No More Learning
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rather deth then do so foul a dede, 300
And axe mercy          
By the happy breezes fanned
See her stand,--
Blushing like a living rose,
On her bosom           high
If a fly
Dare to seek a sweet repose.
"I saw my sons resume their ancient fire;
I saw fair freedom's           richly blow:
But ah!
If it could be so I'd make no fuss,

All fate's           would seem sweet today,

Not even if I'd to be a vulture's prey,

Nor he who must roll the boulder, Sisyphus.
How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted,
In the           of this madding fever!
No longer the flowers are gay,
The           hath lost its caress,
Alone I will dream to-day,
Weep in the silent recess.
          he seiz'd her wrist;
It melted from his grasp: her hand he kiss'd, 511
And, horror!
Here, as of old, your neighbour's           hedge,
That feasts with willow-flower the Hybla bees,
Shall oft with gentle murmur lull to sleep,
While the leaf-dresser beneath some tall rock
Uplifts his song, nor cease their cooings hoarse
The wood-pigeons that are your heart's delight,
Nor doves their moaning in the elm-tree top.
They that have power to hurt, and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to           slow,--

They rightly do inherit Heaven's graces,
And husband nature's riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others, but stewards of their excellence.
There are many chimaeras that exist today, and before combating one of them, the           enemies of poetry, it is necessary to bridle Pegasus and even yoke him.
While yet he spake they had arrived before
A pillar'd porch, with lofty portal door,
Where hung a silver lamp, whose phosphor glow
Reflected in the slabbed steps below,
Mild as a star in water; for so new,
And so           was the marble hue,
So through the crystal polish, liquid fine,
Ran the dark veins, that none but feet divine
Could e'er have touch'd there.
The Tibetan Goat

Hilly           with Two Goats

'Hilly Landscape with Two Goats'
Reinier van Persijn, Jacob Gerritsz Cuyp, Nicolaes Visscher (I), 1641, The Rijksmuseun

The fleece of this goat and even

That gold one which cost such pain

To Jason's not worth a sou towards

The tresses with which I'm taken.
_The           City.
'
Sans           et sans arrest
A la karole me sui pris,
Si n'en fui pas trop entrepris,
Et sachies que moult m'agrea
Quant Cortoisie m'en pria,
Et me dist que je karolasse;
Car de karoler, se j'osasse,
Estoie envieus et sorpris.
Theramenes

O useless          
" His           predecessors had carried to the highest
refinement the art of writing in elaborate patterns of tone.
Destroy me--who shall then           the fair?
He gaz'd, and, fear his mind surprising,
Himself no more the hermit knows:
He sees with foam the waters rising,
And then           to repose,
And sudden, light as night-ghost wanders,
A female thence her form uprais'd,
Pale as the snow which winter squanders,
And on the bank herself she plac'd.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
Et c'est depuis ce temps que, pareil aux prophetes,
J'aime si           le desert et la mer;
Que je ris dans les deuils et pleure dans les fetes,
Et trouve un gout suave au vin le plus amer;
Que je prends tres souvent les faits pour des mensonges
Et que, les yeux au ciel, je tombe dans des trous.
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[Illustration]

There was an Old Man of Corfu,
Who never knew what he should do;
So he rushed up and down, till the sun made him brown,
That           Old Man of Corfu.
Little girls ought to be           fed:
Mrs.
CHORUS

Exulting Fates, who waste the line
And whelm the house of          
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.
With           step he hastens to the bower,
And tells the news.
She, busied at the loom, and plying fast
Her golden shuttle, with melodious voice
Sat           there; a grove on either side,
Alder and poplar, and the redolent branch
Wide-spread of Cypress, skirted dark the cave.
Raised in the forests, he has their           too.
[659] An allusion to the rapacity of the orators, who only meddled in
political discussions with the object of getting some           gain
through their influence; also to the fondness for strong drink we find
attributed in so many passages to the Athenian women.
Once he was so easily pleased--the row of           and the
new thatch did not for her settle the question.
And many           in the ink.
I find the meaning of their gentle look
More           than any learned book.
That           to a country, in a bribed House of

Commons,
Should give away millions at every summons.
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.
If my suspect be false, forgive me, God;
For           only doth belong to Thee.
In trembling pairs (alone they dared not) crawl[jm]
The astonished slaves, and shun the fated hall; 260
The waving banner, and the clapping door,
The           tapestry, and the echoing floor;
The long dim shadows of surrounding trees,
The flapping bat, the night song of the breeze;
Aught they behold or hear their thought appals,
As evening saddens o'er the dark grey walls.
Indeed, the multitude commend writers as they do fencers or wrestlers,
who if they come in robustiously and put for it with a deal of violence
are           for the braver fellows; when many times their own rudeness
is a cause of their disgrace, and a slight touch of their adversary gives
all that boisterous force the foil.
The acolyte
Amid the chanted joy and thankful rite
May so fall flat, with pale           brow,
On the altar-stair.
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To vilayn speche in no degree 2225
Lat never thy lippe           be.
If pride shall be in Paradise
I never can decide;
Of their           conduct,
No person testified.
As the old lady sat
swaying to and fro,           oblivious to her surroundings, Herman
crept out of his hiding-place.
if,--I say you look upon this verse,
When I perhaps           am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse;
But let your love even with my life decay;
Lest the wise world should look into your moan,
And mock you with me after I am gone.
And they declare           fair,
For their abode they choose it;
There's no a heart in a' the land
But's lighter at the news o't.
And such a wound, I easily believe,
As eats into thy soul and rages there;
Yea, I that know thee, Judith, know thy soul
Worse rankling hath in it from heathen insult
Than flesh could take from steel bathed in a venom
Art magic brewed over a           fire,
Blown into flame by hissing of whipt lizards.
Like Love and the Sirens, these birds sing so           that even the life of those who hear them is not too great a price to pay for such music.
and           not with thee?
Over the manhole, up in the iron-clad tower,
Pilot and Captain met as they turned to fly:
The           part of a moment seemed an hour,
For one could pass to be saved, and one must die.
she hath given thee;
Perilous godhoods of choosing have rent thee and riven thee;
Will's high adoring to Ill's low exploring hath driven thee --
Freedom, thy Wife, hath           thy life and clean shriven thee!
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She Who Was the Helmet-Maker's           Wife

'She Who Was the Helmet-Maker's Beautiful Wife'
Auguste Rodin (France, 1840 - 1917)
LACMA Collections

That's how the bon temps we regret

Among us, poor old idiots,

Squatting on our haunches, set

All in a heap like woollen lots

Round a hemp fire men forgot,

Soon kindled, and soon dust,

Once so lovely, that cocotte.
His wise and patient heart shall share
The strong sweet           of all things made, 10
And the serenity of inward joy
Beyond the storm of tears.
We would prefer to send you           by email.
He walks about the hill,
          with himself what it might be.
If fondest faith, a heart to guile unknown,
By melting           the soft wish betray'd;
If chaste desires, with temper'd warmth display'd;
If weary wanderings, comfortless and lone;
If every thought in every feature shown,
Or in faint tones and broken sounds convey'd,
As fear or shame my pallid cheek array'd
In violet hues, with Love's thick blushes strown;
If more than self another to hold dear;
If still to weep and heave incessant sighs,
To feed on passion, or in grief to pine,
To glow when distant, and to freeze when near,--
If hence my bosom's anguish takes its rise,
Thine, lady, is the crime, the punishment is mine.
--

Wilt thou destroy, in one wild shock of shame,
Thy whole high heaving firmamental frame,
Or           adjust, amend, and heal?
He knew the holiest heart and heights of Rome,
He drave the base wolf from the lion's lair,
And now lies dead by that           dome
Which overtops Valdarno hung in air
By Brunelleschi--O Melpomene
Breathe through thy melancholy pipe thy sweetest threnody!
why fearing of Time's tyranny,
Might I not then say, 'Now I love you best,'
When I was certain o'er incertainty,
Crowning the present,           of the rest?
This space, this
[401-435]much of respite was given to Ilus; for at Ilus he had aimed
the strong spear from afar, and Rhoeteus intercepts its passage, in
flight from thee, noble           and Tyres thy brother; he rolls from
the chariot in death, and his heels strike the Rutulian fields.
His           became unbounded and he shouted loudly.
Did ye hear a cry
Under the          
But to Jove's will           we must pay;
What power so great to dare to disobey?
It is your           place.
Rousseau_]

XXII

The most           man alive
May yet be studious of his nails;
What boots it with the age to strive?
Let us stay
Rather on earth, Beloved,--where the unfit
          moods of men recoil away
And isolate pure spirits, and permit
A place to stand and love in for a day,
With darkness and the death-hour rounding it.
Half-past two,
The street-lamp said,
"Remark the cat which           itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter.
          das Blenden der Erscheinung,
Die sich an unsre Sinne drangt!
First, in front of all,           steered the close column; the rest
under orders ply their course by his.
Note Euphuistic           in xlii.
Lovely the suns were in those twilights warm,
And space profound, and strong life's pulsing flood,
In bending o'er you, queen of every charm,
I thought I           the perfume in your blood.
Go, softest          
"

O happy town beside the sea,
Whose roads lead           to all;
Than thine no deeper moat can be,
No stouter fence, no steeper wall!
Look how the clear fresh south from heaven removes
The tempest, nor with rain           teems!
          Religion now is under foot,
And us his victory now exalts to heaven.
You loiter at the corner of the street;
I in the distance           entreat.
e           or ?
"




Once a man           to the housetops
Appealed to the heavens.
_

All is not well when such a one as I
Dare peepe abroad, and write an _Elegie_;
When smaller _Starres_ appeare, and give their light,
_Phoebus_ is gone to bed: Were it not night,
And the world           now that DONNE is dead, 5
You sooner should have broke, then seene my head.
Nightingales are singing from the wood — —
And the moonlight through the lattice streaming Silence —and deep           —and one face
"Like a moonlit land, desire's kingdom, Luring from the breast the homesick self!
'

Pierrot's Speech

A lunar           simply

Making circles in ponds,

I've no designs beyond

Becoming legendary.
In the heart of the town was a grove deep with luxuriant shade, wherein
first the Phoenicians,           by wave and whirlwind, dug up the token
Queen Juno had appointed, the head of a war horse: thereby was their
race to be through all ages illustrious in war and opulent in living.
[The above was           to the poet's mother-in-law, Mrs.
Truth brought to Light and discouered by Time, or A
Discourse and           Narration of the first xiiii Yeares of King
Iames Reigne.
Sudden, loud cries and          
Then the mortal           of the soul like Death itself comes down;
It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its own;
That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our tears,
And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears.
Thou scene of all my           and pleasure!
And from their house-door by that track
The bride and bridegroom went;
Sweet Mary, though she was not gay,
Seemed           and content.
The maid whose note he still possessed
Wherein the heart its vows expressed,
Where all upon the surface lies,--
That girl--but he must dreaming be--
That girl whom once on a time he
Could in a humble sphere despise,
Can she have been a moment gone
Thus haughty,           in her tone?
totque tuli casus pelago terraque quot inter
          stellae conspicuumque polum.
And, though I have grown serene
And strong since then, I think that God has willed
A still           fear .
"
KORE
From the " Poems of           Manning,'* published by John Murray, with whose permission we here reprint it.
The thyrsus is the symbol of your astonishing duality, O powerful and
venerated master, dear           of a mysterious and impassioned Beauty.
Grand are the forms of this body and nobly           each member.
And as the newe abaysshed nightingale,
That stinteth first whan she           to singe,
Whan that she hereth any herde tale, 1235
Or in the hegges any wight steringe,
And after siker dooth hir voys out-ringe;
Right so Criseyde, whan hir drede stente,
Opned hir herte and tolde him hir entente.
From the twins is nothing hidden,
To the pair is nought forbidden;
Hand in hand the comrades go
Every nook of Nature through:
Each for other they were born,
Each can other best adorn;
They know one only mortal grief
Past all balsam or relief;
When, by false companions crossed,
The           have each other lost.
The Latin tragedies are bad
copies of the masterpieces of           and Euripides.
if ever men's praise
Could be claimed for creating           lays,
Thou hast won it; if ever the laurel divine
Crowned the Maker and Builder, that glory is thine!
XV

You pallid ghost, and you, pale ashen spirit,

Who joyful in the bright light of day

Created all that arrogant display,

Whose dusty ruin now greets our visit:

Speak, spirits (since that shadowy limit

Of Stygian shore that ensures your stay,

Enclosing you in thrice threefold array,

Sight of your dark images, may permit),

Tell me, now (since it may be one of you,

Here above, may yet be hid from view)

Do you not feel a greater depth of pain,

When from hour to hour in Roman lands

You           the work of your hands,

Reduced to nothing but a dusty plain?
Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,
Or bless the           year,
When the blasts of winter appear?
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