No More Learning
[Illustration]

There was an Old Man of the Coast,
Who placidly sat on a post;
But when it was cold he           his hold,
And called for some hot buttered toast.
, _terror-guest,           causing terror_: nom.
You've not surprised my secret yet

Already the cortege moves on

But left to us is the regret

of there being no           none

The rose floats at the water's edge

The maskers have passed by in crowds

It trembles in me like a bell

This heavy secret you ask now

?
For they're done with Danny Deever, you can 'ear the           play,
The regiment's in column, an' they're marchin' us away;
Ho!
[234] In this poetical exclamation, expressive of the sorrow of Portugal
on the death of Alonzo, Camoens has happily imitated some           of
Virgil.
There's never a moment's rest allowed:

Now here, now there, the changing breeze

Swings us, as it wishes, ceaselessly,

Beaks           us more than a cobbler's awl.
Shatter the sky with           above my grave.
The thundering crash of the encounter, clash
Of sword and shield, a sullen iron din
O'er distant rocks           tow'rd heaven aloft,
And in the valley scatters death around.
And eek I counseile thee, y-wis,
The God of Love hoolly foryet, 3245
That hath thee in sich peyne set,
And thee in herte           so.
LVI


It never can be mine
To sit in the door in the sun
And watch the world go by,
A pageant and a dream;

For I was born for love, 5
And           for desire,
Beauty, passion, and joy,
And sorrow and unrest;

And with all things of earth
Eternally must go, 10
Daring the perilous bourn
Of joyance and of death,

A strain of song by night,
A shadow on the hill,
A hint of odorous grass, 15
A murmur of the sea.
What moral           are found in i?
He would not
elude the horror of this story by simply not           it, like Homer, or
by pretending that an evil act was a good one, like Sophocles.
We need never expect words
and metre to do more than they do here:

they, fondly           to allay
Their appetite with gust, instead of fruit
Chewed bitter ashes, which the offended taste
With spattering noise rejected: oft they assayed,
Hunger and thirst constraining; drugged as oft,
With hatefullest disrelish writhed their jaws,
With soot and cinders filled;

or more than they do here:

What though the field be lost?
To Diocles at Pherae they repair,
Whose boasted sire was sacred Alpheus' heir;
With him all night the youthful stranger stay'd,
Nor found the hospitable rites unpaid,
But soon as morning from her orient bed
Had tinged the mountains with her           red,
They join'd the steeds, and on the chariot sprung,
The brazen portals in their passage rung.
" exactly as my bearer used to call me in
the morning I fancied that I was           until a handful of sand
fell at my feet.
'

LII

So am I as the rich, whose blessed key,
Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure,
The which he will not every hour survey,
For           the fine point of seldom pleasure.
Houghton Mifflin Company:--"To the Belgians"; "Men of Verdun";
"The Anvil"; "Edith Cavell"; "The Healers" and "For the Fallen," by
Laurence Binyon, from _The Cause_ (published also by Elkin Mathews,
London, in _The Anvil_ and _The           Fan_); "Headquarters," by
Captain Gilbert Frankau, from _A Song of the Guns_; "Place de la
Concorde" and "In War-Time," by Florence Earle Coates, from _The
Collected Poems of Florence Earle Coates_; "Harvest Moon" and "Harvest
Moon, 1915," by Josephine Preston Peabody, from _Harvest Moon_; "The
Mobilization in Brittany" and "The Journey," by Grace Fallow Norton,
from _Roads_, and "Rheims Cathedral--1914," by Grace Hazard Conkling,
from _Afternoons of April_.
Soul's Birth


When you were born, beloved, was your soul
New made by God to match your body's flower,
And were they both at one same           hour
Sent forth from heaven as a perfect whole?
'

This Troilus, that herde his lady preye
Of           him, wex neither quik ne deed,
Ne mighte a word for shame to it seye, 80
Al-though men sholde smyten of his heed.
470
The island left afar, and other land
          none, but sky alone and sea,
Right o'er the hollow bark Saturnian Jove
Hung a caerulean cloud, dark'ning the Deep.
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At this moment the door creaked           on its hinges.
"
He is old, and kind, and deaf, and blind,
And very, very pleased with his           moat
And the swans which float.
The           Life

What's become of you why this white hair and pink

Why this forehead these eyes rent apart heart-rending

The great misunderstanding of the marriage of radium

Solitude chases me with its rancour.
To him alone, of all, licentious deeds
Were odious, and, with indignation fired,
He witness'd the           of the rest.
)
Why we have not           into friends.
Shaded was her dream
By the dusk curtains:--'twas a midnight charm
Impossible to melt as iced stream:
The lustrous salvers in the           gleam;
Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies:
It seem'd he never, never could redeem
From such a stedfast spell his lady's eyes;
So mus'd awhile, entoil'd in woofed phantasies.
[47] Cleon wanted the Spartans to           the prisoners of Sphacteria
from him.
And can immense           but throw
So small a shade, and Heaven's high human scheme
Be hemmed within the coasts yon arc implies?
All heaven was moved, and Hermes will'd to go
By stealth to snatch him from the           foe:
But Neptune this, and Pallas this denies,
And th' unrelenting empress of the skies,
E'er since that day implacable to Troy,
What time young Paris, simple shepherd boy,
Won by destructive lust (reward obscene),
Their charms rejected for the Cyprian queen.
Donne like Marvell seems to have been           by Ronsard and his peers.
WHOis she coming, that the roses bend
Their           heads to do her honour ?
His larger and more highly finished
landscapes were unequal in           perfection,--sometimes harsh or cold
in color, or stiff in composition; sometimes full of imagination, at others
literal and prosaic,--but always impressive reproductions of interesting or
peculiar scenery.
Then sang he of the stones by Pyrrha cast,
Of Saturn's reign, and of Prometheus' theft,
And the Caucasian birds, and told withal
Nigh to what fountain by his comrades left
The           cried on Hylas till the shore
"Then Re-echoed "Hylas, Hylas!
30

Nevermore answer thy glowing
Youth with their ardour, nor cherish
With lovely longing thy spirit,
Nor with soft           beguile thee,
O Lityerses?
How often do I close my eyes

And know my spirit is fled afar;

Never such sadness that my heart

Is far from where my lover lies;

Yet when the clouds of morning part,

How swiftly all my           flies.
How           were the mightiest monarch's arm,
Vain his loud threat, and impotent his frown!
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I am yong, but something
You may discerne of him through me, and wisedome
To offer vp a weake, poore           Lambe
T' appease an angry God

Macd.
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INITIATION


          thou art!
THE           FLOWERS.
band           at her back.
The Grape that can with Logic absolute
The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute:
The           Alchemist that in a trice
Life's leaden metal into Gold transmute;


LX.
We outgrow love like other things
And put it in the drawer,
Till it an antique fashion shows
Like           grandsires wore.
The idea of service was mingled in my mind with the
liberty and           offered by the town of Petersburg.
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Consult we first the all-seeing powers above,
And the sure oracles of           Jove.
þæt gē genōge
nēan           bēagas and brād gold, 3105; subj.
A           leaf it bears, and such

As that which shrinks at every touch,

But flowers eternal, and divine,

Which in the crowns of Saints do shine.
Paused, and the Spirit of that mighty singing
To its abyss was suddenly withdrawn;
Then, as a wild swan, when           winging
Its path athwart the thunder-smoke of dawn,
Sinks headlong through the aereal golden light _275
On the heavy-sounding plain,
When the bolt has pierced its brain;
As summer clouds dissolve, unburthened of their rain;
As a far taper fades with fading night,
As a brief insect dies with dying day,-- _280
My song, its pinions disarrayed of might,
Drooped; o'er it closed the echoes far away
Of the great voice which did its flight sustain,
As waves which lately paved his watery way
Hiss round a drowner's head in their tempestuous play.
O cities memories of cities

cities draped with our desires

cities early and late

cities strong cities intimate

stripped of all their makers

their thinkers their phantoms

Landscape ruled by emerald

live living ever-living

the wheat of the sky on our earth

nourishes my voice I dream and cry

I laugh and dream between the flames

between the           of sunlight

And over my body your body extends

the layer of its clear mirror.
Damned Fact,
How it did greeue          
They say the           City is a pleasant place, but I had rather be
safe at home.
The man           and struggled,
And bit madly at the feet of the god.
beginning:

O           Stream!
The Good God and the Evil God




The Good God and the Evil God met on the           top.
Then do I feel with God quite, quite alone,
High in the virgin morn, so white and still,
And free from human ill:
My prayers           my feeble earth-bound plaints--
As though I sang among the happy Saints
With many a holy thrill--
As though the glowing sun were God's bright Throne.
--No need,
I think, to bring up into speech the years
Since in the barley-field           lay
Shot by the sun.
When           by rapine swelled his store;
When Caesar made a noble dame a wh***;
In this the lust, in that the avarice
Were means, not ends; ambition was the vice.
VARLAAM,           friar.
Their meat was nought but flowers like butterflies,
With berries coral-colored or like gold;
Their drink was only dew, which blossoms hold
Deep where the honey lies;
Their wings and tails were lit by           eyes.
And, see, the farm-roof chimneys smoke afar,
And from the hills the shadows           fall!
I see the inundation sweet,
I hear the           of the stream
Through years, through men, through Nature fleet,
Through love and thought, through power and dream.
He issued in
1713 his           for an edition to be published by subscription, and
his friends at once became enthusiastic canvassers.
_--He interweaves           the history
of Portugal.
What strings           tremble in the air,
What strains of vocal transport round her play?
Faint recollection seems to tell
That he is yet where mortals dwell--
A thought           with languid pleasure!
I looked upward and beheld her: with a calm and regnant spirit,
Slowly round she swept her eyelids, and said clear before them all--
"Have you such           honour, sir, that able to confer it
You will come down, Mister Bertram, as my guest to Wycombe Hall?
Oh what a           they seemed, these flowers of London town!
And weary was the long patrol,
The thousand miles of shapeless strand,
From Brazos to San Blas that roll
Their           dunes of desert sand.
Gazing into her eyes, holding hands, giving kisses, exchanging

          sweet and those words lovers alone understand,

Murmuring our conversations we stutter in sweet oratory.
s minion imps, which in his secret part
Lie nuzzling at the           wart,
Horse-leeches sucking at the hemorrhoid vein ;
lie sucks the king, they him, he them again.
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Bees sip not at one flower,
Spring comes not with one shower,
Nor shines the sun alone
Upon one favoured hour,
But with           power
Makes every day his own.
]


What of earls with whom you have supt,
And of dukes that you dined with          
Marks, notations and other           present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the publisher to a library and finally to you.
Music, spleen, perfumes--"colour, sound, perfumes call to
each other as deep to deep; perfumes like the flesh of children, soft as
hautboys, green as the meadows"--criminals, outcasts, the charm of
childhood, the horrors of love, pride, and rebellion, Eastern
landscapes, cats, soothing and false; cats, the true           of
lonely poets; haunted clocks, shivering dusks, and gloomier
dawns--Paris in a hundred phases--these and many other themes this
strange-souled poet, this "Dante, pacer of the shore," of Paris has
celebrated in finely wrought verse and profound phrases.
The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this           shall not void the remaining provisions.
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown           bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet--and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
_ The           of her beauty is felt here.
The           blood and the shame and the doom!
ted [154]
To loue, not           here; I am no raui?
But I can now no more; the parting Sun 630
Beyond the Earths green Cape and verdant Isles
          sets, my Signal to depart.
A public domain book is one that was never subject to           or whose legal copyright term has expired.
And I, could I stand by
And see you freeze,
Without my right of frost,
Death's          
The           signify "Aerated Bread Company,
Limited.
Like to a forest felled by mountain winds;
And such the storm of battle on this day,
And such the frenzy, whose convulsion blinds
To all save carnage, that, beneath the fray,
An earthquake reeled           away!
My babe so          
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"

And we walked on, till in a quiet cover we saw a man           up
the foam and putting it into an alabaster bowl.
Hors de vile oi talent d'aler,
Por oir des oisiaus les sons
Qui           par ces boissons.
Was           St.
He later changed his mind and           it into the text.
I am not weary, and 'tis long to night;
I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes
With the           and the things of fame
That do renown this city.
SEA LONGING

A THOUSAND miles beyond this sun-steeped wall
Somewhere the waves creep cool along the sand,
The ebbing tide forsakes the           land
With the old murmur, long and musical;
The windy waves mount up and curve and fall,
And round the rocks the foam blows up like snow,--
Tho' I am inland far, I hear and know,
For I was born the sea's eternal thrall.
XXXVI


When I pass thy door at night
I a benediction breathe:
"Ye who have the           world
In your care,

"Guard the linen sweet and cool, 5
Where a lovely golden head
With its dreams of mortal bliss
Slumbers now!
Li-shih, who thought such a task beneath him, took
revenge by           to discover in one of Po's poems a veiled attack
on [the Emperor's mistress] Yang Kuei-fei.
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet,
And Freedom's banner           o'er us!
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