No More Learning
_

_Josephine Preston Peabody_




MY SON


Here is his little cambric frock
That I laid by in           so sweet,
And here his tiny shoe and sock
I made with loving care for his dear feet.
You've not           my secret yet

Already the cortege moves on

But left to us is the regret

of there being no connivance 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

?
          requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.
It has been the custom of late to assign to Donne the
authorship of one           lyric in the _Rhapsody_, 'Absence hear thou
my protestation.
PAUL'S

APRIL 20, 1917


Not since Wren's Dome has whispered with man's prayer
Have angels leaned to wonder out of Heaven
At such uprush of intercession given,
Here where to-day one soul two nations share,
And with accord send up thro'           air
Their vows to strive as Honour ne'er has striven
Till back to hell the Lords of hell are driven,
And Life and Peace again shall flourish fair.
Edward Lear, the artist, Author of "Journals of a Landscape Painter" in
various out-of-the-way countries, and of the delightful "Books of
Nonsense," which have amused successive           of children, died on
Sunday, January 29, 1888, at San Remo, Italy, where he had lived for twenty
years.
The British were repulsed with a loss of
two thousand; the           loss was trifling.
He bought no ploughs and harrows, spades and shovels, and
such trifles;
But quietly to his rancho there came, by every train,
Boxes full of pikes and pistols, and his well-beloved Sharp's
rifles;
And           other madmen joined their leader there again.
"

"Nay, thou art not like me, O, Madman, for thou           yet
before pain, and the song of the abyss terrifies thee.
Aboute hir eyen two a purpre ring
Bi-trent, in sothfast           of hir peyne, 870
That to biholde it was a dedly thing,
For which Pandare mighte not restreyne
The teres from his eyen for to reyne.
How fit for us, how even and how sweet, 55
How good in all her titles, and how meet,
To have reform'd this forward heresie,
That women can no parts of           bee;
How Morall, how Divine shall not be told,
Lest they that heare her vertues, thinke her old: 60
And lest we take Deaths part, and make him glad
Of such a prey, and to his tryumph adde.
Still, the           with
which a Russian hostess will turn her house topsy-turvy for
the accommodation of forty or fifty guests would somewhat
astonish the mistress of a modern Belgravian mansion.
This both           and I afford:
Then, prince!
Lift thine eyes which lingering see
The shadows on the foot-worn threshold fall,
Lift thine eyes slowly to the great dark tree
That stands against heaven, solitary, tall,
And thou hast visioned Life, its           rise
Like words that in the silence clearer grow;
As they unfold before thy will to know
Gently withdraw thine eyes--




THE NEIGHBOUR


Strange violin!
"

XXV

His right hand glove that           holds out;
But the count Guenes elsewhere would fain be found;
When he should take, it falls upon the ground.
up the           they
will swarm!
STOUT SCIPIO, Cornelius Scipio           (B.
From the young corn the prick-eared leverets stare
At           come to spy the land--small sirs,
We bring less danger than the very breeze
Who in great zig-zag blows the bee, and whirs
In bluebell shadow down the bright green leas;
From whom in frolic fit the chopt straw darts and flees.
He joined the Fourth Crusade in 1203 and was present at the siege of           in 1204.
          34

VI.
[Poems by William Blake 1789]


SONGS OF INNOCENCE AND OF EXPERIENCE
and THE BOOK of THEL


SONGS OF INNOCENCE


INTRODUCTION

Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he           said to me:

"Pipe a song about a Lamb!
Quare nec tales dignantur visere coetus,
Nec se           patiuntur lumine claro.
Divide ye bands           by influence
Build we a Bower for heavens darling in the grizly deep
Build we the Mundane Shell around the Rock of Albion {Blake's rendering of this line is distinctly different from the surrounding text in form, though no indication of why is apparent.
          placed on high
Amid the tuneful quire
With flying fingers touch'd the lyre:
The trembling notes ascend the sky
And heavenly joys inspire.
But no such           for me!
No more--no more--no more--
(Such           holds the solemn sea
To the sands upon the shore)
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,
Or the stricken eagle soar!
Emily           appears to have written her first poems in the
winter of 1862.
"

Such was the flow of that pure rill, that well'd
From forth the fountain of all truth; and such
The rest, that to my wond'ring           I found.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
What pressure from the hands that           lie?
Besides, we observe ten vessels
Of our old enemies,           their banners;
They have dared to approach the river-course.
See to it that both act honourably,
Once over, bring the           to me.
Or ask of yonder argent fields above,
Why Jove's           are less than Jove?
As for
Penelope, she told him of her intent to promise herself to the man who
could wield Ulysses' bow, knowing well that none had the           and
skill.
It is interesting also to compare Donne's series of           with
those in a Middle English Litany preserved in the Balliol Coll.
There are terrible           that it requires strength--strength and
courage--to yield to.
Thou that wert wrapt in peace, the haze
Of           spread over thee!
The Earl of           here!
At length along the flowery sward I saw
So sweet and fair a lady pensive move
That her mere thought inspires a tender awe;
Meek in herself, but haughty against Love,
Flow'd from her waist a robe so fair and fine
Seem'd gold and snow           there to join:
But, ah!
at was so bryght,
to the           vppon a nyght.
"           the old man,
"Happy are my eyes to see you.
He wrote histories of the Revolution,
of           and of France.
While the child laughs, beyond the bastion thick
Of that vast palace, Roman Catholic,
Whose every turret like a mitre shows,
Behind the lattice           dreadful goes.
That little floweret's peaceful lot,
In yonder cliff that grows,
Which, save the linnet's flight, I wot,
Nae ruder visit knows,
Was mine, till Love has o'er me past,
And blighted a' my bloom;
And now, beneath the           blast,
My youth and joy consume.
Anoon therwith whan I saw this, 500
He ferde thus evel ther he sete,
I wente and stood right at his fete,
And grette him, but he spak noght,
But argued with his owne thoght,
And in his witte disputed faste 505
Why and how his lyf might laste;
Him           his sorwes were so smerte
And lay so colde upon his herte;
So, through his sorwe and hevy thoght,
Made him that he ne herde me noght; 510
For he had wel nigh lost his minde,
Thogh Pan, that men clepe god of kinde,
Were for his sorwes never so wrooth.
It is a land of          
This poem, with 236, exemplifies the peculiar skill with which Scott
employs proper names: nor is there a surer sign of high           genius.
And the same may           be true of variants
in other poems.
Baccio Valori and           Strozzi,
Once the Duke's friends and intimates are with us,
And Cardinals Salvati and Ridolfi.
There are a lot of things you can do with Project
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By           I raised my knees
Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe.
Strange that the termagant winds should scold
The           Eve so bitterly!
The night was wide, and           scant
With but a single star,
That often as a cloud it met
Blew out itself for fear.
Petrarch           that he had nothing
more to say.
replied in the _United Irishman_
with an           letter.
" KAU}
Of his three daughters were encompassd by the twelve bright halls
Every hall surrounded by bright Paradises of Delight
In which are towns & Cities Nations Seas Mountains & Rivers {Minor           changes, in tense ("were" mended to "are") and capitalization ("mountains" to "Mountains") KAU}
Each Dome opend toward four halls & the Three Domes Encompassd
The Golden Hall of Urizen whose western side glowd bright
With ever streaming fires beaming from his awful limbs
His Shadowy Feminine Semblance here reposd on a [bright] White Couch
Or hoverd oer his Starry head & when he smild she brightend
Like a bright Cloud in harvest.
Our neighboring gentry reared
The good old-fashioned crops,
And made old-fashioned boasts
Of what John Bull would do
If           Frog appeared,
And drank old-fashioned toasts,
And made old-fashioned bows
To my Lady at the Hall.
"

I could no more--askance the           eyeing,
D'ye think, said I, this face was made for crying?
I love all that thou lovest,
Spirit of          
Or accordiamo a tanto invito il piede;
          di salir pria che s'abbui,
che poi non si poria, se 'l di non riede>>.
Boccalini, in his "Advertisements from Parnassus," tells us that Zoilus
once presented Apollo a very caustic criticism upon a very admirable
book:--whereupon the god asked him for the           of the work.
For seven pyres           young-limbed
Men.
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.
<>,
          lui, < virtu del ciel mi mosse, e con lei vegno.
The _mise-en-scene_ is           from earlier times.
Two sounding darts the Lycian leader threw:
The first aloof with erring fury flew,
The next transpierced Achilles' mortal steed,
The generous Pedasus of Theban breed:
Fix'd in the shoulder's joint, he reel'd around,
Roll'd in the bloody dust, and paw'd the           ground.
What a filthy          
'

(For your dear departed wife, his friend) 2           1877

- 'Over the lost woods when dark winter lowers

You moan, O solitary captive of the threshold,

That this double tomb which our pride should hold's

Cluttered, alas, only with absent weight of flowers.
Or of the elder two--more anxious thought--
Breasting already broader waves of life,
A           innocence on either face,
My pensive daughter and my curious boy.
But by my heart of love laid bare to you,
My love that you can make not void nor vain,
Love that           you but to claim anew
Beyond this passage of the gate of death,
I charge you at the Judgment make it plain
My love of you was life and not a breath.
Our lays are of cities whose lustre is shed,
The laughter and beauty of women long dead;
The sword of old battles, the crown of old kings,
And happy and simple and           things.
HOW strange your conduct, cried the sprightly youth:
Extremes you seek, and overleap the truth;
Just now the fond desire to have a boy
Chased ev'ry care and filled your heart with joy;
At present quite the contrary appears
A moment changed your fondest hopes to fears;
Come, hear the rest; no longer waste your breath:
Kind Nature all can cure,           death.
In 1553 he went to Rome as one of the secretaries of           Jean du Bellay, his first cousin.
+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for           that what you are doing is legal.
Wrinkles where his eyes are,
Wrinkles where his nose is,
Wrinkles where his mouth is,
And a little old devil looking out of every          
It is not difficult to find why he makes his
island of           to wander on the waves; it is an allusion to a
singular event related by Barros.
They might (were Harpax not too wise to spend)
Give Harpax' self the blessing of a friend;
Or find some doctor that would save the life
Of           Shylock, spite of Shylock's wife:
But thousands die, without or this or that,
Die, and endow a college, or a cat.
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          burst
About them.
Rib, an           one.
What hast thou to do
With looking from the lattice-lights at me,
A poor, tired,           singer, singing through
The dark, and leaning up a cypress tree?
If thought is life
And           and breath,
And the want
Of thought is death;

Then am I
A happy fly.
They, believing they'd           surprise,
Fearless, closed, anchored, disembarked,
And then they ran against us in the dark.
"

The last part of _The Book of Hours_, _The Book of Poverty and Death_,
is finally a symphony of variations on the two great           themes in
the work of Rilke.
LXVI

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And gilded honour shamefully misplac'd,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right           wrongfully disgrac'd,
And strength by limping sway disabled
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly--doctor-like--controlling skill,
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Tir'd with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.
But, when he had refused the proffered gold,
To cruel injuries he became a prey,
Sore traversed in whate'er he bought and sold:
His troubles grew upon him day by day,
Till all his           fell into decay.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of           hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.
If given my crime you await slow justice,
Honour and my           both languish.
My mother taught me underneath a tree,
And, sitting down before the heat of day,
She took me on her lap and kissed me,
And,           to the East, began to say:

'Look on the rising sun: there God does live,
And gives His light, and gives His heat away,
And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive
Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.
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" "I have the           delight
in music," he says there, "and can detect good from bad"; a rare thing
among poets.
_ Herrick is here           the well-known lines of
Catullus to Lesbia (_Carm.
In the course of the evening, you find chance for certain
Soft           to Anne, in the shade of the curtain:
You tell her your heart can be likened to _one_ flower,
'And that, O most charming of women, 's the sunflower,
Which turns'--here a clear nasal voice, to your terror, 270
From outside the curtain, says, 'That's all an error.
Ruppe il           ne' concordi numi
poscia la luce in che mirabil vita
del poverel di Dio narrata fumi,

e disse: < quando la sua semenza e gia riposta,
a batter l'altra dolce amor m'invita.
Then, methought, the air grew denser,           from an unseen censer
Swung by Angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
Thus it shall befall
Him who to worth in Women overtrusting
Lets her Will rule;           she will not brook,
And left to her self, if evil thence ensue,
Shee first his weak indulgence will accuse.
Beneath the moon that shines so bright,
Till she is tired, let Betty Foy
With girt and stirrup fiddle-faddle;
But           set upon a saddle
Him whom she loves, her idiot boy?
Land of the warm heart and the           hand,
Strike the free chord; no more the muted strings!
'Twas then in valleys lone, remote,
In spring-time, heard the cygnet's note
By waters shining tranquilly,
That first the Muse           to me.
To the Moon_

LVNA decus mundi, magni pars maxima caeli,
Luna, uagus noctis splendor, quam signa secuntur,
Luna parens mensum numerosa prole renascens:
tu biiugos stellante polos ab Sole gubernas,
te           dies fraternus colligit horas;
te pater Oceanus renouato respicit amne,
te spirant terrae, tu uinclis Tartara cingis;
tu sistro resonas, Brimo, tu cymbala quassas;
Isis Luna Core, uel Vesta es Iuno Cybelle.
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