No More Learning

Spanish, to walk, what.
Speech-making, an abuse of gift of speech.
Spirit-rapping does not repay the spirits engaged in it.
Split-Foot, Old, made to squirm.
Spring, described.
Star, north, subject to indictment, whether.
Statesman, a genuine, defined.
Stearns, Othniel, fable by.
Stone Spike, the.
Store, cheap cash, a wicked fraud.
Strong, Governor Caleb, a patriot.
Style, the catalogue.
Sumter, shame of.
Sunday should mind its own business.
Swearing commended as a figure of speech.
Swett, Jethro C. , his fall.
Swift, Dean, threadbare saying of.

Tag, elevated to the Cardinalate.
Taney, C. J.
Tarandfeather, Rev. Mr.
Tarbox, Shearjashub, first white child born in Jaalam.
Tartars, Mongrel.
Taxes, direct, advantages of.
Taylor, General, greased by Mr. Choate.
Taylor zeal, its origin.
Teapots, how made dangerous.
Ten, the upper.
Tesephone, banished for long-windedness.
Thacker, Rev. Preserved, D. D.
Thanks get lodged.
Thanksgiving, Feejee.
Thaumaturgus, Saint Gregory, letter of, to the Devil.
Theleme, Abbey of.
Theocritus, the inventor of idyllic poetry
Theory, defined.
Thermopylaes, too many.
'They'll say' a notable bully.
Thirty-nine articles might be made serviceable.
Thor, a foolish attempt of.
Thoreau.
Thoughts, live ones characterized.
Thumb, General Thomas, a valuable member of society.
Thunder, supposed in easy circumstances.
Thynne, Mr. , murdered.
Tibullus.
Time,
an innocent personage to swear by,
a scene-shifter.
Tinkham, Deacon Pelatiah,
story concerning, not told,
alluded to,
does a very sensible thing.
Toms, Peeping.
Toombs, a doleful sound from.
Trees, various kinds of extraordinary ones.
Trowbridge, William, mariner, adventure of.
Truth
and falsehood start from same point,
truth invulnerable to satire,
compared to a river,
of fiction sometimes truer than fact,
told plainly, _passim_.
Tuileries,
exciting scene at,
front parlor of.
Tully, a saying of.
Tunnel, Northwest-Passage, a poor investment.
Turkey-Buzzard Boost.
Tuscaloosa.
Tutchel, Rev. Jonas, a Sadducee.
Tweedledee, gospel according to.
Tweedledum, great principles of.

_Tylerus,
juvenis insignis,
porphyrogenitus,
Iohanides, flito celeris,
bene titus_.
Tyrants, European, how made to tremble.

Ulysses,
husband of Penelope,
borrows money, (for full particulars of, see Homer and Dante)
_rex_.
Unanimity, new ways of producing.
Union,
its hoops off,
its good old meaning.
Universe, its breeching.
University, triennial catalogue of.
Us, nobody to be compared with, and see _World, passim_.

Van Buren,
fails of gaining Mr. Sawin's confidence,
his son John reproved.
Van, Old, plan to set up.
Vattel, as likely to fall on _your_ toes as on mine.
Venetians invented something once.
Vices, cardinal, sacred conclave of.
Victoria, Queen,
her natural terror,
her best carpets.
Vinland.
Virgin, the, letter of, to Magistrates of Messina.
_Virginia, descripta_.
Virginians, their false heraldry.
Voltaire, _esprit de_.
Vratz, Captain, a Pomeranian, singular views of.

Wachuset Mountain.
Wait, General.
Wales, Prince of,
calls Brother Jonathan _consanguineus noster_,
but had not, apparently, consulted the Garter King at Arms.
Walpole, Horace,
classed,
his letters praised.
Waltham Plain, Cornwallis at.
Walton, punctilious in his intercourse with fishes.
War,
abstract, horrid,
its hoppers, grist of, what.
Warren, Fort.
Warton, Thomas, a story of.
Washington, charge brought against.
Washington, city of,
climatic influence of, on coats,
mentioned,
grand jury of.
Washingtons, two hatched at a time by improved machine.
_Watchmanus, noctivagus_.
Water, Taunton, proverbially weak.
Water-trees.
Weakwash, a name fatally typical.
Webster, his unabridged quarto, its deleteriousness.
Webster, some sentiments of, commended by Mr. Sawin.
Westcott, Mr. , his horror.
Whig party
has a large throat,
but query as to swallowing spurs.
White-house.
Wickliffe, Robert, consequences of his bursting.
Wife-trees.
Wilbur, Mrs. Dorcas (Pilcox),
an invariable rule of,
her profile,
tribute to.
Wilbur, Rev. Homer, A. M. ,
consulted,
his instructions to his flock,
a proposition of his for Protestant bomb-shells,
his elbow nudged,
his notions of satire,
some opinions of his quoted with apparent approval by Mr. Biglow,
geographical speculations of,
a justice of the peace,
a letter of,
a Latin pun of,
runs against a post without injury,
does not seek notoriety (whatever some malignants may affirm),
fits youths for college,
a chaplain during late war with England,
a shrewd observation of,
some curious speculations of,
his Martello-tower,
forgets he is not in pulpit,
extracts from sermon of,
interested in John Smith,
his views concerning present state of letters,
a stratagem of,
ventures two hundred and fourth interpretation of Beast in Apocalypse,
christens Hon. B. Sawin, then an infant,
an addition to our _sylva_ proposed by,
curious and instructive adventure of,
his account with an unnatural uncle,
his uncomfortable imagination,
speculations concerning Cincinnatus,
confesses digressive tendency of mind,
goes to work on sermon (not without fear that his readers will dub
him with a reproachful epithet like that with which Isaac Allerton,
a Mayflower man, revenges himself on a delinquent debtor of his,
calling him in his will, and thus holding him up to posterity, as
'John Peterson, THE BORE'),
his modesty,
disclaims sole authorship of Mr. Biglow's writings,
his low opinion of prepensive autographs,
a chaplain in 1812,
cites a heathen comedian,
his fondness for the Book of Job,
preaches a Fast-Day discourse,
is prevented from narrating a singular occurrence,
is presented with a pair of new spectacles,
his church services indecorously sketched by Mr. Sawin,
hopes to decipher a Runic inscription,
a fable by,
deciphers Runic inscription,
his method therein,
is ready to reconsider his opinion of tobacco,
his opinion of the Puritans,
his death,
born in Pigsgusset,
letter of Rev. Mr. Hitchcock concerning,
fond of Milton's Christmas hymn,
his monument (proposed),
his epitaph,
his last letter,
his supposed disembodied spirit,
table belonging to,
sometimes wrote Latin verses,
his table-talk,
his prejudices,
against Baptists,
his sweet nature,
his views of style,
a story of his.
Wildbore, a vernacular one, how to escape.
Wilkes, Captain, borrows rashly.
Wind, the, a good Samaritan.
Wingfield, his 'Memorial'.
Wooden leg,
remarkable for sobriety,
never eats pudding.
Woods, the. See _Belmont_.
Works, covenants of, condemned.
World, this, its unhappy temper.
Wright, Colonel, providentially rescued.
Writing, dangerous to reputation.
Wrong, abstract, safe to oppose.

Yankees, their worst wooden nutmegs.

Zack, Old.




INDEX OF FIRST LINES


A beggar through the world am I,
A camel-driver, angry with his drudge,
A heap of bare and splintery crags,
A hundred years! they're quickly fled,
A legend that grew in the forest's hush,
A lily thou wast when I saw thee first,
A poet cannot strive for despotism,
A presence both by night and day,
A race of nobles may die out,
A stranger came one night to Yussouf's tent,
About the oak that framed this chair, of old,
Alike I hate to be your debtor,
Along a river-side, I know not where,
Amid these fragments of heroic days,
An ass munched thistles, while a nightingale,
'And how could you dream of meeting? '
Another star 'neath Time's horizon dropped,
Are we, then, wholly fallen? Can it be,
As a twig trembles, which a bird,
As, cleansed of Tiber's and Oblivion's slime,
As, flake by flake, the beetling avalanches,
As life runs on, the road grows strange,
As sinks the sun behind yon alien hills,
As the broad ocean endlessly upheaveth,
At Carnac in Brittany, close on the bay,
At length arrived, your book I take,
At twenty we fancied the blest Middle Ages,
Ay, pale and silent maiden,

B, taught by Pope to do his good by stealth,
Beauty on my hearth-stone blazing!
Beloved, in the noisy city here,
Beneath the trees,
Bowing thyself in dust before a Book,

Can this be thou who, lean and pale,
Come back before the birds are flown,
'Come forth! ' my catbird calls to me,
Curtis, whose Wit, with Fancy arm in arm,

Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way,
Dear M. ---- By way of saving time,
Dear Sir,--You wish to know my notions,
Dear Sir,--Your letter come to han',
Dear Wendell, why need count the years,
Death never came so nigh to me before,
Don't believe in the Flying Dutchman?
Down 'mid the tangled roots of things,

Ef I a song or two could make,
Entranced I saw a vision in the cloud,
Ere pales in Heaven the morning star,

Fair as a summer dream was Margaret,
Far over Elf-land poets stretch their sway,
Far through the memory shines a happy day,
Far up on Katahdin thou towerest,
Far 'yond this narrow parapet of Time,
Fit for an Abbot of Theleme,
For this true nobleness I seek in vain,
Frank-hearted hostess of the field and wood,
From the close-shut windows gleams no spark,
Full oft the pathway to her door,

Giddings, far rougher names than thine have grown,
Go! leave me, Priest; my soul would be,
God! do not let my loved one die,
God makes sech nights, all white an' still,
God sends his teachers unto every age,
Godminster? Is it Fancy's play?
Gold of the reddening sunset, backward thrown,
Gone, gone from us! and shall we see,
Great soul, thou sittest with me in my room,
Great truths are portions of the soul of man,
Guvener B. is a sensible man,

He came to Florence long ago,
He spoke of Burns: men rude and rough,
He stood upon the world's broad threshold; wide,
He who first stretched his nerves of subtile wire,
Heaven's cup held down to me I drain,
Here once my step was quickened,
Here we stan' on the Constitution, by thunder!
Hers all that Earth could promise or bestow,
Hers is a spirit deep, and crystal-clear,
How strange are the freaks of memory!
How struggles with the tempest's swells,
How was I worthy so divine a loss,
Hushed with broad sunlight lies the hill,

I am a man of forty, sirs, a native of East Haddam,
I ask not for those thoughts, that sudden leap,
I call as fly the irrevocable hours,
I cannot think that thou shouldst pass away,
I christened you in happier days, before,
I could not bear to see those eyes,
I did not praise thee when the crowd,
I do not come to weep above thy pall,
I don't much s'pose, hows'ever I should plen it,
I du believe in Freedom's cause,
I go to the ridge in the forest,
I grieve not that ripe knowledge takes away,
I had a little daughter,
I have a fancy: how shall I bring it,
I hed it on my min' las' time, when I to write ye started,
I know a falcon swift and peerless,
I love to start out arter night's begun,
I need not praise the sweetness of his song,
I rise, Mr. Chairman, as both of us know,
I sat and watched the walls of night,
I sat one evening in my room,
I saw a Sower walking slow,
I saw the twinkle of white feet,
I sent you a message, my friens, t'other day,
I spose you recollect thet I explained my gennle views,
I spose you wonder ware I be; I can't tell, fer the soul o' me,
I swam with undulation soft,
I thank ye, my frien's, for the warmth o' your greetin',
I thought our love at full, but I did err,
I treasure in secret some long, fine hair,
I, walking the familiar street,
I was with thee in Heaven: I cannot tell,
I watched a moorland torrent run,
I went to seek for Christ,
I would more natures were like thine,
I would not have this perfect love of ours,
If he be a nobler lover, take him!
If I let fall a word of bitter mirth,
If I were the rose at your window,
In a small chamber, friendless and unseen,
In good old times, which means, you know,
In his tower sat the poet,
In life's small things be resolute and great,
In the old days of awe and keen-eyed wonder,
In town I hear, scarce wakened yet,
In vain we call old notions fudge,
Into the sunshine,
It don't seem hardly right, John,
It is a mere wild rosebud,
It mounts athwart the windy hill,
It was past the hour of trysting,
It's some consid'ble of a spell sence I hain't writ no letters,

Leaves fit to have been poor Juliet's cradle-rhyme,
Let others wonder what fair face,
Light of triumph in her eyes,
Look on who will in apathy, and stifle they who can,
Looms there the New Land,

Maiden, when such a soul as thine is born,
Mary, since first I knew thee, to this hour,
Men say the sullen instrument,
Men! whose boast it is that ye,
My coachman, in the moonlight there,
My day began not till the twilight fell,
My heart, I cannot still it,
My Love, I have no fear that thou shouldst die,
My name is Water: I have sped,
My soul was like the sea,
My worthy friend, A. Gordon Knott,

Never, surely, was holier man,
New England's poet, rich in love as years,
Nine years have slipt like hour-glass sand,
No? Hez he? He haint, though? Wut? Voted agin him?
Nor deemed he lived unto himself alone,
Not always unimpeded can I pray,
Not as all other women are,
Now Biorn, the son of Heriulf, had ill days,

O days endeared to every Muse,
'O Dryad feet,'
O dwellers in the valley-land,
O Land of Promise! from what Pisgah's height,
O moonlight deep and tender,
O wandering dim on the extremest edge,
Of all the myriad moods of mind,
Oft round my hall of portraiture I gaze,
Oh, tell me less or tell me more,
Old events have modern meanings; only that survives,
Old Friend, farewell! Your kindly door again,
On this wild waste, where never blossom came,
Once git a smell o' musk into a draw,
Once hardly in a cycle blossometh,
Once on a time there was a pool,
One after one the stars have risen and set,
One feast, of holy days the crest,
One kiss from all others prevents me,
Opening one day a book of mine,
Our love is not a fading, earthly flower,
Our ship lay tumbling in an angry sea,
Over his keys the musing organist,

Phoebus, sitting one day in a laurel-tree's shade,
Praisest Law, friend? We, too, love it much as they that love it best,
Propped on the marsh, a dwelling now, I see,
Punctorum garretos colens et cellara Quinque,

Rabbi Jehosha used to say,
Reader! Walk up at once (it will soon be too late),
Rippling through thy branches goes the sunshine,

Said Christ our Lord, I will go and see,
Seat of all woes? Though Nature's firm decree,
She gave me all that woman can,
Shell, whose lips, than mine more cold,
Ship, blest to bear such freight across the blue,
Shy soul and stalwart, man of patient will,
Silencioso por la puerta,
Sisters two, all praise to you,
Skilled to pull wires, he baffles Nature's hope,
Sleep is Death's image,--poets tell us so,
So dreamy-soft the notes, so far away,
Some sort of heart I know is hers,
Sometimes come pauses of calm, when the rapt bard, holding his heart back,
Somewhere in India, upon a time,
Spirit, that rarely comest now,
Still thirteen years: 'tis autumn now,
Stood the tall Archangel weighing,
Strong, simple, silent are the [steadfast] laws,
Swiftly the politic goes: is it dark? --he borrows a lantern,

Thank God, he saw you last in pomp of May,
Thanks to the artist, ever on my wall,
That's a rather bold speech, my Lord Bacon,
The Bardling came where by a river grew,
The century numbers fourscore years,
The cordage creaks and rattles in the wind,
The dandelions and buttercups,
The electric nerve, whose instantaneous thrill,
The fire is burning clear and blithely,
The hope of Truth grows stronger, day by day,
The little gate was reached at last,
The love of all things springs from love of one,
The Maple puts her corals on in May,
The misspelt scrawl, upon the wall,
The moon shines white and silent,
The New World's sons, from England's breasts we drew,
The next whose fortune 'twas a tale to tell,
The night is dark, the stinging sleet,
The old Chief, feeling now wellnigh his end,
The path from me to you that led,
The pipe came safe, and welcome too,
The rich man's son inherits lands,
The same good blood that now refills,
The sea is lonely, the sea is dreary,
The snow had begun in the gloaming,
The tower of old Saint Nicholas soared upward to the skies,
The wind is roistering out of doors,
The wisest man could ask no more of Fate,
The world turns mild; democracy, they say,
There are who triumph in a losing cause,
There came a youth upon the earth,
There lay upon the ocean's shore,
There never yet was flower fair in vain,
Therefore think not the Past is wise alone,
These pearls of thought in Persian gulfs were bred,
These rugged, wintry days I scarce could bear,
They pass me by like shadows, crowds on crowds,
Thick-rushing, like an ocean vast,
This is the midnight of the century,--hark!
This kind o' sogerin' aint a mite like our October trainin',
This little blossom from afar,
Thou look'dst on me all yesternight,
Thou wast the fairest of all man-made things,
Though old the thought and oft exprest,
Thrash away, you'll _hev_ to rattle,
Through suffering and sorrow thou hast passed,
Thy love thou sentest oft to me,
Thy voice is like a fountain,
'Tis a woodland enchanted!
To those who died for her on land and sea,
True as the sun's own work but more refined,
True Love is a humble, low-born thing,
Turbid from London's noise and smoke,
'Twas sung of old in hut and hall,
'Twere no hard task, perchance, to win,
Two brothers once, an ill-matched pair,
Two fellers, Isrel named and Joe,

Unconscious as the sunshine, simply sweet,
Unseen Musician, thou art sure to please,
Untremulous in the river clear,

Violet! sweet violet!

Wait a little: do _we_ not wait?
Walking alone where we walked together,
We see but half the causes of our deeds,
We, too, have autumns, when our leaves,
We wagered, she for sunshine, I for rain,
Weak-winged is song,
What boot your houses and your lands?
What countless years and wealth of brain were spent,
'What fairings will ye that I bring? '
What gnarled stretch, what depth of shade, is his!
What hath Love with Thought to do?
What know we of the world immense,
What man would live coffined with brick and stone,
What mean these banners spread,
'What means this glory round our feet,'
What Nature makes in any mood,
What visionary tints the year puts on,
What were I, Love, if I were stripped of thee,
What were the whole void world, if thou wert dead,
When a deed is done for Freedom, through the broad earth's aching breast,
When I was a beggarly boy,
When oaken woods with buds are pink,
When Persia's sceptre trembled in a hand,
When the down is on the chin,
When wise Minerva still was young,
Where is the true man's fatherland?
'Where lies the capital, pilgrim, seat of who governs the Faithful? '
Whether my heart hath wiser grown or not,
Whether the idle prisoner through his grate,
While the slow clock, as they were miser's gold,
Whither? Albeit I follow fast,
Who cometh over the hills,
Who does his duty is a question,
Who hath not been a poet? Who hath not,
Why should I seek her spell to decompose,
With what odorous woods and spices,
Woe worth the hour when it is crime,
Wondrous and awful are thy silent halls,
Words pass as wind, but where great deeds were done,
Worn and footsore was the Prophet,

Ye little think what toil it was to build,
Ye who, passing graves by night,
Yes, faith is a goodly anchor,

Zekle crep' up, quite unbeknown,




INDEX OF TITLES

The titles of major works and of general divisions are set in SMALL
CAPITALS.


A. C. L. , To.
Above and Below.
Absence.
After the Burial.
Agassiz.
Agro-Dolce.
Al Fresco.
Aladdin.
Alexander, Fanny, To.
All-Saints.
Allegra.
Ambrose.
Anti-Apis.
Appledore, Pictures from.
April Birthday, An--at Sea.
Arcadia Rediviva.
At the Burns Centennial.
At the Commencement Dinner, 1866.
Auf Wiedersehen.
Auspex.

Bankside.
Bartlett, Mr. John, To.
Beaver Brook.
Beggar, The.
Bibliolatres.
Biglow, Mr. Hosea, to the Editor of the Atlantic Monthly.
Biglow, Mr. , Latest Views of.
BIGLOW PAPERS, THE.
Biglow's, Mr. Hosea, Speech in March Meeting.
Birch-Tree, The.
Birdofredum Sawin, Esq. , to Mr. Hosea Biglow.
Birdofredum Sawin, Esq. , to Mr. Hosea Biglow.
Birthday Verses.
Black Preacher, The.
Blondel, Two Scenes from the Life of.
Bon Voyage.
Boss, The.
Boston, Letter from.
Bradford, C. F. , To.
Brakes, The.
Brittany, A Legend of.
Broken Tryst, The.
Burns Centennial, At the.

Captive, The.
Capture of Fugitive Slaves near Washington, On the.
Casa sin Alma.
CATHEDRAL, THE.
Cervantes, Prison of.
Changed Perspective.
Changeling, The.
Channing, Dr. , Elegy on the Death of.
Chippewa Legend, A.
Christmas Carol, A.
Cochituate Water, Ode written for the Celebration of the Introduction
of the, into the City of Boston.
Columbus.
Commemoration, Ode recited at the Harvard.
Concord Bridge, Ode read at the One Hundredth Anniversary of the Fight at.
Contrast, A.
Courtin', The.
Credidimus Jovem regnare.
Curtis, George William, An Epistle to.

Dancing Bear, The.
Dandelion, To the.
Dante, On a Portrait of, by Giotto.
Dara.
Darkened Mind, The.
Dead House, The.
Death of a Friend's Child, On the.
Death of Queen Mercedes.
Debate in the Sennit, The.
Discovery, The.
Dobson's, Mr. Austin, 'Old World Idylls,' Receiving a Copy of.

E. G. de R.
EARLIER POEMS.
Eleanor makes Macaroons.
Elegy on the Death of Dr. Channing.
Ember Picture, An.
Endymion.
Epistle to George William Curtis, An.
Estrangement.
Eurydice.
Ewig-Weibliche, Das.
Extreme Unction.
Eye's Treasury, The.

FABLE FOR CRITICS, A.
Fact or Fancy?
Falcon, The.
Familiar Epistle to a Friend, A.
Fancy's Casuistry.
Fatherland, The.
Festina Lente.
Finding of the Lyre, The.
First Snow-Fall, The.
Fitz Adam's Story.
Flying Dutchman, The.
Foot-Path, The.
For an Autograph.
Foreboding, A.
Forlorn, The.
Fountain, The.
Fountain of Youth, The.
Fourth of July, 1876, An Ode for the.
FRAGMENTS OF AN UNFINISHED POEM.
France, Ode to.
'Franciscus de Verulamio sic cogitavit. '
Freedom.
Future, To the.

Garrison, W. L. , To.
Ghost-Seer, The.
Giddings, J. R. , To.
Glance behind the Curtain, A.
Godminster Chimes.
Gold Egg: A Dream-Fantasy.
Grant, General, On a Bust of.
Graves of Two English Soldiers on Concord Battle-Ground, Lines
suggested by the.
Growth of the Legend, The.

H. W. L. , To.
Hamburg, An Incident of the Fire at.
Happiness, Ode to.
Harvard Commemoration, Ode recited at the.
HEARTSEASE AND RUE.
Hebe.
Heritage, The.
Holmes, To.
Hood, To the Memory of.
How I consulted the Oracle of the Goldfishes.
Hunger and Cold.

In a Copy of Omar Khayydm.
In Absence.
In an Album.
In the Half-Way House.
In the Twilight.
Incident in a Railroad Car, An.
Incident of the Fire at Hamburg, An.
Indian-Summer Reverie, An.
Inscriptions.
For a Bell at Cornell University.
For a Memorial Window to Sir Walter Raleigh, set up in St. Margaret's,
Westminster, by American Contributors.
Proposed for a Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument in Boston.
International Copyright.
Interview with Miles Standish, An.
Inveraray, On Planting a Tree at.
Invita Minerva.
Invitation, An.
Irene.

Jonathan to John.

Keats, To the Spirit of.
Kettelopotomachia.
Kossuth.

Lamartine, To.
Landlord, The.
LAST POEMS.
Latest Views of Mr. Biglow.
Leaving the Matter open.
Legend of Brittany, A.
L'ENVOi (To the Muse).
L'Envoi (Whether my heart hath wiser grown or not).
Lesson, The.
Letter, A, from a candidate for the presidency in answer to suttin
questions proposed by Mr. Hosea Biglow, inclosed in a note from Mr.
Biglow to S. H. Gay, Esq. , editor of the National Anti-Slavery Standard.
Letter, A, from Mr. Ezekiel Biglow of Jaalam to the Hon. Joseph T.
Buckingham, editor of the Boston Courier, inclosing a poem of his
son, Mr. Hosea Biglow.
Letter, A, from Mr. Hosea Biglow to the Hon. J. T. Buckingham, editor
of the Boston Courier, covering a letter from Mr. B. Sawin, private
in the Massachusetts Regiment.
Letter, A Second, from B. Sawin, Esq.
Letter, A Third, from B. Sawin, Esq.
LETTER FROM BOSTON.
Lines (suggested by the Graves of Two English Soldiers on Concord
Battle-Ground).
Longing.
Love.
Love and Thought.
Love's Clock.

M. O. S. , To.