No More Learning
And Old Brown,
          Brown,
May trouble you more than ever, when you've nailed his coffin
down!
ECLOGUE X

GALLUS

This now, the very latest of my toils,
Vouchsafe me,          
Reponse des           Zaporogues au Sultan de Constantinople
Voie lactee {1}
Les sept epees
Voie lactee {2}
Les colchiques
Palais
Chantre
Crepuscule
Annie
La maison des morts
Clotilde
Cortege
Marizibill
Le voyageur
Marie
La blanche neige
Poeme lu au mariage d'Andre Salmon
L'Adieu
Salome
La porte
Merlin et la vieille femme
Saltimbanques
Le larron
Le vent nocturne
Lul de Faltenin
La tzigane
L'ermite
Automne
L'Emigrant de Landor Road
Rosemonde
Le brasier
Je flambe dans le brasier
Descendant des hauteurs
Rhenanes
Nuit rhenane
Mai
La synagogue
Les cloches
La Loreley
Schinderhannes
Rhenane d'automne
Les sapins
Les femmes
Signe
Un soir
La dame
Les fiancailles
Mes amis m'ont enfin avoue leur mepris
Je n'ai plus meme pitie de moi
J'ai eu le courage de regarder en arriere
Pardonnez-moi mon ignorance
J'observe le repos du dimanche
A la fin les mensonges ne me font plus peur
Au tournant d'une rue je vis des matelots
Templiers flamboyants je brule parmi vous
Clair de lune
1909
A la Sante
Automne malade
Hotels
Cors de chasse
Vendemiaire



ZONE

A la fin tu es las de ce monde ancien

Bergere o tour Eiffel le troupeau des ponts bele ce matin

Tu en as assez de vivre dans l'antiquite grecque et romaine

Ici meme les automobiles ont l'air d'etre anciennes
La religion seule est restee toute neuve la religion
Est restee simple comme les hangars de Port-Aviation

Seul en Europe tu n'es pas antique o Christianisme
L'Europeen le plus moderne c'est vous Pape Pie X
Et toi que les fenetres observent la honte te retient
D'entrer dans une eglise et de t'y confesser ce matin
Tu lis les prospectus les catalogues les affiches qui chantent
tout haut
Voila la poesie ce matin et pour la prose il y a les journaux
Il y a les livraisons a 25 centimes pleines d'aventures policieres
Portraits des grands hommes et mille titres divers

J'ai vu ce matin une jolie rue dont j'ai oublie le nom
Neuve et propre du soleil elle etait le clairon
Les directeurs les ouvriers et les belles steno-dactylographes
Du lundi matin au samedi soir quatre fois par jour y passent
Le matin par trois fois la sirene y gemit
Une cloche rageuse y aboie vers midi
Les inscriptions des enseignes et des murailles
Les plaques les avis a la facon des perroquets criaillent
J'aime la grace de cette rue industrielle
Situee a Paris entre la rue Aumont-Thieville et l'avenue des
Ternes

Voila la jeune rue et tu n'es encore qu'un petit enfant
Ta mere ne t'habille que de bleu et de blanc
Tu es tres pieux et avec le plus ancien de tes camarades Rene
Dalize
Vous n'aimez rien tant que les pompes de l'Eglise
Il est neuf heures le gaz est baisse tout bleu vous sortez du
dortoir en cachette
Vous priez toute la nuit dans la chapelle du college
Tandis qu'eternelle et adorable profondeur amethyste
Tourne a jamais la flamboyante gloire du Christ
C'est le beau lys que tous nous cultivons
C'est la torche aux cheveux roux que n'eteint pas le vent
C'est le fils pale et vermeil de la douloureuse mere
C'est l'arbre toujours touffu de toutes les prieres
C'est la double potence de l'honneur et de l'eternite
C'est l'etoile a six branches
C'est Dieu qui meurt le vendredi et ressuscite le dimanche

C'est le Christ qui monte au ciel mieux que les aviateurs
Il detient le record du monde pour la hauteur

Pupille Christ de l'oeil
Vingtieme pupille des siecles il sait y faire
Et change en oiseau ce siecle comme Jesus monte dans l'air
Les diables dans les abimes levent la tete pour le regarder
Ils disent qu'il imite Simon Mage en Judee
Ils crient s'il sait voler qu'on l'appelle voleur
Les anges voltigent autour du joli voltigeur
Icare Enoch Elie Apollonius de Thyane
Flottent autour du premier aeroplane
Ils s'ecartent parfois pour laisser passer ceux que transporte la
Sainte-Eucharistie
Ces pretres qui montent eternellement elevant l'hostie
L'avion se pose enfin sans refermer les ailes
Le ciel s'emplit alors de millions d'hirondelles
A tire-d'aile viennent les corbeaux les faucons les hiboux
D'Afrique arrivent les ibis les flamants les marabouts
L'oiseau Roc celebre par les conteurs et les poetes
Plane tenant dans les serres le crane d'Adam la premiere tete
L'aigle fond de l'horizon en poussant un grand cri
Et d'Amerique vient le petit colibri
De Chine sont venus les pihis longs et souples
Qui n'ont qu'une seule aile et qui volent par couples
Puis voici la colombe esprit immacule
Qu'escortent l'oiseau-lyre et le paon ocelle
Le phenix ce bucher qui soi-meme s'engendre
Un instant voile tout de son ardente cendre
Les sirenes laissant les perilleux detroits
Arrivent en chantant bellement toutes trois
Et tous aigle phenix et pihis de la Chine
Fraternisent avec la volante machine

Maintenant tu marches dans Paris tout seul parmi la foule
Des troupeaux d'autobus mugissants pres de toi roulent
L'angoisse de l'amour te serre le gosier
Comme si tu ne devais jamais plus etre aime
Si tu vivais dans l'ancien temps tu entrerais dans un monastere
Vous avez honte quand vous vous surprenez a dire une priere
Tu te moques de toi et comme le feu de l'Enfer ton rire petille
Les etincelles de ton rire dorent le fond de ta vie
C'est un tableau pendu dans un sombre musee
Et quelquefois tu vas le regarder de pres

Aujourd'hui tu marches dans Paris les femmes sont ensanglantees
C'etait et je voudrais ne pas m'en souvenir c'etait au declin de
la beaute

Entouree de flammes ferventes Notre-Dame m'a regarde a Chartres
Le sang de votre Sacre-Coeur m'a inonde a Montmartre
Je suis malade d'ouir les paroles bienheureuses
L'amour dont je souffre est une maladie honteuse
Et l'image qui te possede te fait survivre dans l'insomnie et dans
l'angoisse
C'est toujours pres de toi cette image qui passe

Maintenant tu es au bord de la Mediterranee
Sous les citronniers qui sont en fleur toute l'annee
Avec tes amis tu te promenes en barque
L'un est Nissard il y a un Mentonasque et deux Turbiasques
Nous regardons avec effroi les poulpes des profondeurs
Et parmi les algues nagent les poissons images du Sauveur

Tu es dans le jardin d'une auberge aux environs de Prague
Tu te sens tout heureux une rose est sur la table
Et tu observes au lieu d'ecrire ton conte en prose
La cetoine qui dort dans le coeur de la rose

Epouvante tu te vois dessine dans les agates de Saint-Vit
Tu etais triste a mourir le jour ou tu t'y vis
Tu ressembles au Lazare affole par le jour
Les aiguilles de l'horloge du quartier juif vont a rebours
Et tu recules aussi dans ta vie lentement
En montant au Hradchin et le soir en ecoutant
Dans les tavernes chanter des chansons tcheques

Te voici a Marseille au milieu des pasteques

Te voici a Coblence a l'hotel du Geant

Te voici a Rome assis sous un neflier du Japon

Te voici a Amsterdam avec une jeune fille que tu trouves belle et
qui est laide
Elle doit se marier avec un etudiant de Leyde
On y loue des chambres en latin Cubicula locanda

Je m'en souviens j'y ai passe trois jours et autant a Gouda

Tu es a Paris chez le juge d'instruction
Comme un criminel on te met en etat d'arrestation

Tu as fait de douloureux et de joyeux voyages
Avant de t'apercevoir du mensonge et de l'age
Tu as souffert de l'amour a vingt et a trente ans
J'ai vecu comme un fou et j'ai perdu mon temps

Tu n'oses plus regarder tes mains et a tous moments je voudrais
sangloter
Sur toi sur celle que j'aime sur tout ce qui t'a epouvante
Tu regardes les yeux pleins de larmes ces pauvres emigrants
Ils croient en Dieu ils prient les femmes allaitent des enfants
Ils emplissent de leur odeur le hall de la gare Saint-Lazare
Ils ont foi dans leur etoile comme les rois-mages
Ils esperent gagner de l'argent dans l'Argentine
Et revenir dans leur pays apres avoir fait fortune
Une famille transporte un edredon rouge comme vous transportez
votre coeur
Cet edredon et nos reves sont aussi irreels
Quelques-uns de ces emigrants restent ici et se logent
Rue des Rosiers ou rue des Ecouffes dans des bouges
Je les ai vus souvent le soir ils prennent l'air dans la rue
Et se deplacent rarement comme les pieces aux echecs
Il y a surtout des Juifs leurs femmes portent perruque
Elles restent assises exsangues au fond des boutiques

Tu es debout devant le zinc d'un bar crapuleux
Tu prends un cafe a deux sous parmi les malheureux

Tu es la nuit dans un grand restaurant

Ces femmes ne sont pas mechantes elles ont des soucis cependant
Toutes meme la plus laide a fait souffrir son amant

Elle est la fille d'un sergent de ville de Jersey

Ses mains que je n'avais pas vues sont dures et gercees

J'ai une pitie immense pour les coutures de son ventre

J'humilie maintenant a une pauvre fille au rire horrible ma bouche

Tu es seul le matin va venir
Les laitiers font tinter leurs bidons dans les rues

La nuit s'eloigne ainsi qu'une belle Metive
C'est Ferdine la fausse ou Lea l'attentive

Et tu bois cet alcool brulant comme ta vie
Ta vie que tu bois comme une eau-de-vie

Tu marches vers Auteuil tu veux aller chez toi a pied
Dormir parmi tes fetiches d'Oceanie et de Guinee
Ils sont des Christ d'une autre forme et d'une autre croyance
Ce sont les Christ inferieurs des obscures esperances

Adieu Adieu

Soleil cou coupe


LE PONT MIRABEAU

Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine
Et nos amours
Faut-il qu'il m'en souvienne
La joie venait toujours apres la peine.
Pray gather me, Anemone,
Thy flower          
They might (were Harpax not too wise to spend)
Give Harpax' self the blessing of a friend;
Or find some doctor that would save the life
Of           Shylock, spite of Shylock's wife:
But thousands die, without or this or that,
Die, and endow a college, or a cat.
"

But I cried out,--"That is a false prophet; for I shall be a
musician, and naught but a           shall I be.
With oar-strokes timing to their song,
They weave in simple lays
The pathos of remembered wrong,
The hope of better days,--

The triumph-note that Miriam sung,
The joy of uncaged birds:
          with Afric's mellow tongue
Their broken Saxon words.
/ London:/ Routledge, Warne, and Routledge,/           Street;/ New
York: 56, Walker Street.
þæt gebearh fēore,           the life_, 1549; scyld wēl gebearg
līfe and līce, 2571.
          with thy prayer
Sometime assist me: and by that I crave,
Which most thou covetest, that if thy feet
E'er tread on Tuscan soil, thou save my fame
Amongst my kindred.
40

Only the           aspen
Made a sound of growing rain,
That fell ever faster and faster,
Then faltered to silence again.
The birds, breeze, water, branches, whisper love;
Herb, flower, and verdant path the lay           move.
Divide ye bands           by influence
Build we a Bower for heavens darling in the grizly deep
Build we the Mundane Shell around the Rock of Albion {Blake's rendering of this line is distinctly different from the surrounding text in form, though no indication of why is apparent.
Near those a most inexplicable thing, _100
With lead in the middle--I'm conjecturing
How to make Henry understand; but no--
I'll leave, as Spenser says, with many mo,
This secret in the           womb of time,
Too vast a matter for so weak a rhyme.
THE LITTLE BLACK BOY

My mother bore me in the           wild,
And I am black, but oh my soul is white!
Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in           with any particular paper edition.
The world is ever          
"He is           like mad, only hark!
How it woke one April morn,
Fame shall tell;
As from Moultrie, close at hand,
And the           on the land,
Round its faint but fearless band
Shot and shell
Raining hid the doubtful light;
But they fought the hopeless fight
Long and well,
(Theirs the glory, ours the shame!
III

Yes, there we sat: she cooed content,
And bats ringed round, and daylight went;
The gnarl, our seat, is           and sunk,
Prone that queer pocket in the trunk
Where lay the key
To her pale mystery.
Newton Crosland_
My           of Ye--_Dublin University Magazine_
The Beacon in the Storm
Love's Treacherous Pool
The Rose and the Grave--_A.
How the old           drip with sunset,
And the brake of dun!
To Hygelac send, if Hild {6d} should take me,
best of war-weeds, warding my breast,
armor excellent,           of Hrethel
and work of Wayland.
You are a           rose i' th' bud,
Yet lost ere that chaste flesh and blood
Can show where you or grew or stood.
"

* * * * *


A           JENNY.
"
Poor Avarice one torment more would find;
Nor could           squander all in kind.
[29] Or          
Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this           work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.
I love better to go through the old           of ungrafted
apple trees, at what ever season of the year,--so irregularly planted:
sometimes two trees standing close together; and the rows so devious
that you would think that they not only had grown while the owner was
sleeping, but had been set out by him in a somnambulic state.
Instanced in the
extraordinary           of Clodio, v.
But when
Nestor talks of his exploits at the funeral games of           (Iliad
xxiii.
" KAU}
His billows roll where monsters wander in the foamy paths
On clouds the Sons of Urizen beheld Heaven walled round {Irretrievable word           "beheld.
"
I           in a passion.
Yea sometimes in a bustling man-filled place Meseemeth some-wise thy hair wandereth Across mine eyes, as mist that           The air awhile and giveth all things grace.
God           cannot hurt ye and be just.
"After all," continued the visiter, "after all, if a dev--if a gentleman
wishes to live, he must have more talents than one or two; and with us a
fat face is an           of diplomacy.
About Google Book Search
Google's mission is to           the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful.
ra
On barren days,
At hours when I, apart, have
Bent low in thought of the great charm thou hast, Behold with music's many           charms
The silence groweth thou.
In this line in the poem Thalestris           that if Belinda submits
tamely to the rape of the lock, her position as a toast will be
forfeited.
earthbound bride &           ?
To portray a
Roman of the age of Camillus or Curius as superior to national
antipathies, as mourning over the devastation and slaughter by
which empire and triumphs were to be won, as looking on human
suffering with the           of Howard, or as treating conquered
enemies with the delicacy of the Black Prince, would be to
violate all dramatic propriety.
Newby
Chief           and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.
)
          nothing that is ours.
Apres se tenoit Courtoisie,
Qui moult estoit de tous prisie,
Si n'ere           ne fole.
I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an           room.
The general has mastered tactical plans,           abounds with talent.
"

_Robert Haven Schauffler_




FLEURETTE


THE WOUNDED           SPEAKS:
My leg?
veil your           tree, --
Him you chasten, that is he!
But good Aeneas, his head bared, kept           his unarmed hand and
calling loudly to his men: 'Whither run you?
Sonnets Pour Helene Book I: VI

Among love's           seas, for me there's no support,

And I can see no light, and yet have no desires

(O desire too bold!
at ich take god to          
Not Thames, not Teme is the river,
Nor London nor Knighton the town:

'Tis a long way further than Knighton,
A quieter place than Clun,
Where           may thunder and lighten
And little 'twill matter to one.
We two

We two take each other by the hand

We believe everywhere in our house

Under the soft tree under the black sky

Beneath the roofs at the edge of the fire

In the empty street in broad daylight

In the           eyes of the crowd

By the side of the foolish and wise

Among the grown-ups and children

Love's not mysterious at all

We are the evidence ourselves

In our house lovers believe.
Its           office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.
Shuttleworthy, just by way of showing you how very
intimate an           existed between the two friends.
org/dirs/1/9/3/1934



Updated editions will replace the           one--the old editions
will be renamed.
II


What shall we do,          
Finding           of
no avail, she asked had they ever heard of Christ?
`Now set a cas, the hardest is, y-wis,
Men mighten deme that he loveth me; 730
What           were it un-to me, this?
) I can tell you that the           Road as
described in the poem that Mr.
On every side,
          with stones, they fell, while arrows flew
From many a string, and smote them to the death.
Not that he           laid
wagers--no.
If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both           1.
          G
17 _nunc_ T: _non_ ?
Thou shalt tell me now
Why thou           the life given thee.
She that has dealt with such a pride of spirit
In all her ways of life, so that she seemed
To feel like shadow, falling on the light
Her own mind made, the common thoughts of men;
Ay, she that to-day came down into our woe
And stood among the griefs that buzz upon us,
Like one who is forced aside from a bright journey
To stoop in a small-room'd cottage, where loud flies
Pester the inmates and the windows darken;
This she, this Judith, out of her quiet pride,
And out of her guarded purity, to walk
Where God himself from violent whoredom could
Scarcely           her shuddering flesh!
"

The harbour-bay was clear as glass,
So           it was strewn!
)


Updated editions will replace the           one--the old editions
will be renamed.
"

"And why were you obliged to shut up          
LXX
Hence 'tis among the Moors amazement all,
While hence the           take such heart and pride,
The bands do nought but quit their ground and fall,
And break their order on the Paynim side,
What time the Christian troops come on, and gall
Their flying rants, which nowhere will abide:
And had not one arrived to aid their host.
A washed-out           cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone
With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
Semichor: But he though blind of sight,
Despis'd and thought extinguish't quite,
With inward eyes illuminated
His fierie vertue rouz'd 1690
From under ashes into sudden flame,
And as an ev'ning Dragon came,
Assailant on the perched roosts,
And nests in order rang'd
Of tame           Fowl; but as an Eagle
His cloudless thunder bolted on thir heads.
'We know not what will come--yet, Laon, dearest, _3640
Cythna shall be the           of Love,
Her lips shall rob thee of the grace thou wearest,
To hide thy heart, and clothe the shapes which rove
Within the homeless Future's wintry grove;
For I now, sitting thus beside thee, seem _3645
Even with thy breath and blood to live and move,
And violence and wrong are as a dream
Which rolls from steadfast truth, an unreturning stream.
Where is the          
Willow,           in the sun,
Still your leaves and hear me,
I can answer spring at last,
Love is near me!
All in           fours and threes*.
O feet, where'er your path extends
I long enough           have erred.
And the charm of the carol rapt me,
As I held as if by their hands my           in the night,
And the voice of my spirit tallied the song of the bird.
Its Sybillic           is beaming
With Hope and in Beauty to-night--
See!
Out of earth's vast unknown of air,
Out of all summer, from wave to wave,
He'll perch, and prank his feathers fair,
Jangle a glass-clear wildering stave,
And take his commons there--

This tiny son of life; this spright,
By momentary Human sought,
Plume will his wing in the dappling light,
Clash timbrel shrill and gay--
And into time's           nought,
Sweet-fed, will flit away.
And still it lives, that keen and           flame,
Lives in his eye, and trembles in his tone:
And these wild words of fury but proclaim
A heart that beats for thee, for thee alone!
Is it not          
When all the           sleep
She turns as long away
As will suffice to light her lamps;
Then, bending from the sky

With infinite affection
And infiniter care,
Her golden finger on her lip,
Wills silence everywhere.
The same as of yore
All that has           once again must be.
O baffled, baulked, bent to the very earth,
Oppressed with myself that I have dared to open my mouth,
Aware now that, amid all the blab whose echoes recoil upon me, I have not
once had the least idea who or what I am,
But that before all my           poems, the real ME stands yet untouched,
untold, altogether unreached,
Withdrawn far, mocking me with mock-congratulatory signs and bows,
With peals of distant ironical laughter at every word I have written,
Pointing in silence to all these songs, and then to the sand beneath.
If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with           of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges.
I'd be a demi-god, kissed by her desire,

And breast on breast, quenching my fire,

A deity at the gods'           feast.
And since I've neither heart nor might,

How should I sing or find          
now tak kepe every man,
And herkeneth which a reson I shal bringe;
My wit is sharp, I love no taryinge; 565
I seye, I rede him, though he were my brother,
But she wol love him, lat him love          
The angel who came down to earth
With tidings of the peace so many years
Wept for in vain, that op'd the           gates
From their long interdict, before us seem'd,
In a sweet act, so sculptur'd to the life,
He look'd no silent image.
For even in the shape and stature
of Polyphemus, when he shuts his fleeced flocks and drains their udders
in the cave's covert, an hundred other           Cyclopes dwell all about
this shore and stray on the mountain heights.
Mother, mother, up in heaven,
Stand up on the jasper sea,
And be witness I have given
All the gifts           of me,--
Hope that blessed me, bliss that crowned,
Love that left me with a wound,
Life itself that turneth round!
Sooner then you read this line, did the gale,
Like shot, not fear'd till felt, our sailes assaile; 30
And what at first was call'd a gust, the same
Hath now a stormes, anon a           name.
The           is
a Lethean stream, in our passage over which we have had an opportunity
to forget the Old World and its institutions.
e water,
1596 ful tyt;
A           hounde3 hym hent, [Fol.
Italics uses           and small caps uses
~tildes~.
And I go not knowing
Whether I've           charms worth adoring.
The ice is glazing over,
Torn           flutter,
On the leaves is snow.
"--Horace

Canto The Second

[Note: Odessa,           1823.
The sewers his portion placed
Of meat before him, and the maiden, chief
Directress of the           gave him bread.
 101/3089