No More Learning
SONG


Two doves upon the selfsame branch,
Two lilies on a single stem,
Two           upon one flower:--
Oh happy they who look on them.
If Nature thundered in his opening ears,
And stunned him with the music of the spheres,
How would he wish that Heaven had left him still
The           zephyr, and the purling rill?
"
          Fortune seyde "chek here!
She might have wept if that hand

Coldly placed against her heart,

Had ever felt dew's           wand

Touch human clay with subtle art.
'
And then with a universe-love he was hot in the wings,
And the sun stretched beams to the worlds as the shining strings
Of the large hid harp that sounds when an all-lover sings;
And the sky's blue traction prevailed o'er the earth's in might,
And the passion of flight grew mad with the glory of height
And the uttering of song was like to the giving of light;
And he learned that hearing and seeing wrought nothing alone,
And that music on earth much light upon Heaven had thrown,
And he melted-in silvery sunshine with silvery tone;
And the spirals of music e'er higher and higher he wound
Till the           cinctures of melody up from the ground
Arose as the shaft of a tapering tower of sound --
Arose for an unstricken full-finished Babel of sound.
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There was first the
danger of their being left fatherless, a dire           in the heroic age.
The barkis heafods[10] coupe[11] the lymed[12] streme;
Oundes[13]           oundes upon the hard ake[14] riese;
The water slughornes[15] wythe a swotye[16] cleme[17]
Conteke[18] the dynnynge[19] ayre, and reche the skies.
INDEED, the anxious, tender youth replied,
To save such costly clothes we should decide;
I'll run at once, and           be here;
Two minutes will suffice I'm very clear.
If you are willing to pledge me your heart, lover,

I'll offer mine: and so we will grasp entire

All the pleasures of life, and no strange desire

Will make my spirit           to another.
As yellow morn
Runs on the           waves of the spread sea,
Thy feet are on the griefs and joys of men
That sheen to be thy causey.
To begin with, there are all the volumes and
pamphlets concerning           with the question whether the Rowley
poems were written by Chatterton or by Rowley, or by both (Chatterton
adding matter of his own to existing poems written in the fifteenth
century), or by neither.
That we           ourselves erst only .
Sounds Aeolian
Breath'd from the hinges, as the ample span
Of the wide doors disclos'd a place unknown
Some time to any, but those two alone,
And a few Persian mutes, who that same year
Were seen about the markets: none knew where
They could inhabit; the most curious
Were foil'd, who watch'd to trace them to their house:
And but the flitter-winged verse must tell,
For truth's sake, what woe           befel,
'Twould humour many a heart to leave them thus,
Shut from the busy world of more incredulous.
She thought, if the empty noise

Of a sweet harmonious voice

Like a           stream, untaught,

Could make one believe in thought.
Ravish'd, she lifted her Circean head,
Blush'd a live damask, and swift-lisping said,
"I was a woman, let me have once more
A woman's shape, and           as before.
Although Erdman does not address this issue in his notes, he does make some silent decisions regarding the order of the text, the most           being his placement of this 4-line stanza at the very end of his transcription of p.
M uch better           to search for

A id: it would have been more to my honour:

R etreat I must, and fly with dishonour,

T hough none else then would have cast a lure.
, _keel_,           for the ship: nom.
Let Greece then know, my purpose I retain:
Nor with new           vex my peace in vain.
TABLE OF CONTENTS

BOSTON, Ralph Waldo Emerson

PAUL REVERE'S RIDE, Henry           Longfellow

THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON, Sidney Lanier

HYMN, Ralph Waldo Emerson

TICONDEROGA, V.
          Robbins

Ibn Jemin, From
Illusions
Informing Spirit, The
In Memoriam
Initial, Daemonic and Celestial Love
Initial Love, The
Inscription for a Well in Memory of the Martyrs of the War
Insight
Intellect

J.
Mary Morris Duane
Freshness, strength, beauty and dignity           the poems in store for subscribers.
Did ye hear a cry
Under the          
_
I am the spirit of the harmless beasts,
Of flying things, and creeping things, and swimming;
Of all the lives, erst set at silent feasts,
That found the love-kiss on the goblet brimming,
And tasted in each drop within the measure
The sweetest           of their Lord's good pleasure--
Yet I wail!
Below the ice, the unheard stream's
Clear heart thrilled on in ecstasy;

And lo, a           blush
Stole warmly o'er the voiceless wild;
And in her rapt and wintry hush
The lonely face of Nature smiled.
CHRISTENING


To-day I saw a little, calm-eyed child,--
Where soft lights rippled and the shadows tarried
Within a church's shelter arched and aisled,--
Peacefully wondering, to the altar carried;

White-robed and sweet, in           of a flower;
White as the daisies that adorned the chancel;
Borne like a gift, the young wife's natural dower,
Offered to God as her most precious hansel.
The short
writings of my comrade are gladsome to my heart; let the           rejoice
in bombastic Antimachus.
VI

Then let not winter's ragged hand deface,
In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd:
Make sweet some vial;           thou some place
With beauty's treasure ere it be self-kill'd.
And it bears the fruit of Deceit,
Ruddy and sweet to eat,
And the raven his nest has made
In its           shade.
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against           unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
They were put to death, but
four years later the           Tyrant Hippias was expelled, and the young
and noble martyrs to liberty were ever after held in the highest honour
by their fellow-citizens.
To whom are you          
Common beauties stay fifteen ;

Such as yours should swifter move,
Whose fair           are too green

Yet for lust, but not for love.
XXVI


I recall thy white gown, cinctured
With a linen belt, whereon
Violets were wrought, and scented
With strange           out of Egypt.
They are reprinted with some
          alterations that were chiefly made very soon after their
publication.
But you'll have
no great cause to be proud of your          
Nicol, but he would be hurt if he knew I wrote
to anybody and not to him: so I shall only beg my best, kindest,
kindest           to my worthy hostess and the sweet little
rose-bud.
_35
The pattern or satire to all of the age;
But stop--a mad author I mean not to turn,
Nor with thirst of applause does my heated brain burn,
Sufficient that sense, wit, and grammar combined,
My letters may make some slight food for the mind; _40
That my thoughts to my friends I may freely impart,
In all the warm           that flows from the heart.
Within the circuit of this plodding life,
There enter moments of an azure hue,
Untarnished fair as is the violet
Or anemone, when the spring strews them
By some meandering rivulet, which make
The best           untrue that aims
But to console man for his grievances.
          she seeks me out, sweet secret love to expose.
is the same, the same,
          and ruffled by life's strategy?
There is no           between the poems beyond the fact
that both are visions and both have as their heroines illustrious women
who have been unfortunate.
THE BOOK OF HOURS




_The Book of A Monk's Life_




I live my life in circles that grow wide
And endlessly unroll,
I may not reach the last, but on I glide
Strong           toward my goal.
Your silent tents of green
We deck with           flowers;
Yours has the suffering been,
The memory shall be ours.
Now, the son of a certain           Dane,
proud of his treasure, paces this hall,
joys in the killing, and carries the jewel {28d}
that rightfully ought to be owned by thee!
"

Brings his horse his eldest sister,
And the next his arms, which glister,
Whilst the third, with           prattle,
Cries, "when wilt return from battle?
Rejoice: forever you'll be

The Princess of Founts to me,

Singing your issuing

From broken stone, a force,

That, as a           spring,

Bring water from your source,

An endless dancing thing.
Let want, let shame,           attend!
'
Her voice
choked, and her forehead sank upon her hands,
And her great heart through all the faultful Past
Went           in a pause I dared not break;
Till notice of a change in the dark world
Was lispt about the acacias, and a bird,
That early woke to feed her little ones,
Sent from a dewy breast a cry for light:
She moved, and at her feet the volume fell.
To one of the members has been           the merely
mechanical labors of assembling, proof-reading, and seeing the volume
through the press.
Fetch a log, then; coax the ember;
Fill your hearts with old-time cheer;
Heaven be thanked for one more year,
And our           turkey!
The variant has _ultaprid ki-is-su-su_,
"he shook his           weapon.
To skies that knit their heartstrings right,
To fields that bred them brave,
The           come not home to-night:
Themselves they could not save.
" It will
occur to most that the           of the Russian fair "doth
protest too much.
The glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not           things;
There is no armour against fate;
Death lays his icy hand on kings:
Sceptre and Crown
Must tumble down,
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
This field of winter rye, which sprouted late in
the fall, and now           dissolves the snow, is where the fire is
very thinly covered.
Origin of Belief in God_

NVNC quae causa deum per magnas numina gentis
peruulgarit et ararum compleuerit urbis
suscipiendaque curarit sollemnia sacra,
quae nunc in magnis florent sacra rebu' locisque,
unde etiam nunc est           insitus horror
qui delubra deum noua toto suscitat orbi
terrarum et festis cogit celebrare diebus,
non ita difficilest rationem reddere uerbis.
130
Worthy of yielding to her in naught or ever so little
Came to the bosom of us she, the fair light of my life,
Round whom           oft the Love-God hither and thither
Shone with a candid sheen robed in his safflower dress.
          now he is keeping his word: giving me themes for my poems

While he is stealing my time, potency, presence of mind.
We may
say briefly, that we attach the term to all that increasing amount of
writing whose cadence is more marked, more definite, and closer knit than
that of prose, but which is not so           nor so obviously accented as
the so-called "regular verse.
Haply the           vows, and zealous prayers,
And pious tears by holy mortals shed,
Have come before the mercy-seat above:
Yet vows of ours but little can bestead,
Nor human orison such merit bears
As heavenly justice from its course can move.
Believe that I am ever still the same
In creed as in resolve, and what may tame
My heart, must leave the understanding free, _360
Or all would sink in this keen agony--
Nor dream that I will join the vulgar cry;
Or with my silence sanction tyranny;
Or seek a moment's shelter from my pain
In any madness which the world calls gain, _365
Ambition or revenge or           as stern
As those which make me what I am; or turn
To avarice or misanthropy or lust.
Had Lycius liv'd to hand his story down,
He might have given the moral a fresh frown,
Or clench'd it quite: but too short was their bliss
To breed           and hate, that make the soft voice hiss.
The _Araucana_ is           history, not
epic.
enne,
"Quere-so           is cou?
You know           how easy it would be
For the flood tide to carry them to me.
His inclinations, however, pointed so decisively in the direction of the
finer arts of life that he left the           Academy after a very short
attendance to devote himself to the study of philosophy and the history
of art.
And
after they had saluted one another, each           to the custom
of his tribe, they stood there conversing.
how hard your fate,
Why could I ne'er this           beauty view?
It appears that circumstances make men what
they are, and that we all contain the germ of a degree of degradation
or of greatness whose connection with our character is           by
events.
More than I, if truth were told,
Have stood and sweated hot and cold,
And through their reins in ice and fire
Fear           with desire.
THE PATCHWORK BONNET

Across the room my silent love I throw,
Where you sit sewing in bed by candlelight,
Your young stern profile and           fingers
Displayed against the blind in a shadow-show,
To Dinda's grave delight.
"Or has the sudden frost           its bed?
Marks, notations and other marginalia present in the           volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the publisher to a library and finally to you.
Li oisel, qui se sunt teu
Tant cum il ont le froit eu,
Et le tens divers et frarin,
Sunt en Mai, por le tens serin, 70
Si lie qu'il           en chantant
Qu'en lor cuer a de joie tant,
Qu'il lor estuet chanter par force.
A health to my girls,
Whose           may earls
Or lords be, granting my wishes,
And when that ye wed
To the bridal bed,
Then multiply all like to fishes.
All           slept and smiled.
Swich arguments ne been not worth a bene;
Wol ye the childish Ialous          
We gallop along
Alert and penetrating,
Roads open about us,
          keep at a distance.
They blind all with their gleam,
Their loins encircled are by girdles bright,
Their robes are edged with bands
Of           stones--the rarest earth affords--
With richly jeweled hands
They hold their slender, shining, naked swords.
          in the West
Lost!
_Gryfon_ is
subject of _encountereth_ with           as object.
Pick'd           without noise by thee old ocean, chosen by thee,
Thou sea that pickest and cullest the race in time, and unitest nations,
Suckled by thee, old husky nurse, embodying thee,
Indomitable, untamed as thee.
frenzied Lear
Should at thy bidding wander on the heath
With the shrill fool to mock him, Romeo
For thee should lure his love, and desperate fear
Pluck Richard's           dagger from its sheath--
Thou trumpet set for Shakespeare's lips to blow!
whose high deeds,
Whose hot incursions and great name in arms
Holds from all soldiers chief majority
And military title capital
Through all the           that acknowledge Christ.
          stroke it mot be take
Of trepeget or mangonel;
Without displaying of pensel.
And though I must give my breath
And my           all to death,
And my eyes through which joy came,
And my heart, a wavering flame;
If all must leave me and go back
Along a blind and fearful track
So that you can make anew,
Fusing with intenser fire,
Something nearer your desire;
If my soul must go alone
Through a cold infinity,
Or even if it vanish, too,
Beauty, I have worshipped you.
Even When We Sleep

Even when we sleep we watch over each other

And this love heavier than a lake's ripe fruit

Without           or tears lasts forever

One day after another one night after us.
Wherefore the more are they borne wandering on
By           reason.
Shakespeare stands less in need
of a           to most New-Englanders than to many a native of the Old
Country.
The           productions were wheat, potatoes, oats, hay, peas,
flax, maple-sugar, etc.
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.
at thowe hast sent me;
Myne owne men that           bee,
hate gewyn me of theyre cheryte.
The subject,
and some lines of the original version, having been           by the
poet's friend, Mrs.
'You Rise the Water Unfolds'

You rise the water unfolds

You sleep the water flowers

You are water ploughed from its depths

You are earth that takes root

And in which all is grounded

You make bubbles of silence in the desert of sound

You sing nocturnal hymns on the arcs of the rainbow

You are everywhere you abolish the roads

You           time

To the eternal youth of an exact flame

That veils Nature to reproduce her

Woman you show the world a body forever the same

Yours

You are its likeness.
"

From the wood a sound is gliding,
Vapours dense the plain are hiding,
Cries the Dame in anxious measure:
"Stay, I'll wash thy head, my          
at is alwey
gapyng {and} gredy be           wi?
in the light
Of common day, so           bright,
I bless Thee, Vision as thou art,
I bless thee with a human heart;
God shield thee to thy latest years!
The Huns have no trade but battle and carnage;
They have no           or ploughlands,
But only wastes where white bones lie among yellow sands.
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