English

And shall we view these miracles and more
Which mind and muscle never wrought before,
Without remembrance in these latter years,
Of those brave men, those hardy Pioneers,
Who led the way for Science, Art, and Law,
'Mid dangers their successors never saw,
And countless hardships that they never knew?
The famed and unfamed heroes tried and true,
Who crowded into months or days the deeds
Of years, and of young empire sowed the seeds?
Amid the mass there here and there appears
Some reverend head, majestic as a seer's —

(Irregular, with irregular refrain)

Uncle Sam's my usual muse but.
Calliope Urania & radioactive Polyhymnia attend for now noctes atque dies patet the door & yonic yawn.

under under the town & down down in the dingled dark where dirt lurks doubling its unlovely half-life minutemeal.
there nowanights in a hundred neon shoes the undifferentiated id endures.
it the id das Es is does whatever it is that it does & whatever it does it does all the time & does it what's more on one one-note note.

f.

here & now.
dear doctor colon.

it lamely leaks this aching sore wounds thought & cripples up sleep.
wryjawed up the steep-spined stepped spikes of a a a stone-stiff neck the snapshot-window of our dearest door the door to sleep is shut by frost & fog now.

lo look idiosyncratic crystals circumcumulate into a miniature chandelier for the ballroom of my lower abdomen lo.
I hope to hell it smells to high heaven for I want God to know.

the existing key to things as is is a misfit.
but my mind meanders.
well now there.

I

Hast thou not seen, officious with delight,
Move through the illumined air about the flower
The Bee, that fears to drink its purple light,
Lest danger lurk within that Rose's bower?
Hast thou not marked the moth's enamoured flight
About the Taper's flame at evening hour,
Till kindle in that monumental fire
His sunflower wings their own funereal pyre?
My heart, its wishes trembling to unfold,

From the Spanish of Calderon

Scene I. — Enter Cyprian, dressed as a Student; Clarin and Moscon as poor Scholars, with books.

Cyprian. In the sweet solitude of this calm place,
This intricate wild wilderness of trees
And flowers and undergrowth of odorous plants,
Leave me; the books you brought out of the house
To me are ever best society.
And while with glorious festival and song,
Antioch now celebrates the consecration
Of a proud temple to great Jupiter,
And bears his image in loud jubilee

When cuckoo calls and I may hear,
And thrice and four times and again.

The sun just risen
Flares his wet brilliance in the dintless heaven.

He thanked me for my kindness, disagreed
With my conclusions in a modest way
(He's modest, that 't is only just to say);
But in a letter that he sends to-day
Here is his answer. Listen, while I read.

" Most noble sir, " — and so on, and so on, —
" A thousand thanks, " — hem — hem, — " in one so high, "
" Learned in art, " — et cetera, — " I shall try " —
Oh! that's about his picture, — " critic's eye; "
" Patron, " — pho, pho — where has the passage gone?
Ah! here we come to it at last: " You thought, "

IN WHICH FEDERIGO DI MONTAFELTRO, DUKE OF URBINO, GIVES HIS VIEWS OF RAFFAELLE .

O H ! I admit his talent, — there's no lack
Of facile talent; what in him I blame
Is that he travels in his master's track
With such a slavish, imitative aim.
'Tis Perugino all, from head to foot:
Angels the same, with their affected grace,
Playing the lyre with sideway upturned face;
Round-faced, small-eyed Madonnas, — all the same
Landscapes mere copies; subjects, branch and root,
His master's subjects, — not an arch or shaft

Dewy fields in the morning under the sun
Stand shock and silver-coated.