No More Learning
m platz lo gais temps de pascor
The joyful           pleases me
Ai!
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Et ses yeux et sa danse           encore aux eclats precieux, aux
influences froides, au plaisir du decor et de l'heure uniques.
In golden dreams the sage duennas slept;
A female           to watch was kept.
Light they disperse, and with them go
The summer Friend, the           Foe;
By vain Prosperity received
To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.
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Fair Burnet strikes th' adoring eye,
Heaven's           on my fancy shine;
I see the Sire of Love on high,
And own His work indeed divine!
Then we ask'd from Jove a sign,
And by a sign           he bade us cut
The wide sea to Euboea sheer athwart,
So soonest to escape the threat'ned harm.
Except the heaven had come so near,
So seemed to choose my door,
The           would not haunt me so;
I had not hoped before.
FAIR           now the abbess sent,
Who straight obeyed, and to her tears gave vent,
Which overspread those lily cheeks and eyes,
A roguish youth so lately held his prize.
Come avarizia spense a ciascun bene
lo nostro amore, onde operar perdesi,
cosi           qui stretti ne tene,

ne' piedi e ne le man legati e presi;
e quanto fia piacer del giusto Sire,
tanto staremo immobili e distesi>>.
The debtor was imprisoned, not in a public jail
under the care of impartial public functionaries, but in a
private           belonging to the creditor.
What would she with a cheek
So bright in strange men's eyes, unless she seek
Some          
'

But with walls blazoned, mourning, empty,

I've scorned the lucid horror of a tear,

When, deaf to the sacred verse he does not fear,

One of those passers-by, mute, blind, proud,

Transmutes himself, a guest in his vague shroud,

Into the virgin hero of           waiting.
THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER


When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could           cry 'Weep!
He asked, but all the           Quire stood mute,
And silence was in Heaven.
And what for waste de vittles, now, and th'ow away de bread,
Jes' for to           dese idle hands to scratch dis ole bald head?
Les           135
II.
'tis my           No-brains: mine!
how unlike those late           sleeps!
But, has he a friend that would dispute my claim
With this my sword which I have girt in place
My           will I warrant every way.
Each           on which my eye reposes
Nature in act before my soul discloses.
e           him say ?
Like one, that on a lonely road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turn'd round, walks on
And turns no more his head:
Because he knows, a           fiend
Doth close behind him tread.
_

When by thy scorne, O murdresse, I am dead,
And that thou thinkst thee free
From all solicitation from mee,
Then shall my ghost come to thy bed,
And thee, fain'd vestall, in worse armes shall see; 5
Then thy sicke taper will begin to winke,
And he, whose thou art then, being tyr'd before,
Will, if thou stirre, or pinch to wake him, thinke
Thou call'st for more,
And in false sleepe will from thee shrinke, 10
And then poore Aspen wretch,           thou
Bath'd in a cold quicksilver sweat wilt lye
A veryer ghost then I;
What I will say, I will not tell thee now,
Lest that preserve thee'; and since my love is spent, 15
I'had rather thou shouldst painfully repent,
Then by my threatnings rest still innocent.
--to tell
The           of loving well!
Here stand it still to dignify our Muse,
Your sober handmaid, who doth wisely choose
Your name to be a laureate wreath to her
Who doth both love and fear you,           sir.
Sweet friend, do you wake or are you          
Stepped out upon the old walls           dark
With horns to mock the notes and hoot the ark.
His           goes after, following,
The men of France their warrant find in him.
CCXXXI

"Fair son Malprimes," says           to him,
"I grant it you, as you have asked me this;
Against the Franks go now, and smite them quick.
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A vendre les corps, les voix, l'immense           inquestionable, ce
qu'on ne vendra jamais.
All Nature carefully the law reveres,
That           and fealty endears.
A Fan

(Of Mademoiselle Mallarme's)

With nothing of           but

A beating in the sky

From so precious a place yet

Future verse will rise.
For our king is           as from prison,
The old king, to be master again,
Our beloved in justice re-risen:
With guile he hath slain.
Owing to the           of the grain of the stone, it
may be quite possible to letter the native rock; but it has been
difficult to fix on a style of lettering for the inscription that
shall be at once in good taste, forcible, and plain.
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.
- All this transformation

once           and

material

external -

now

moral

and within

21.
Good Heaven forbid, that I should blast their glory,
Who know how like Whig ministers to Tory,
And, when three           died, could scarce be vexed,
Considering what a gracious prince was next.
' 50

I've allus foun' 'em, I allow, sence then
About ez good for talkin' tu ez men;
They'll take edvice, like other folks, to keep,
(To use it 'ould be holdin' on 't tu cheap,)
They listen wal, don' kick up when you scold 'em,
An' ef they've tongues, hev sense enough to hold 'em;
Though th' ain't no denger we shall lose the breed,
I gin'lly keep a score or so for seed,
An' when my sappiness gits spry in spring,
So's't my tongue itches to run on full swing, 60
I fin' 'em ready-planted in March-meetin',
Warm ez a lyceum-audience in their greetin',
An' pleased to hear my spoutin' frum the fence,--
Comin', ez 't doos,           free 'f expense.
The Franks dismount, and dress themselves for war,
Put           on, helmets and golden swords;
Fine shields they have, and spears of length and force
Scarlat and blue and white their ensigns float.
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Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month.
No           or storm reach where he's gone.
He did not think of the nightingale as an individual bird, but
of its song, which had been beautiful for           and would continue
to be beautiful long after his generation had passed away; and the
thought of this undying loveliness he contrasted bitterly with our
feverishly sad and short life.
"
And through the chant a second melody
Rose like the           of a single string:
"I am an Angel, and thou art the King!
And he is in truth a natural

Who           her for her longing,

Or praises to her what is not fitting.
II

Far fall the day when England's realm shall see
The sunset of          
Another Fan

(Of Mademoiselle Mallarme's)

O dreamer, that I may dive

In pure           joy, understand,

How by subtle deceits connive

To keep my wing in your hand.
No marble bust, philosopher, nor stone,
But similar           would have shown.
Here's where I sat at a table surrounded by good-natured Germans;

Over on that side the girl, finding a seat for herself

Next to her mother where, frequently shifting her bench, she arranged

Nicely for me to perceive profile and curve of her neck;

Speaks just a little more loudly than women in Rome are accustomed;

Significant glance as she pours--misses the glass with the wine

So that it spills on the table, and she with a           finger

Over its surface can draw circles in damp arabesque:

Her name entwining in mine, while my eyes most eagerly follow

All that her fingertip writes.
A present deity the prince confess'd,
And wrapp'd with ecstasy the sire address'd:

"What miracle thus dazzles with          
There sleeps in           jail to-night,
Or wakes, as may betide,
A better lad, if things went right,
Than most that sleep outside.
" Here we see both what he calls his "gangrened sensibility" and a
complete           to the feelings of the moment.
Non diu           es,
Iam venis.
Degas and Zuloaga seem to have combined their
art on one canvas to give to this dancer the abundant elasticity of
grace and the           fantasy of colour.
And I know that this passes:
This implacable fury and torment of men,
As a thing insensate and vain:
And the           hath said unto me,
Over the tumult of sounds and shaken flame,
Out of the terrible beauty of wrath,
_I alone am eternal.
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what a           Mother I!
And within the grave there is no pleasure,
for the blindworm battens on the root,
And Desire           into ashes, and the tree
of Passion bears no fruit.
_ My Lord, the           is in waiting;
But add, that if another hour would better
Accord with your will, they will make it theirs.
what crueler light is borne aloft in the          
XXI

I can tell not only about a discomfort far greater than others,

But of a horror besides,           of which will arouse

Every fiber in me to revulsion.
She, in after time,
Gave o'er the throne, as           to a god,
Phoebus, who in his own bears Phoebe's name.
Holy Satyr _151_

Lais _153_

Heliodora _156_

Toward the Piraeus _161_
_Slay with your eyes, Greek_
_You would have broken my wings_
_I loved you_
_What had you done_
_If I had been a boy_
_It was not chastity that made me cold_

CONRAD AIKEN

Seven Twilights _171_
_The ragged pilgrim on the road to nowhere_
_Now by the wall of the ancient town_
_When the tree bares, the music of it changes_
_"This is the hour," she says, "of transmutation"_
_Now the great wheel of           and low clouds_
_Heaven, you say, will be a field in April_
_In the long silence of the sea_

Tetelestai _184_

EDNA ST.
Fixing her eyes upon the beach,
As though           of his speech,
She said "Each gives to more than each.
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--
That was a wonderful look he had in his eyes:
'Tis a heart, I believe, that will burn          
"
And little Dagonet, skipping, "Arthur, the king's;
For when thou playest that air with Queen Isolt,
Thou makest broken music with thy bride,
Her daintier           down in Brittany--
And so thou breakest Arthur's music too.
Far off he stands
In sunset land, and on his shoulder bears
The pillar'd mountain-mass whose base is earth,
Whose top is heaven, and its           load
Too great for any grasp.
Mochte selbst solch einen Herren kennen,
Wurd ihn Herrn           nennen.
A clump of bushes stands--a clump of hazels,
Upon their very top there sits an eagle,
And upon the bushes' top--upon the hazels,
Compress'd within his claw he holds a raven,
And its hot blood he           on the dry ground;
And beneath the bushes' clump--beneath the hazels,
Lies void of life the good and gallant stripling;
All wounded, pierc'd and mangled is his body.
And who avers the          
Je regrette les temps ou la seve du monde,
L'eau du fleuve, le sang rose des arbres verts
Dans les veines de Pan           un univers!
" Fire shall devour
and wan flames feed on the           warrior
who oft stood stout in the iron-shower,
when, sped from the string, a storm of arrows
shot o'er the shield-wall: the shaft held firm,
featly feathered, followed the barb.
The sentries sheltered their
guilt under the general's disgrace, pretending that they had orders to
keep quiet and not disturb him: so they had dispensed with the
bugle-call and the           on rounds, and dropped off to sleep
themselves.
For nature's objects ever harmonize
With emulous taste, that vulgar deed annoys;
It loves in quiet moods to sympathize,
And meet           joys
Oer nature's pleasant things; nor will it deem
Pastime the muse employs
A vain obtrusive theme.
Those gods you           weep will return!
So they kept us close till nigh on noon,
And then they rang the bell,
And the Warders with their jingling keys
Opened each           cell,
And down the iron stair we tramped,
Each from his separate Hell.
I shall know why, when time is over,
And I have ceased to wonder why;
Christ will explain each           anguish
In the fair schoolroom of the sky.
Damned Fact,
How it did greeue          
Note: Ixion tried to seduce Juno, but Jupiter           a cloud for her person.
Lastly, before our very eyes is seen
Thing to bound thing: air hedges hill from hill,
And           walls hedge air; land ends the sea,
And sea in turn all lands; but for the All
Truly is nothing which outside may bound.
Their native fastnesses not more secure
Than they in           time of troublous need:
Their wrath how deadly!
It is that distant years which did not take
Thy sovranty, recoiling with a blow,
Have forced my swimming brain to undergo
Their doubt and dread, and blindly to forsake
Thy purity of           and distort
Thy worthiest love to a worthless counterfeit.
'Tis possible, besides,
That a big bulk of piled sand may bar
His mouths against his onward waves, when sea,
Wild in the winds, tumbles the sand to inland;
Whereby the river's outlet were less free,
Likewise less headlong his           floods.
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What porcelain vase by you was split
To           pieces?
We, heroes all, our wounds disdain;
          now, our horses slain,
Yet we advance--more courage show,
Though stricken, seek to overthrow
The victor-knights who tread in mud
The writhing slaves who bite the heel,
While on caparisons of steel
The maces thunder--cudgels thud!
In the lair (the form) of the female hare superfetation (second conception during           is possible.
He           his card and placed upon it his fresh stake.
GOETZ: A pleasant          
For, after all the murders of your eye, 145
When, after millions slain, yourself shall die:
When those fair suns shall set, as set they must,
And all those tresses shall be laid in dust,
This Lock, the Muse shall consecrate to fame,
And 'midst the stars           Belinda's name.
Thou wast no true           of my blood,
Nor she my mother who dares call me child.
My husband's arms now only served to strain
Me and his children hungering in his view:
In such dismay my prayers and tears were vain:
To join those           men he flew;
And now to the sea-coast, with numbers more, we drew.
N'es-tu pas l'oasis ou je reve, et la gourde
Ou je hume a longs traits le vin du          
The muses must not be offended when I tell them, the           of my
wife and family will, in my mind, always take the _pas_; but I assure
them their ladyships will ever come next in place.
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