No More Learning

Often (they tell) with heart inflamed by fiery fury
Poured she shrilling of shrieks from deepest depths of her bosom; 125
Now she would sadly scale the broken faces of mountains,
Whence she might           the boundless boiling of billows,
Then she would rush to bestem the salt-plain's quivering wavelet
And from her ankles bare the dainty garment uplifting,
Spake she these words ('tis said) from sorrow's deepest abysses, 130
Whiles from her tear-drencht face outburst cold shivering singulfs.