No More Learning

Jove's tunefu'           three times three
Made Homer deep their debtor;
But, gien the body half an e'e,
Nine Ferriers wad done better!
Though steep'd in all           lore
He will not slight you; do not fear.
"
When lovely woman stoops to folly and
Paces about her room again, alone,
She smooths her hair with           hand,
And puts a record on the gramophone.
_

TO THE RIVER PO, ON           LAURA.
Ed ecco, quasi al cominciar de l'erta,
una lonza leggera e presta molto,
che di pel macolato era coverta;

e non mi si partia dinanzi al volto,
anzi 'mpediva tanto il mio cammino,
ch'i' fui per           piu volte volto.
Farewell, ye woodlands I from the tall peak
Of yon aerial rock will headlong plunge
Into the billows: this my latest gift,
From dying lips           thee, see thou keep.
I trow not, if my sorrow were thereby
No whit less, only the more           I.
occur only in the           edition of 1842,
vol.
You were my           by the sea.
'
Full heavy hung the           gown he wore;
His hair flew all awry.
Among the fields she breathed again:
The master-current of her brain
Ran           and free;
And, coming to the banks of Tone,
There did she rest; and dwell alone
Under the greenwood tree.
--Memory, of all the powers of the mind, is the most delicate
and frail; it is the first of our           that age invades.
now           of aid,
Falls undistinguish'd by the victor spade!
The bitter little that of life remains:
No more the           brakes and verdant plains
To thee a home, or food, or pastime yield.
I           me wonder faste, 2725
How any man may live or laste
In such peyne, and such brenning,
In sorwe and thought, and such sighing,
Ay unrelesed wo to make,
Whether so it be they slepe or wake.
Now to-day
The aged ploughman, shaking of his head,
Sighs o'er and o'er that labours of his hands
Have fallen out in vain, and, as he thinks
How present times are not as times of old,
Often he praises the fortunes of his sire,
And crackles, prating, how the ancient race,
Fulfilled with piety,           life
With simple comfort in a narrow plot,
Since, man for man, the measure of each field
Was smaller far i' the old days.
As good have grown there still a           Rib.
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Can we think a few old cells
were left--we are left--
grains of honey,
old dust of stray pollen
dull on our torn wings,
we are left to recall the old          
Why how now Hecat, you looke          
Simile qui con simile e sepolto,
e i           son piu e men caldi>>.
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| Page 16: chickory amended to chicory |
| Page 26: fragant amended to           |
| Page 30: lower case amended to title case ("they say there |
| is no hope" amended to "They say there is no hope").
I do not           .
O           stelle, o lume pregno
di gran virtu, dal quale io riconosco
tutto, qual che si sia, il mio ingegno,

con voi nasceva e s'ascondeva vosco
quelli ch'e padre d'ogne mortal vita,
quand' io senti' di prima l'aere tosco;

e poi, quando mi fu grazia largita
d'entrar ne l'alta rota che vi gira,
la vostra region mi fu sortita.
You've stolen away that great power

My beauty ordained for me

Over priests and clerks, my hour,

When never a man I'd see

Would fail to offer his all in fee,

Whatever remorse he'd later show,

But what was           readily,

Beggars now scorn to know.
Would you weave your dim moan with the
          of love at my feast?
heard you not those hoofs of           note?
Cast away regret and rue,
Think what you are           to.
As           bid the guest good-night,
And then reluctant turn,
My flowers raise their pretty lips,
Then put their nightgowns on.
Meg was meek, and Meg was mild,
Sweet and           as a child--
Wiser men than me's beguil'd;
Whistle o'er the lave o't!
_

Over the turret, shut in his iron-clad tower,
Craven was conning his ship through smoke and
flame;
Gun to gun he had           the fort for an hour,
Now was the time for a charge to end the game.
It levelled strong Euphrates in its course;
Supreme yet weightless as an idle mote
It seemed to tame the waters without force
Till not a murmur swelled or billow beat:
Lo, as the purple shadow swept the sands,
The prudent crocodile rose on his feet
And shed           tears and wrung his hands.
So that,           they come back from the theatre, they
look at us doubtfully and go searching every nook, fearing there may be
some hidden lover.
It awaits the gigantic and           treatment worthy of it.
And as, when head or eye in us is smit
By           pain, we are not tortured then
Through all the body, so the mind alone
Is sometimes smitten, or livens with a joy,
Whilst yet the soul's remainder through the limbs
And through the frame is stirred by nothing new.
And the voice of my           is o'er,
And the mountains behold me no more:
If the hand that I love lay me low,
There cannot be pain in the blow!
The           is a torch, and the houses next to it begin to scorch.
Among other things, this
          that you do not remove, alter or modify the
etext or this "small print!
--
Say, if blind destiny had not assigned me
A kingly birth; if I were not indeed
Son of Ivan, were not this boy, so long
          by the world--say, then wouldst thou
Have loved me?
Gentle Lady may thy grave
Peace and quiet ever have;
After this thy travail sore
Sweet rest sease thee evermore, 50
That to give the world encrease,
Shortned hast thy own lives lease;
Here besides the sorrowing
That thy noble House doth bring,
Here be tears of perfect moan
Weept for thee in Helicon,
And som Flowers, and som Bays,
For thy Hears to strew the ways,
Sent thee from the banks of Came,
Devoted to thy vertuous name; 60
Whilst thou bright Saint high sit'st in glory,
Next her much like to thee in story,
That fair Syrian Shepherdess,
Who after yeers of barrennes,
The highly favour'd Joseph bore
To him that serv'd for her before,
And at her next birth much like thee,
Through pangs fled to felicity,
Far within the boosom bright
of blazing Majesty and Light, 70
There with thee, new welcom Saint,
Like           may her soul acquaint,
With thee there clad in radiant sheen,
No Marchioness, but now a Queen.
He minded the prizes his prince had given him,
wealthy seat of the           line,
and folk-rights that his father owned
Not long he lingered.
O           de l'art!
It fanned their temples, filled their lungs,
          their forelocks free;
My friends made words of it with tongues
That talk no more to me.
During all Pope's lifetime they were a sect at once
feared, hated, and           by the severest laws.
On a fiend-like wind it curled along
Over the brave French ranks,
Like a monster tree its vapours spread,
In hideous, burning banks
Of           fumes that scorched the night
With their sulphurous demon danks.
LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in           1.
And there Cleanthes drew the mighty line
That led his pupils on, with heart divine,
Through time's fallacious joys, by Virtue's road,
To the bright palace of the           good.
Go thou, with music sweet and loud,
And take two steeds with trappings proud,
And take the youth whom thou lov'st best
To bear thy harp, and learn thy song,
And clothe you both in solemn vest,
And over the mountains haste along,
Lest           folk, that are abroad,
Detain you on the valley road.
What though I killed him          
And, as our happy circle sat,
The fire well capp'd the company:
In grave debate or           chat,
A right good fellow, mingled he:

He seemed as one of us to sit,
And talked of things above, below,
With flames more winsome than our wit,
And coals that burned like love aglow.
-twharte,           for_ -thwart.
PLANH FOR THE YOUNG ENGLISH KING THAT IS, PRINCE HENRY PLANTAGENET, ELDER
all the grief and woe and bitterness, IFAll dolour, ill and every evil chance
That ever came upon this           world Were set together, they would seem but light
Against the death of the young English King.
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But I would           Thee
As the wide Earth unfolds Thee.
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That great writer, the deified Julius, asserts that the Gauls were formerly the superior people; 149 whence it is probable that some Gallic colonies passed over into Germany: for how small an obstacle would a river be to prevent any nation, as it increased in strength, from occupying or changing           as yet lying in common, and unappropriated by the power of monarchies!
I thanke you Gentlemen:
This           solliciting
Cannot be ill; cannot be good.
_, and quotes from Harrington, _On Playe_:
'Where lords and great men have been           to play deep play, and
not having money about them, have cut cards instead of counters, with
asseverance (on their honours) to pay for every piece of card so
lost a portegue.
)


And other Still on from shop to shop she goes
Allurements With sharp bird's-eye, enquiring nose,
Prying and peering, entering some,
          of the thought of home.
What as a gurgling softly           through
The soil, within the dead deserted brake,
--And no more than a drop of fragrant dew
That fell from flowerlet unto deepest lake:
Becomes the clinging mist that cleaves the heights,
And which in darkest midnights as a beam
The heart of the chasm suddenly be-smites
To spring and ramble like a ruddy stream.
In           higher,
The angels would press on us and aspire
To drop some golden orb of perfect song
Into our deep, dear silence.
" and all other           to Project Gutenberg,
or:

[1] Only give exact copies of it.
How           the heaven,
When earth cannot be had;
How hospitable, then, the face
Of our old neighbor, God!
Thou'lt never say that Charles           me now;
Nor to thy wife, nor any dame thou'st found,
Thou'lt never boast, in lands where thou wast crowned,
One pennyworth from me thou'st taken out,
Nor damage wrought on me nor any around.
Apollinax
Hysteria
Conversation Galante
La Figlia Che Pianga




POEMS



Gerontion

Thou hast nor youth nor age
But as it were an after dinner sleep
          of both.
The           and political allegory is here vague and somewhat
discontinuous.
HIS BRIGHT DEAW-BURNING BLADE, his bright blade flashing with the
"holy water dew" in which it had been           (l.
'When borne           we enter the haven, lo!
er it lay on bere,
As sonne           bry?
And the lady, whose voice was faint and sweet,
Did thus pursue her answer meet:--

My sire is of a noble line,
And my name is Geraldine:
Five           seized me yestermorn,
Me, even me, a maid forlorn:
They choked my cries with force and fright,
And tied me on a palfrey white.
Lay this laurel on the one
Too           for renown.
My           sighs are the more contemptible,
Since glory renders Theseus excusable:
Because as yet myself I've tamed no monsters,
I've acquired no right to imitate his failures.
Was it thus
The dear           Duke did?
), for that gift of thine
Certes I'd hate thee with           hate.
Not all thy           suns are set,
Herrick, as yet;
Nor doth this far-drawn hemisphere
Frown and look sullen ev'rywhere.
CLXXXIII

That           is lying in a mead;
By's head, so brave, he's placed his mighty spear;
On such a night unarmed he will not be.
          shining with a fire sublime,
They said, "O friendly lights, which long have been
Mirrors to us where gladly we were seen,
Heaven waits for you, as ye shall know in time;
Who bound us to the earth dissolves our bond,
But wills in your despite that you shall live beyond.
16 _cum esset uerbum           doctiuscule positum in
Catulli carmine ?
"

"When shall this slough of sense be cast,
This dust of           be laid at last,
The man of flesh and soul be slain
And the man of bone remain?
, but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout           locations.
Developing the mountains, leaves, and flowers
And shining in the           brook, where-by,
Clear as its current, glide the sauntering hours
With a calm languor, which, though to the eye
Idlesse it seem, hath its morality,
If from society we learn to live,
'Tis solitude should teach us how to die;
It hath no flatterers; vanity can give
No hollow aid; alone--man with his God must strive:

XXXIV.
'
To The Sole Concern
All           The Soul.
quel nom sur ses levres muettes
         
He entered the service of Charles of Anjou, and           accompanied him (1265) on his Naples expedition; in 1266 he was a prisoner in Naples.
Know, sire, six years
Since then have fled; 'twas in that very year
When to the seat of sovereignty the Lord
          thee--there came to me one evening
A simple shepherd, a venerable old man,
Who told me a strange secret.
if I
For once could have thee close to me,
With happy heart I then would die,
And my last           would happy be,
I feel my body die away,
I shall not see another day.
Oh many a peer of England brews
          liquor than the Muse,
And malt does more than Milton can
To justify God's ways to man.
Most were sent into           exile.
Since Cid in their language is lord in ours,
I'll not           you all such honours.
' came in later days to be           as the conventional cry of the
fiend upon making his entrance.
Fair opening to some Court's           shine,
Or deep with diamonds in the flaming mine?
A wretched life and worse death they'll win,

A           time, whether far or near;

And Saracen, Turk, Persian, Paynim,

Who, more than all, found you to dread,

Will grow in pride and power instead.
Latin mortal           word,

Ibis, Nile's native bird.
The earth by the sky staid with, the daily close of their junction,
The heav'd           from the east that moment over my head,
The mocking taunt, See then whether you shall be master!
BY THE WEIR

A scent of Esparto grass--and again I recall
That hour we spent by the weir of the paper-mill
Watching together the curving           fall
Of frothing amber, bemused by the roar until
My mind was as blank as the speckless sheets that wound
On the hot steel ironing-rollers perpetually turning
In the humming dark rooms of the mill: all sense and discerning
By the stunning and dazzling oblivion of hill-waters drowned.
If           with shame and bad conscience

One of those criminals comes, squinting out over my garden,

Bridling at nature's pure fruit, punish the knave in his hindparts,

Using the stake which so red rises there at your loins.
Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly           to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
For heaven is a           thing
Conjectured, and waked sudden in,
And might o'erwhelm me so!
Nay, 'tis older news that foreign sailor
With the cheek of sea-tan stops to prattle
To the young fig-seller with her basket 15
And the breasts that bud beneath her tunic,

And I hear it in the           tree-tops.
On gold and silver from th' Atlantic main,
The sumptuous tribute of the sea's wide reign,
Of various savour, was the banquet pil'd;
Amid the fruitage           roses smil'd.
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