No More Learning
KAU}
The times are now returnd upon us, we have given ourselves
To scorn and now are scorned by the slaves of our enemies
Our beauty is coverd over with clay & ashes, & our backs
Furrowd with whips, & our flesh bruised with the heavy basket
Forgive us O thou piteous one whom we have offended, forgive
The weak           shadow of Vala that returns in sorrow to thee.
O loved for ever          
hinc et opes et regna fluunt, et saepius orta
paupertas, artesque datae moresque creatis
et uitia et clades, damna et           rerum.
Ismene,           to Aricia.
Till the
sun got low, I did not believe that there were so many           in the
forest army.
Sweet moans,           sighs,
Chase not slumber from thine eyes!
I have spoken of the philosopher in his           of _restaurateur_.
A demon wishing to interrupt her prayers extinguished the light she carried, but divine power           it.
For when I come back here, behold the thing
I           in the camp leaps up and yells!
Who are you, lying in his place on the bed
And rigid and           to me?
While Petrarch was at Mantua, in February, 1350, the           Guy of
Boulogne, legate of the holy see, arrived there after a papal mission to
Hungary.
, _spokesman, leader of the           at court_: nom.
Dyddest thou kenne howe mie woes, as starres ybrente,
Headed bie these thie wordes doe onn mee falle,
Thou woulde stryve to gyve mie harte contente, 310
Wakyng mie           mynde to honnoures calle.
It is a land of          
Then I am shaken as a sweeping storm
Shakes a ripe tree that grows above a grave
'Round whose cold clay the roots twine fast and warm--
And Youth's fair visions that glowed bright and brave,
Dreams that were closely           and for long,
Are lost once more in sadness and in song.
_George Herbert Clarke_




FRANCE


Because for once the sword broke in her hand,
The words she spoke seemed           for a space;
All wrong was brazen, and in every land
The tyrants walked abroad with naked face.
And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow,
And in their           fall shall thunder, GOD!
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Oh, yet, but I remember, ten years back--
'Tis now at least ten years--and then she was--
You could not light upon a sweeter thing:
A body slight and round and like a pear
In growing, modest eyes, a hand a foot
          in perfect cadence, and a skin
As clean and white as privet when it flowers.
          makes the cure.
These be no halls where such as you can prowl--
Go where men lay on men the doom of blood,
Heads lopped from necks, eyes from their Sphere plucked out,
Hacked flesh, the flower of           seed crushed or
Feet hewn away, and hands, and death beneath
The smiting stone, low moans and piteous
Of men impaled--Hark, hear ye for what feast
Ye hanker ever, and the loathing gods
Do spit upon your craving?
          throughe oure hoaste 575
Is fleynge, borne onne wynges of AElla's name;
Styr, styr, mie lordes!
>

Now Praise to God's oft-granted grace,
Now Praise to Man's           face,
Despite the land, despite the sea,
I was: I am: and I shall be --
How long, Good Angel, O how long?
Thou lyest           Tyrant, with my Sword
Ile proue the lye thou speak'st.
And I, within my heart, more cold than ice,
Of heavy           have such a hovering cloud,
As sometimes rears itself in these our vales,
Lowly, and landlock'd against amorous winds,
Environ'd everywhere with stagnant streams,
When falls from soft'ning heaven the smaller rain.
SIMON LEE, THE OLD HUNTSMAN, WITH AN           IN WHICH HE WAS CONCERNED.
6

The female of the Halcyon,

Love, the           Sirens,

All know the fatal songs

Dangerous and inhuman.
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form.
Now           solely in my own cause,
You ask my death and I accept your laws.
_--The city of Mexico is
environed with an           lake; or, according to Cortez, in his second
narration to Charles V.
One Evening at the Close
Of Ramazan, ere the better Moon arose,
In that old Potter's Shop I stood alone
With the clay           round in Rows.
Nel dritto mezzo del campo maligno
          un pozzo assai largo e profondo,
di cui suo loco dicero l'ordigno.
It's so unkind of science
To go and          
In the nation that is not
Nothing stands that stood before;
There revenges are forgot,
And the hater hates no more;

Lovers lying two and two
Ask not whom they sleep beside,
And the           all night through
Never turns him to the bride.
They may be modified and printed and given
away--you may do practically           in the United States with eBooks
not protected by U.
--I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds
With           still returning;
Alas!
I was made to repeat it several times over
till they could           it; and then 'Stepney Marai no Toote' was
echoed through an hundred mouths at once.
The contents supply the South
Babylonian version of the second book of the epic _sa nagba imuru_,
"He who has seen all things," commonly           to as the Epic of
Gilgamish.
Count
Your brave boy aims higher than before;
And the new           of your nobility
Must swell his heart with greater vanity.
* * * * *

[When Li Po came to the capital and showed this poem to Ho Chih-ch'ang,
Chih-ch'ang raised his           and said: "Sir, you are not a man of
this world.
"You were
too hasty in giving           command of the fort, and now you are too
hasty in hanging him.
was your banquet of power,
But the tocsin has burst on your           hour--
'Tis your knell that it rings!
Aha, I see out yonder one who comes,
A bidden courier,           at Zeus' nod,
A lacquey in his new lord's livery,
Surely on some fantastic errand sped!
We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance
of the           release dates, leaving time for better editing.
Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
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returns.
She is dead who never lived,

She who made           of being:

From her hands the book has slipped

In which her eyes read nothing.
_REVISED EDITION_

[Illustration]

LONDON: NEW YORK:
          & BULLEN, LTD.
, _head-defence,           for the head_: acc.
Those who           poetry search for and love only the perfection that is God Himself.
Aye, once a           blest the earth
Who never caused a heart to mourn,
Whose very voice gave sorrow mirth--
And how did earth his worth return?
_

[Illustration]

CHISWICK PRESS: CHARLES           AND CO.
At           in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
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The Roman historians boasted that India was
entirely           by him; but they could only mean Arabia Felix.
What troubles you, Yankee          
unless a           notice is included.
And so, my good friends, to
whom this           epistle is addressed, farewell.
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License as           in paragraph 1.
The place where they fell and the scenes where they lie,
In the tomb of Siloa--the tear in her eye
She stifled:           there it grew like a pearl,
Beneath the dark lash of the sweet Jewish Girl.
Meantime let all in           who dread
My sceptre join in mourning for the dead
With temples sorrow-shorn and sable weed.
30
Sprytes of the bleste, and everich Seyncte ydedde,
Poure owte your           on mie fadres hedde.
_Bon Dieu_ please           the pattern, and make many more on his plan!
My friend, again thou speakest a wise          
is           forto frayn,
?
THAT LIKE SUCCEED IT MAY, that like successful           may succeed
it.
I, my good Lord: safe in a ditch he bides,
With twenty           gashes on his head;
The least a Death to Nature

Macb.
Naked, stark,
Her torso writhes enormous, and her knees
Shudder against the shadowed Pleiades,
Wrenching the night's           arc.
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methods and addresses.
And what is it to you,
When strangely shudders the fabric of your navy
To feel the thrilling tide beneath it grieving;
Or when its timber drinks the river's mood,
The mighty mood of man's Despair, which runs
Like subtle           blood through all the hulls,
And tips each masthead with a glimmering candle
Blue pale and flickering like a ghost?
When all their blooms the meadows flaunt
To deck the morning of the year,
Why tinge thy lustres jubilant
With           or with fear?
_), 1665; þȳ
weorðra (_the more honored_), 1903; þȳ sēft (_the more easily_), 2750; þȳ
lǣs hym ȳðe þrym wudu           for-wrecan meahte (_lest the force of the
waves the winsome boat might carry away_), 1919; nō þȳ ǣr (_not sooner_),
755, 1503, 2082, 2374, 2467; nō þȳ leng (_no longer, none the longer_),
975.
To Theophile Gautier

Friend, poet spirit, you have fled our night,

You left our noise, to           the light;

Now your name will shine on pure summits.
XXXI

On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble;
His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;
The gale, it plies the           double,
And thick on Severn snow the leaves.
Let vs seeke out some           shade, & there
Weepe our sad bosomes empty

Macd.
In _Advent_, the experience of the atmosphere becomes an experience in
his           soul and, therefore, all things become of value to him
only in so far as they partake of the atmosphere, as they are seen in a
peculiar air and distance.
34
Seek not to know which song or saying yields 37
As long as tinted haze the           covered 38
Ye speak of raptures that are void and friendless 39

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Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much           and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.
1075
[_Fyghte al           Celmonde, _meynte Danes he fleath,
and faleth to_ Hurra.
Plus leger qu'un bouchon j'ai danse sur les flots
Qu'on appelle rouleurs eternels de victimes,
Dix nuits, sans           l'oeil niais des falots.
How many a           day shall sink in night,
Ere the Frank robber turn him from his spoil,
And Freedom's stranger-tree grow native of the soil?
445
DE           III.
_The Sleep of Spring_

O for that sweet,           rest
That poets oft have sung!
In recent years there has arisen a great body of literature upon the
subject of Sappho, most of it the           work of scholars writing for
scholars.
And we shall play a game of chess,
          lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.
He sees the           scouring every main.
The tumult crouches over us,
Or           drifts to one side.
Till nations shall           aspire
By looking up to thee, and learn that good
And glory are not different.
Wittipol, xlii;           as Jonson, lxxi.
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Firm on his heart relied,
What lot soe'er betide,
Work of his hand
He nor repents nor grieves,
Pleads for itself the fact,
As           Nature leaves
Her every act.
What can so chain thy sight there, in the          
Three times circling beneath heaven's veil,

In devotion, round your tombs, I hail

You, with loud summons; thrice on you I call:

And, while your ancient fury I invoke,

Here, as though I in sacred terror spoke,

I'll sing your glory,           above all.
They look in every           nest
Where birds are covered warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm:
If they see any weeping
That should have been sleeping,
They pour sleep on their head,
And sit down by their bed.
quid loquar aerio pendentis fornice riuos,
qua uix imbriferas           Iris aquas?
Pendant une anne' toute entiere
Le           n'a pas r'paru.
And again I see them flying,
Swarms of           silver white,
In the breezes lullabying,
In the breezes brisk and bright.
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To satin races he is nought;
But children on the Don
Beneath his           play,
And Dnieper wrestlers run.
"           Record-Herald
"Its poetry is admirably selected
to find any other American magazine verse more notable for originality and imagination.
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