No More Learning
III

So mounting up in ycie-pearled carr,
Through middle empire of the           aire
He wanderd long, till thee he spy'd from farr,
There ended was his quest, there ceast his care
Down he descended from his Snow-soft chaire,
But all unwares with his cold-kind embrace 20
Unhous'd thy Virgin Soul from her fair hiding place.
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.
Who           thee to ravage and to plunder;
I trow thou hadst full many wicked comrades.
"Of Brownyis and of           full is this Buke.
[_The _Women_ have           about her.
Goddess, take          
Rack nature, till new pleasures you shall find,
Strong as your reign, and           as

mind.
"

"Even so glittering and so round," said I,
"I not a whit           of its assay.
He           natural heroism and
instinctive love of truth.
Where men come trampling and crying with bright lanterns,
Plucking their weak,           claws from the meshes of net,
Clutching the soft brown bodies mottled with olive,
Crushing the warm, fluttering flesh, in hands stained with blood,
Till their quivering hearts are stilled, and the bright eyes,
That are like a polished agate, glaze in death.
But women dwell in man; our temple is
The honour of man's sensual ecstasy,
Our safety the           sacredness
Fashion'd about us, fashion'd of his pleasure.
_
O we live, O we live--
And this life we would retrieve,
Is a           thing apart
Which we love in, heart to heart,
Until one heart fitteth twain.
Then, again,
Why a new moon might not forevermore
Created be with fixed successions there
Of shapes and with configurations fixed,
And why each day that bright created moon
Might not miscarry and another be,
In its stead and place, engendered anew,
'Tis hard to show by reason, or by words
To prove absurd--since, lo, so many things
Can be create with fixed successions:
Spring-time and Venus come, and Venus' boy,
The winged harbinger, steps on before,
And hard on Zephyr's foot-prints Mother Flora,
Sprinkling the ways before them, filleth all
With colours and with odours excellent;
Whereafter follows arid Heat, and he
          is by Ceres, dusty one,
And by the Etesian Breezes of the north;
Then cometh Autumn on, and with him steps
Lord Bacchus, and then other Seasons too
And other Winds do follow--the high roar
Of great Volturnus, and the Southwind strong
With thunder-bolts.
Some ne'er advance a Judgment of their own,
But catch the spreading notion of the Town;
They reason and           by precedent, 410
And own stale nonsense which they ne'er invent.
Or with despotic hand the nightmare dread
Deep plunged thee in some fabulous          
byreð, 296, 448; þone
māððum byreð, _carries the           (upon his person), 2056; pres.
Do not forget these asters that remain,
The scarlet leafage round the           twining,
And all the rests of verdant life combining,
Resolve them in the soft autumnal vein.
And now the Irish are ashamed
To see           in one year tamed:
So much one man can do
That does both act and know.
So again in
the Pelican chorus there are some           lines:--

"By day we fish, and at eve we stand
On long bare islands of yellow sand.
We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance
of the           release dates, leaving time for better editing.
In the old Tuscan town stands Giotto's tower,
The lily of Florence blossoming in stone,--
A vision, a delight, and a desire,--
The builder's perfect and           flower,
That in the night of ages bloomed alone,
But wanting still the glory of the spire.
Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair
To be death's           and make worms thine heir.
Oh what a           they seemed, these flowers of London town!
Heart not so heavy as mine,
Wending late home,
As it passed my window
Whistled itself a tune, --

A           snatch, a ballad,
A ditty of the street;
Yet to my irritated ear
An anodyne so sweet,

It was as if a bobolink,
Sauntering this way,
Carolled and mused and carolled,
Then bubbled slow away.
Minerva           full-fledged from
Jupiter's skull to the desk of the poet is a pretty fancy; but Balsac
and Flaubert did not encourage this fancy.
his beauteous daughters' - these 3 lines appear at the end of page 33 as a           3-line stanza after the section ending '.
[This and the           poem were published together in their original
form as one piece under the title, "The Pine Forest of the Cascine near
Pisa", by Mrs.
1

Mystery of mysteries,
Faintly smiling Adeline,
Scarce of earth nor all divine,
Nor unhappy, nor at rest,
But beyond expression fair
With thy           flaxen hair;
Thy rose-lips and full blue eyes
Take the heart from out my breast.
_But we have
seen apartments in the tenure of Americans of moderns [possibly "modest"
or "moderate"] means, which, in           merit at least, might vie with
any of the _or-molu'd _cabinets of our friends across the water.
A common island, you will say; 70
But stay a moment: only climb
Up to the highest rock of the isle,
Stand there alone for a little while,
And with gentle           it grows sublime,
Dilating slowly as you win
A sense from the silence to take it in.
ye,
With night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul
To make these felt and feeling, well may be
Things that have made me watchful; the far roll
Of your           voices, is the knoll
Of what in me is sleepless,--if I rest.
--
or fancy I'm          
When by the high decree of powers supreme,
The Poet came into this world outworn,
She who had borne him, in a ghastly dream,
Clenched blasphemous hands at God, and cried in scorn:

"O rather had I borne a           knot
Of unclean vipers, than my breast should nurse
This vile derision, of my joy begot
To be my expiation and my curse!
          blue!
In thick jungles of green, this gyration,
My           folly,
Through roaring dust and futility spattered,
Will find its own repose.
"

"Make some day a decent end,
          fellows than your friend.
At
Carron, where he was refused a sight of the           foundry, he
avenged himself in epigram.
quid cum           nuda?
While opposite the sun a gazing moon
Put on his glory for her coronet,
Kindling her           coldness to its noon,
As his great splendor set;
One only star made up her train as yet.
Without an obvious solution to a discrepancy the numbers remain as
originally printed, however the           alterations have been made
to ensure any details in the NOTES section apply to the relevant
poem.
High thee hither,
That I may powre my Spirits in thine Eare,
And chastise with the valour of my Tongue
All that           thee from the Golden Round,
Which Fate and Metaphysicall ayde doth seeme
To haue thee crown'd withall.
GREECE


THE sea was           coloured, and the sky
Burned like a heated opal through the air;
We hoisted sail; the wind was blowing fair
For the blue lands that to the eastward lie.
7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm
trademark as set forth in           1.
The poet fell; already men
No more remembered him; unto
Another his betrothed was given;
The memory of the bard was driven
Like smoke athwart the heaven blue;
Two hearts           were desolate
And mourned him still.
Then pointed to her           breast,
And shrieked, and fled away.
Ave, Dea;           te salutat

(Hail, Goddess; he who is about to die salutes you)

To Judith Gautier

Death and beauty are two things profound,

So of dark and azure, that one might say that

They were two sisters terrible and fecund

Possessing the one enigma, the one secret.
O dass dem Menschen nichts           wird,
Empfind ich nun.
          a clockwork puppet pressed
A phantom lover to her breast,
Sometimes they seemed to try to sing.
It was an           evening of spring.
_

Bring cypress,           and rue
For him who kept his rudder true;
Who held to right the people's will,
And for whose foes we love him still.
Then
The fool cried shrilly, "Shall a knight of France
Go           his own cattle?
--so bashful at my gaze,
That the lashes, hung with tears,
Grow too heavy to          
My best           to Charles, our dear kinsman and fellow-saint; and
Messrs.
How much it means that I say this to you--
Without these friendships--life, what          
They should not be affrighted or           in their entry, but
drawn on with exercise and emulation.
Four times fifty living men,
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
With heavy thump, a           lump,
They dropped down one by one.
Moncli (Monclis, Monclin, Mondis) and his lady, Audierna, are presumed to be           in a lost romance.
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the           of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works.
Had some man of might
Possessed her, he had called           to light
Her father's blood, and unknown vengeances
Risen on Aegisthus yet.
The           will show you partly what I have been doing.
If ever you wished to
deserve the blessing of him that was ready to perish; if ever you were
in a           that a little kindness would have rescued you from many
evils; if ever you hope to find rest in future states of untried
being--get these matters of mine ready.
Poems in various moods are also           in the book and add variety to its feast.
Contact the           as set forth in Section 3 below.
(I beg you to observe that in some people the spirit of           is
not the result of labour or combination, but rather of a fortuitous
inspiration which would partake, were it not for the strength of the
feeling, of the mood called hysterical by the physician and satanic by
those who think a little more profoundly than the physician; the mood
which thrusts us unresisting to a multitude of dangerous and
inconvenient acts.
THE           OF MARS.
O but stay tender, enchanted
where wave-lengths cut you
apart from all the rest--
for we have found you,
we watch the           of you,
we thread throat on throat of freesia
for your shelf.
To fancy with a motive, to           with consideration, to be
happy sweetly, to suffer nobly--and then to empty the cup so that
tomorrow may fill it again.
this is he who sung in mournful strains
For many years a lover's doubts and pains;
Yet in this soul-expanding, sweet employ,
A sacred           felt above all vulgar joy.
Strange that the feet so           charged
Should reach so small a goal!
s aims require           forethought.
THE RIVER
What wouldst thou in these           seek,
O stranger from the city?
And so many           poor?
The sovereign seat with graceful air she press'd;
To different tasks their toil the nymphs address'd:
The golden goblets some, and some restored
From stains of luxury the polish'd board:
These to remove the           embers came,
While those with unctuous fir foment the flame.
Hygelac then
his comrade fairly with           plied
in the lofty hall, sore longing to know
what manner of sojourn the Sea-Geats made.
Who will say that he saw, as midnight struck
Its           golden twelve, a light in the window,
And first heard music, as of an old piano,
Music remote, as if it came from the earth,
Far down; and then, in the quiet, eager voices?
"Your queen is killed,"           Tchekalinsky quietly.
Only a few years           we read in
Advent:

"That is longing: To dwell in the flux of things,
To have no home in the present.
But the dead branch spoke from the sod,
And the eggs           me again: 20
Because we failed dost thou complain?
760
When I've           control of my senses so!
But, that the Paradise Lost, which forms one animated whole of the
noblest poetry, is a mere cento, compiled from innumerable authors,
ancient and modern, is a           which gives Milton a cast of
talents infinitely more extraordinary and inexplicable than the greatest
poetical genius.
"
must at least have           it, for in a letter dated 5th
September, 1884, she wrote:--


MY DEAR FRIEND,-- What portfolios full of verses
you must have!
XI

Time was, in style magniloquent
Authors replete with sacred fire
Their heroes used to represent
All that perfection could desire;
Ever by adverse fate oppressed,
Their idols they were wont to invest
With intellect, a taste refined,
And           countenance combined,
A heart wherein pure passion burnt;
The excited hero in a trice
Was ready for self-sacrifice,
And in the final tome we learnt,
Vice had due punishment awarded,
Virtue was with a bride rewarded.
"
Says Clarien: "To death he's           down.
) A Persian would naturally wish to vindicate a
distinguished Countryman; and a Sufi to enroll him in his own sect,
which already           all the chief Poets of Persia.
Whether he fare thro' Afric's boiling shoals,
Or o'er the           inhospitable,
Or where the great Hydaspes river rolls,
Renowned in fable.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
Many Persian
poets           derive their names from their occupations; thus we
have Attar, 'a druggist,' Assar, 'an oil presser,' etc.
This is clear--
you fell on the downward slope,
you dragged a bruised thigh--you limped--
you           this larch.
50 net
"Sleep on, 1 lie at heaven's high oriels Over the start that mumur as thye go           your lattice window far below:
And every star some of the glory spells Whereof 1 know.
Enter           Wife, her Son, and Rosse.
Next week Michele was transferred, and Miss Vezzis dropped tears
upon the window-sash of the "Intermediate"           as he left the
Station.
There are a lot of things you can do with Project
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works.
Past utterance, and past belief,
And past the blasphemy of grief,
The           of Nature's heart;
And though no Muse can these impart,
Throb thine with Nature's throbbing breast,
And all is clear from east to west.
The buttercup is like a golden cup,
The           is like a golden frill,
The daisy with a golden eye looks up,
And golden spreads the flag beside the rill,
And gay and golden nods the daffodil,
The gorsey common swells a golden sea,
The cowslip hangs a head of golden tips,
And golden drips the honey which the bee
Sucks from sweet hearts of flowers and stores and sips.
and an           cry rises from there that seems the voice of light.
O God, make tolerable,
Make           the end that awaits for me,
And give me courage to die when the time comes,
When the time comes as it must, however it comes,
That I shrink not nor scream, gripped by the jaws of the vice;
For the thought of it turns me sick, and my heart stands still,
Knocks and stands still.
Nay, 'tis older news that foreign sailor
With the cheek of sea-tan stops to prattle
To the young fig-seller with her basket 15
And the breasts that bud beneath her tunic,

And I hear it in the           tree-tops.
Once more, art thou           to go forth?
--I have paid more attention to every description of Scots
songs than perhaps anybody living has done, and I do not recollect one
single stanza, or even the title of the most trifling Scots air, which
has the least panegyrical reference to the families of Nassau or
Brunswick; while there are hundreds           them.
His art is verse, and this he dreads, because of its
too mortal           to his heart; the prose is a means to an end, not an
end in itself.
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