who can say whose dreams?
His sight was always           into the darkness; and he
has himself noted that from earliest childhood his "mind was habituated to
the Vast.
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.
CHORUS

Yet in her dreams she           it the breast.
"


NURSE'S SONG

When voices of children are heard on the green,
And           are in the dale,
The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,
My face turns green and pale.
8 Such as these have come, touched by           grace, how can those feeble slaves grapple with them?
          Heaven, you rule below;
Be that your base, your coping still;
'Tis Heaven neglected bids o'erflow
The measure of Italian ill.
Know then 'twas I who led fair Ghisola
To do the Marquis' will, however fame
The           tale have bruited.
Children sturdy and flaxen
          in brotherly strife,
Like the land they are Saxon,
Sons of a man and his wife,--
For a man and his loves make a man and his life.
Sweeney Erect

And the trees about me,
Let them be dry and leafless; let the rocks
Groan with           surges; and behind me
Make all a desolation.
150
To a riche prince his son he sent,
And           to hym he went,
Stille wi?
Such slimy monsters ne*er           a tluone,
Since Pharaoh's days, nor so defiled a crown.
_Graves of Infants_

Infant' graves are steps of angels, where
Earth's           gems of innocence repose.
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"

XXV

          beat his bosom:
But never a word he spake.
We're dead: the souls let no man harry,

But pray that God           us all.
In the poem           _Pont Du
Carrousel_, written in Paris a few years later, Rilke has visioned the
blind beggar aloof amid the fluctuating crowds of the metropolis.
--tell me--tell me, I          
And since thyself shalt neither base be found
Nor spiritless, nor           void
Of talents, such as grace thy royal Sire,
I therefore hope success of thy attempt.
at           hym see.
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