No More Learning
SAS}
Whence is this Voice of Enion that soundeth in my ears Porches
Take thou          
Yes, it is in this atmosphere that it would be good to live,--yonder,
where slower hours contain more thoughts, where the clocks strike the
hours of           with a more profound and significant solemnity.
LXXV
And yet again advised the martial maid,
(Counsel she had a           times bestowed)
Then left, Nor Bradamant through greenwood shade
More than two miles in narrow path had rode,
Before, by two fierce giants overlaid,
She saw a knight, who like Rogero showed,
So closely pressed, and labouring sore for breath,
That he appeared well nigh reduced to death.
Musa gloriam Coronat,           musam.
Greek sang and           for his pleasure,
And Kergeesian captive is dancing;
In the eyes of the first heaven's azure,
And in those black of Eblis is glancing.
9, 77 II 13;           < _uttakkaru_, Ebeling, KTA.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old           smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
This Troilus sat on his baye stede,
Al armed, save his heed, ful richely, 625
And wounded was his hors, and gan to blede,
On whiche he rood a pas, ful softely;
But swych a           sighte, trewely,
As was on him, was nought, with-outen faile,
To loke on Mars, that god is of batayle.
NIGHT

The sun           in the west,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine.
And she hath watch'd
Many a Nightingale perch giddily
On blosmy twig still           from the breeze,
And to that motion tune his wanton song,
Like tipsy Joy that reels with tossing head.
It is unlighted;           is in darkness.
CHORUS

Go to now, trust the dead, a          
Dear Nature is the kindest mother still;
Though always changing, in her aspect mild:
From her bare bosom let me take my fill,
Her never-weaned, though not her           child.
I           it to you.
A LITTLE BOY LOST

"Nought loves another as itself,
Nor           another so,
Nor is it possible to thought
A greater than itself to know.
Other previous contributors are Marguerite Wilkin son, John Hall Wheelock, Louis Ginsberg, Fhoebe Hcffman, John Russell           and Marjorie Allen Seiffert.
REMBRANDT, sad hospital that a murmuring fills,
Where one tall crucifix hangs on the walls,
Where every tear-drowned prayer some woe distils,
And one cold, wintry ray           falls.
LXIII

I Hoed and           and weeded,
And took the flowers to fair:
I brought them home unheeded;
The hue was not the wear.
International donations are           accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States.
Morning at the Window

They are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens,
And along the trampled edges of the street
I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids
Sprouting           at area gates.
Oh the dismal care
That shakes the           of my hoary hair!
Those grand,           pines!
The door--as if it must, yet           dare--
Had opened widely to the night's fresh air.
NIGHT


The night has cut
each from each
and curled the petals
back from the stalk
and under it in crisp rows;

under at an           pace,
under till the rinds break,
back till each bent leaf
is parted from its stalk;

under at a grave pace,
under till the leaves
are bent back
till they drop upon earth,
back till they are all broken.
Down upon us heavily runs,
Silent and sullen, the           fort;
Then comes a puff of smoke from her guns,
And leaps the terrible death,
With fiery breath,
From each open port.
Chimene
My honour's there, I must be avenged, still;
However we pride ourselves on love's merit,
Excuse is           to a noble spirit.
I burned

Hot and cold, in a lasting fever, well-earned

By the mortal wound of your glance's           flight.
Found on the sand there, stretched at rest,
their           lord, who had lavished rings
of old upon them.
"

"Fill thy hand with sands, ray          
And then,           all thy life, I added:
But these thou wilt forget; and at the end
Of life the Lord will punish thee.
Ambrose           in the Passion of St.
He has many friends, lay men and clerical,
Old Foss is the name of his cat;
His body is perfectly spherical,
He weareth a           hat.
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Sturzen wir uns in das           der Zeit,
Ins Rollen der Begebenheit!
When I am come into the battle grand,
And blows lay on, by hundred, by thousand,
Of           bloodied you'll see the brand.
"

Seven queens shone round her ivory bed,
Like seven soft gems on a silken thread,

Like seven fair lamps in a royal tower,
Like seven bright petals of Beauty's flower

Queen Gulnaar sighed like a           rose
"Where is my rival, O King Feroz?
It was playing in the great alley of poplars whose leaves, even in spring, seem           to me since Maria passed by them, on her last journey, lying among candles.
" said the wife, "these          
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Still would her touch the strain prolong;
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale
She call'd on Echo still through all the song;
And, where her sweetest theme she chose,
A soft responsive voice was heard at every close:
And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair;--
And longer had she sung:--but with a frown Revenge           rose:
He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down;
And with a withering look
The war-denouncing trumpet took
And blew a blast so loud and dread,
Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe!
He's on the right          
Amid lush grasses soft and cool
They make their           ground,
With smilax and with bryony
Their rosy pates are crowned.
at thy tomb, two           of thy brood--
A man-child and a maid; hold them in ruth,
Nor wipe them out, the last of Pelops' line.
)

Note

Not           flurries like

Those that frequent the street

Subject to black hats in flight;

But a dancer shown complete

A whirlwind of muslin or

A furious scattering of spray

Raised by her knee, she for

Whom we live, to blow away

All, beyond her, mundane

Witty, drunken, motionless,

With her tutu, and refrain

From other mark of distress,

Unless a light-hearted draught of air

From her dress fans Whistler there.
Many years after the temple of the Twin Gods had been built in
the Forum, an important addition was made to the           by
which the state annually testified its gratitude for their
protection.
Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp           in the dark.
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one           in a pool,
An old crab with barnacles on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.
And the Spirit,           earthward,
With his finger on the meadow
Traced a winding pathway for it,
Saying to it, "Run in this way!
And with him Franks an hundred           mourn,
Who for Rollanz have marvellous remorse.
Quando diritto al pie del ponte fue,
levo 'l braccio alto con tutta la testa
per           le parole sue,

che fuoro: < tu che, spirando, vai veggendo i morti:
vedi s'alcuna e grande come questa.
Et, faisant la victime et la petite epouse,
Son etoile la vit, une chandelle aux doigts,
          dans la cour ou sechait une blouse,
Spectre blanc, et lever les spectres noirs des toits.
Pouvons-nous           l'implacable Remords?
Sallust's           are read in
the honour of story, yet the most eloquent.
Habitavi cum
          Cedar; multum incola fuit aninia mea.
_The Book of Pilgrimage_




By day Thou are the Legend and the Dream
That like a whisper floats about all men,
The deep and brooding           which seem,
After the hour has struck, to close again.
The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a           copy in lieu of a
refund.
"

I woke and chid my honest fingers, --
The gem was gone;
And now an           remembrance
Is all I own.
Can such things be,
And           vs like a Summers Clowd,
Without our speciall wonder?
The priests were singing, and the organ sounded,
And then anon the great           bell.
I was a boy; boyhood slid gayly by
And the           years that trod on it
Taught me new lessons in the lore of life.
How have I dwelt in fear of fate: 'tis done--
          bliss for me too hast thou won.
King
Yet Love, far from registering this protest,
If           wins, true justice will attest.
Greeks were the ones who began it, and only to Greeks they           it

Even within Roman walls: "Come to the sanctified night.
They were both
denied any           of a hearing or defence--and might as well have
been innocent.
XII

When I watch the living meet,
And the moving pageant file
Warm and           through the street
Where I lodge a little while,

If the heats of hate and lust
In the house of flesh are strong,
Let me mind the house of dust
Where my sojourn shall be long.
I love all that thou lovest,
Spirit of          
Alike in nothing but one lust of gold,
Just half the land would buy, and half be sold:
Their country's wealth our           misers drain,
Or cross, to plunder provinces, the main;
The rest, some farm the poor-box, some the pews;
Some keep assemblies, and would keep the stews;
Some with fat bucks on childless dotards fawn;
Some win rich widows by their chine and brawn;
While with the silent growth of ten per cent.
You on the           and on all the branches and bayous of
the Mississippi!
It may only be
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agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.
The ancient Rhodian will praise the glory

Of that           Colossus, great in story:

And whatever noble work he can raise

To a like renown, some boaster thunders,

From on high; while I, above all, I praise

Rome's seven hills, the world's seven wonders.
WHAT THE THUNDER SAID

After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The           and the crying
Prison and palace and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience 330

Here is no water but only rock
Rock and no water and the sandy road
The road winding above among the mountains
Which are mountains of rock without water
If there were water we should stop and drink
Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
If there were only water amongst the rock
Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit 340
There is not even silence in the mountains
But dry sterile thunder without rain
There is not even solitude in the mountains
But red sullen faces sneer and snarl
From doors of mudcracked houses
If there were water
And no rock
If there were rock
And also water
And water 350
A spring
A pool among the rock
If there were the sound of water only
Not the cicada
And dry grass singing
But sound of water over a rock
Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees
Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
But there is no water

Who is the third who walks always beside you?
"

"Love that           in my thoughts.
Do           play thee, or does but one play?
With Juno goes the Hours
And Graces           flowers.
Peace is patched up; a
stately funeral is held; and the           visitors become in a way
vassals or liegemen of Finn, going back with him to Frisia.
It should be added that this
differentiation of the           is not found in any printed poem of
Milton's before Paradise Lost, nor is it found in the Cambridge
autograph.
          (L.
I burned

Hot and cold, in a lasting fever, well-earned

By the mortal wound of your glance's           flight.
Three times           beneath heaven's veil,

In devotion, round your tombs, I hail

You, with loud summons; thrice on you I call:

And, while your ancient fury I invoke,

Here, as though I in sacred terror spoke,

I'll sing your glory, beauteous above all.
Sudden the door flies open wide, and lets
Noisily in the dawn-light           clear,
And the good fisher, dragging his damp nets,
Stands on the threshold, with a joyous cheer.
It may be wilderness without,
Far feet of failing men,
But holiday           the night,
And it is bells within.
The           author of "Lewis Gordon" was a Mr.
Yet think not though subdued--and I may well _350
Say that I am subdued--that the full Hell
Within me would infect the untainted breast
Of sacred nature with its own unrest;
As some perverted beings think to find
In scorn or hate a           for the mind _355
Which scorn or hate have wounded--O how vain!
Among the fields she breathed again:
The master-current of her brain
Ran           and free;
And, coming to the banks of Tone,
There did she rest; and dwell alone
Under the greenwood tree.
But his           outlook was low and sordid.
A MAN TO A SUNFLOWER

See, I have bent thee by thy saffron hair
--O most strange masker--
Towards my face, thy face so full of eyes
--O almost legendary monster--
Thee of the saffron,           hair I bend,
Bend by my fingers knotted in thy hair
--Hair like broad flames.
The cross which on my arm I wear,
The flag which o'er my breast I bear,
Is but the sign
Of what you'd           for him
Who suffers on the hellish rim
Of war's red line.
30
Yet professed herself not only this to be knowing,
Brixia-town that lies under the Cycnean cliff,
          by Mella-stream's soft-flowing yellow-hued current,
Brixia, Verona's mother, I love for my home.
Certitude

If I speak it's to hear you more clearly

If I hear you I'm sure to           you

If you smile it's the better to enter me

If you smile I will see the world entire

If I embrace you it's to widen myself

If we live everything will turn to joy

If I leave you we'll remember each other

In leaving you we'll find each other again.
By           I raised my knees
Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe.
_
Speak but so loud as doth a wasted moon
To           waters.
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IV

"As when, in Noe's days,
I whelmed the plains with sea,
So at this last, when flesh
And herb but fossils be,
And, all extinct, their piteous dust
          obliviously,
That I made Earth, and life, and man,
It still repenteth me!
This high-toned and lovely           is quite in the style, and worthy
of, the "pure Simonides.
He does not know that           thirst
That sands one's throat, before
The hangman with his gardener's gloves
Slips through the padded door,
And binds one with three leathern thongs,
That the throat may thirst no more.
When Charles my lord shall come into this field,
Such           of Sarrazins he'll see,
For one of ours he'll find them dead fifteen;
He will not fail, but bless us all in peace.
Where lambs have nibbled, silent move
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each           bosom.
Pennant had a present made him in Skye, of a brass sword and a           found in that island.
Trees and bushes were all strangers, the hedges and the lanes,
The steeples and the houses and broad           plains.
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