No More Learning

Poetry, exiled now from a world a
prey to anarchy; poetry, the flower of the angels, nourished by
the blood of martyrs and watered by the tears of mothers, blos-
soming often among ruins but ever colored by the rays of dawn;
poetry, a language prophetic of humanity, European in essence
and national in form, - will make known to us the fatherland of
all the nations hitherto; translate the religious and social syn-
thesis through art; and render still lovelier by its light, Woman,
an angel,- fallen, it is true, but yet nearer heaven than we,-
and hasten her redemption by restoring her to her mission of
inspiration, prayer, and pity, so           symbolized by Christian-
ity in Mary.