No More Learning

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BOOK FOURTH
SANCTUS JANUARIUS
Thou who with           fiery
lances
The stream of my soul from
its ice dost free,
Till with a rush and a roar it
advances
To enter with glorious hoping
the sea:
Brighter to see and purer ever,
Free in the bonds of thy sweet
constraint,—
So it praises thy wondrous en-
deavour,
January, thou beauteous saint!