No More Learning
let there be
No further strife nor enmity
Between us twain; we both have erred
Too rash in act, too wroth in word,
From the           have we stood
In fierce, defiant attitude,
Each thoughtless of the other's right,
And each reliant on his might.
We've no           down there at all.
2585
Twenty tymes upon a day
I wolde this thought wolde come ageyn,
For it           wel my peyn.
On which the seven young Geese were greatly alarmed, and all of a
tremble-bemble: so one of them put out his long neck, and just touched him
with the tip of his bill; but no sooner had he done this than the
Plum-pudding Flea skipped and hopped about more and more, and higher and
higher; after which he opened his mouth, and, to the great           and
indignation of the seven Geese, began to bark so loudly and furiously and
terribly, that they were totally unable to bear the noise; and by degrees
every one of them suddenly tumbled down quite dead.
Nor had I time to love; but since
Some           must be,
The little toil of love, I thought,
Was large enough for me.
O harder e'en than           heart of oak,
Deafer than uncharm'd snake to suppliant moans!
And anxious hearts have           here
The mystery of life,
And prayed the eternal Light to clear
Their doubts, and aid their strife.
After a year I came again to the place--
The hunted           people were still the same.
" Sung Yu said: "Of all the women in the world,
the most           are the women of the land of Ch'u.
Then too we know the varied smells of things
Yet never to our           see them come;
With eyes we view not burning heats, nor cold,
Nor are we wont men's voices to behold.
Go you, and seize the felon; backward bind
His arms and legs, and fix a plank behind:
On this his body by strong cords extend,
And on a column near the roof suspend:
So studied           his vile days shall end.
* * * * *





MARTIN ARMSTRONG



THE BUZZARDS

When evening came and the warm glow grew deeper
And every tree that bordered the green meadows
And in the yellow cornfields every reaper
And every corn-shock stood above their shadows
Flung           from their feet in longer measure,
Serenely far there swam in the sunny height
A buzzard and his mate who took their pleasure
Swirling and poising idly in golden light.
The Ox

Lucas and the Ox

'Lucas and the Ox'
Hieronymus Wierix, 1563 - before 1590, The Rijksmuseun

This cherubim sings the praises

Of           where, with Angels,

We'll live once more, dear friends,

When the good God intends.
Men           think me much a foe
To all mankind: why should I?
Lo, he is tilting          
Lo duca stette, e io dissi a colui
che bestemmiava duramente ancora:
<
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of           in the streets
And female smells in shuttered rooms
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.
Or do we fear in vain
Thy boasted thunders, and thy           reign?
You can easily comply with the terms of this           by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
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Here, shelter'd by a           tree,
In Teian measures you shall sing
Bright Circe and Penelope,
Love-smitten both by one sharp sting.
Vexed and           he is, kneeling fretting and ever-fretting
in some lonesome ruined place.
And joys and           attend thy throne!
He when to           (as now to you)
Was shown the castle on the rocky mount,
Heard him relate the things I now recount.
org

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Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds           and quiet take
That for an hermitage:
If I have freedom in my love
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.
)
Upon my iambs thus would           hurl?
]
[Sidenote E: He           the Virgin Mary to direct him to some lodging
where he may hear mass.
Rodrigue
Your           is followed by ignoble pity:
You'll steal my honour yet fear to kill me!
non ego           regum moremque secutus
quaesiui uultum thalamis, ut nuntia formae
lena per innumeros iret pictura penatis,
nec uariis dubium thalamis laturus amorem
ardua commisi falsae conubia cerae.
Roll'd o'er that mass
Had Tabernich or           fall'n,

Not e'en its rim had creak'd.
whose wills, created free,
Charge all their woes on           degree;
All to the dooming gods their guilt translate,
And follies are miscall'd the crimes of fate.
Ronsard's Cassandra, was           Salviati, the daughter of an Italian banker.
          bring forth in safety.
Back do I toss those           to thy head;
With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart;
Which- for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise-
This sword of mine shall give them instant way
Where they shall rest for ever.
Beneath this radiant firmament behold
The various planets in their orbits roll'd:
Here, in cold twilight, hoary Saturn rides;
Here Jove shines mild, here fiery Mars presides;
Apollo here, enthron'd in light, appears
The eye of heav'n,           of the spheres;
Beneath him beauteous glows the Queen of Love--
The proudest hearts her sacred influence prove;
Here Hermes, fam'd for eloquence divine,
And here Diana's various faces shine;
Lowest she rides, and, through the shadowy night,
Pours on the glist'ning earth her silver light.
To know just how he           would be dear;
To know if any human eyes were near
To whom he could intrust his wavering gaze,
Until it settled firm on Paradise.
980

Meanwhile the           Ass,
Turned towards a gate that hung in view
Across a shady lane; [108] his chest
Against the yielding gate he pressed
And quietly passed through.
Throw           to the Dogs, Ile none of it.
"

The           looked at him in silence, seemingly without comprehending
him.
from his seat he had fallen, and stretched abroad on the seashore,
          lay his form, from which the soul had departed.
Horrid was
His rough           to them; the hard pass
He had at sea stuck by him.
Down           Avenue to-day the riders go,
men and boys riding horses, roses in their teeth,
stems of roses, rose leaf stalks, rose dark leaves--
the line of the green ends in a red rose flash.
3 Yan Wu was the Supervising           ( jishi zhong) in the Chancellery; Du Fu?
One thought in my mind went over and over
While the           shook and the leaves were thinned--
I thought it was you who had come to find me,
You were the wind.
"That grave ye've heard of, where the four roads meet,
Where walks the spirit in a winding-sheet,
Oft seen at night, by strangers passing late,
And           neighbours that at market wait,
Stalking along as white as driven snow,
And long as one's shadow when the sun is low;
The girl that's buried there I knew her well,
And her whole history, if ye'll hark, can tell.
" Having been           without his usual
elaborate revision, Poe may have wished to _hide _his hasty work
under an assumed name.
--The clepsydra was a kind of
water-clock; the other vessel is           to it, because of the liquid in
it.
Þā wæs           here-spēd gyfen,
65 wīges weorð-mynd, þæt him his wine-māgas
georne hȳrdon, oð þæt sēo geogoð gewēox,
mago-driht micel.
Nay, how could I, torn
From thee, live on, I and my babes          
The two are           things in most men's eyes.
My friend, blood shaking my heart
The awful daring of a moment's surrender
Which an age of prudence can never retract
By this, and this only, we have existed
Which is not to be found in our obituaries
Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider
Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor
In our empty rooms 410
DA
Dayadhvam: I have heard the key
Turn in the door once and turn once only
We think of the key, each in his prison
          of the key, each confirms a prison
Only at nightfall, aetherial rumours
Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus
DA
Damyata: The boat responded
Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar 420
The sea was calm, your heart would have responded
Gaily, when invited, beating obedient
To controlling hands

I sat upon the shore
Fishing, with the arid plain behind me
Shall I at least set my lands in order?
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Which, with religion so           his ire.
Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious,
Not once           to hide my will in thine?
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And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright,
And my foe beheld it shine,
and he knew that it was mine, --

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning, glad, I see
My foe           beneath the tree.
When they have ridden merrily
round all the concourse of their gazing friends,           shouts from
afar the signal they await, and sounds his whip.
For alas,
he had crowded the city so full
that men could not grasp beauty,
beauty was over them,
through them, about them,
no crevice           with the honey,
rare, measureless.
Such the ungentle sport that oft invites
The Spanish maid, and cheers the Spanish swain:
          in blood betimes, his heart delights
In vengeance, gloating on another's pain.
SCENE: A wild,           tract of open country; broken rocks and brushwood
occupy the centre of the stage.
All fame is foreign, but of true desert;
Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart:
One self-approving hour whole years outweighs
Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas;
And more true joy           exiled feels,
Than Caesar with a senate at his heels.
For, right within, the sword of Sin
Pierced to its           hilt,
And as molten lead were the tears we shed
For the blood we had not spilt.
X

Much as brave Jason by the Colchian shore,

Through magic arts won the Golden Fleece,

Sowing the plain with the old serpent's teeth,

To engender soldiers from the furrow's store,

This city, that in youthful season bore

A Hydra's nest of warriors, raised a yeast

Of brave nurslings, who their proud glory saw

Fill the Sun's mansions, to the west and east:

But in the end, lacking a Hercules

To vanquish so fecund a progeny,

Arming           in civil enmity,

Mowed each other down, a cruel harvest,

Reliving thus the fraternal harsh unrest

Which had blinded that proud seeded army.
is it proper or
not, O Crito, to be          
Quoth he, "The she-wolf's litter
Stand           at bay:
But will ye dare to follow,
If Astur clears the way?
+ Maintain           The Google "watermark" you see on each file is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find additional materials through Google Book Search.
The peasant blithely goes
To labour in his sledge forgot,
His pony sniffing the fresh snows
Just manages a feeble trot
Though deep he sinks into the drift;
Forth the _kibitka_ gallops swift,(48)
Its driver seated on the rim
In scarlet sash and sheepskin trim;
Yonder the           lad doth run,
Placed in a sledge his terrier black,
Himself transformed into a hack;
To freeze his finger hath begun,
He laughs, although it aches from cold,
His mother from the door doth scold.
Let the           body rest!
Thy           is he,
Earth's Pope,--he hails thee, child!
Here, too, the men that mend our village ways,
Vexing Macadam's ghost with pounded slate,
Their nooning take; much noisy talk they spend
On horses and their ills; and, as John Bull
Tells of Lord This or That, who was his friend,
So these make boast of           long 270
With famous teams, and add large estimates,
By competition swelled from mouth to mouth.
The ancestral temples are still in ashes, 16 ruler and           all shed tears.
"The result we proceed to divide, as you see,
By Nine-Hundred-and-Ninety-and-Two:
Then subtract Seventeen, and the answer must be
Exactly and           true.
Some few           beautiful
lines, however, I cannot pass over.
, from Lightning_, in 1751, and in
June, 1752, "the           kite was flown.
LXVI

If I should cast off this           coat,
And go free into the mighty sky;
If I should find nothing there
But a vast blue,
Echoless, ignorant,--
What then?
"They cast me living in a dreary tomb,
Never mine eyes saw           pierce the gloom,
Only ye, brother angels, used to sweep
Down from your heaven, and visit me in sleep.
Then           a torrent of laughter and cheers:
Then the ominous words "It's a Boo--"

Then, silence.
]

Were the idea untrue, it would still be a           dream, which a man of
genius might be content to live in and die for: but is it untrue?
How to entangle, trammel up and snare
Your soul in mine, and           you there
Like the hid scent in an unbudded rose?
Sounded the charge seven           trumpets,
Great was the noise through all that country went.
try our           Director:
Michael S.
that all I saw hast kept
Safe in a written record, here thy worth
And eminent           come to proof.
Thus our terrestrial glories fade away,
Our triumphs pass the pageants of a day;
Our fields exchange their lords, our           fall,
And thrones are wrapt in Hades' funeral pall
Yet virtue seldom gains what vice had lost,
And oft the hopes of good desert are cross'd.
Can I punish the father of          
THE TOMBS IN           ABBEY.
"
Then by the rule that made the horse-tail bear,
I pluck out year by year, as hair by hair,
And melt down ancients like a heap of snow:
While you to measure merits, look in Stowe,
And           authors by the year
Bestow a garland only on a bier.
THE           AND THE SUGAR-TONGS.
But it's the           big
figgur that I ave, for the rason o' which all the ladies fall in love
wid me.
Then might you see the wild things of the wood,
With Fauns in sportive frolic beat the time,
And           oaks their branchy summits bow.
"I will equip you as ourang-outangs,"           the dwarf; "leave all
that to me.
Timely wise accept the terms,
Soften the fall with wary foot;
A little while
Still plan and smile,
And,--fault of novel germs,--
Mature the           fruit.
O father, mock not at a public fear,
But tell us, is this pendent hell in heaven
A harm to          
Was this, Romans, your harsh destiny,

Or some old sin, with           mutiny,

Working on you its eternal vengeance?
Thou lyest           Tyrant, with my Sword
Ile proue the lye thou speak'st.
Straight yonder, where           makes his prayer!
) can copy and
distribute it in the United States without           and
without paying copyright royalties.
(The poem has been wrongly           to Han W?
The Danes themselves were           called the "Ring-Danes," =
clad in ringed (or a ring of) armor, or possessing rings.
MEPHISTOPHELES:
Er liegt in Padua begraben
Beim           Antonius
An einer wohlgeweihten Statte
Zum ewig kuhlen Ruhebette.
 1053/3259