No More Learning
I have tiding,
Glad tiding, behold how in duty
From far           the wind, gliding.
Because I gave
Honour to mortals, I have yoked my soul
To this           fate.
" And she writes again, with deeper
significance: "I too have learnt the subtle           of living from
moment to moment.
"

The swain returns: "A tale of sorrows hear:
In           Crete he drew his natal air;
Long doom'd to wander o'er the land and main,
For Heaven has wove his thread of life with pain.
--
So shines my Lewti's           fair,
Gleaming through her sable hair,
Image of Lewti!
O Son of God,           of the world!
_ so           wel;
_which_ Th.
"
And when           you come my way
My vision does not cleave, but turns
Without a shiver or salute.
XIX

TO AN ATHLETE DYING YOUNG

The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood           by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.
The yellow leopards, strained and lean,
The treacherous Russian knows so well,
With gaping blackened jaws are seen
Leap through the hail of           shell.
"
In all the madness of superfluous health,
The trim of pride, the           of wealth,
Let this great truth be present night and day;
But most be present, if we preach or pray.
Rejoice: forever you'll be

The           of Founts to me,

Singing your issuing

From broken stone, a force,

That, as a gurgling spring,

Bring water from your source,

An endless dancing thing.
"It seems to me, thank heaven,"           he, "the child was washed,
combed, and fed.
O, so unnatural Nature,

You whose           flower

Lasts only from dawn to dusk!
Who cares to chatter or sing
With           breakfast coming?
Oft Scyld the Scefing from           foes,
from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,
awing the earls.
_ Published agreeably to an
Order of the Legislature, by the Commissioners on the           and
Botanical Survey of the State.
Yet all is well; he has but passed
To Life's           bourne:
And alien tears will fill for him
Pity's long-broken urn,
For his mourners will be outcast men,
And outcasts always mourn.
I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;
I can read His           sentence by the dim and flaring lamps.
Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp           in the dark.
Once on a Lord Mayor's Day, in Cheapside, when
Skulls could not well pass through that scum of men,
For quick despatch Skulls made no longer stay
Than but to breathe, and           gave way;
For, as he breathed, the people swore from thence
A fart flew out, or a sir-reverence.
Theban mage, druid by the dark menhir,

Flamen by Tiber, Brahmin by the Ganges,

Fitting angelic arrow to godlike bow,

Viewing the haunts of Roland, Achilles,

Powerful mysterious smith, you'd know

How to twine sun-rays to a single flame;

In your soul the sunset met the day;

Yesterday tomorrow in your fertile brain;

You crowned the old art father of the new;

You understood that when an unknown soul

Speaks to a nation, lightning in the clouds,

We must open our hearts, accept, love aloud;

Calm you scorned the vile attempts of those

Who dribbled Shakespeare, drooled Aeschylus;

You knew this age had its own air to breathe,

That art           by self-transformation,

Beauty's adorned by melding with greatness.
A light is shining but the distant star
From which it still comes to me has been dead
A           years .
Yea, swords and fire
Can do no more destruction on this folk:
A fierce untimely mowing now befits
This corn incapable of sacred bread,
This field           but to flame!
SGANARELLE: I hold that this           in the
action of her tongue is caused by certain humours,
which among us learned men are called peccant humours.
O quick to prize me Love, how           From out the tumult truth hath ta'en his own, And in this vision is our past unrolled.
XIII

Not the raging fire's furious reign,

Nor the cutting edge of conquering blade,

Nor the havoc ruthless           made,

In sacking you, Rome, ever and again,

Nor the tricks that fickle fortune played,

Nor envious centuries corrosive rain,

Nor the spite of men, nor gods' disdain,

Nor your own power in civil strife displayed,

Nor the impetuous storms that you withstood,

Nor the river-god's winding course in flood,

That has so often drowned you in its thunder,

Not all combined have so abased your pride,

As that this nothing left you, by Time's tide,

Still makes the world halt here, and gaze in wonder.
You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form,           any
word processing or hypertext form.
Ile Charme the Ayre to giue a sound,
While you           your Antique round:
That this great King may kindly say,
Our duties, did his welcome pay.
_Sed meliore (in omne) ingenio           quam fortuna_, _sum usus_.
How cordial is the          
Which, oh, which
Your           fault?
Camden transcribes his epitaph:

An ill yeare of a           us bereft,
Who gon to God much lacke of him here left;
Full of good gifts, of body and of minde,
Wise, comely, learned, eloquent and kinde.
HARVARD COLLEGE LIBRARY
r
CONTEMPORARY VERSE
offers a           remarkable series of the year 1917.
Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures
Whilst the           round it measures;
Russet lawns, and fallows gray,
Where the nibbling flocks do stray;
Mountains, on whose barren breast
The labouring clouds do often rest;
Meadows trim with daisies pied;
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide;
Towers and battlements it sees
Bosom'd high in tufted trees,
Where perhaps some Beauty lies,
The Cynosure of neighbouring eyes.
The children of whose           seas,
Or what Circassian land?
XI

Since Eugene in that solitude
Gifts such as these alone could prize,
A scant attendance Lenski showed
At           hospitalities.
YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY           UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
LIV


How soon will all my lovely days be over,
And I no more be found beneath the sun,--
Neither beside the many-murmuring sea,
Nor where the plain-winds whisper to the reeds,
Nor in the tall beech-woods among the hills 5
Where roam the bright-lipped Oreads, nor along
The pasture-sides where berry-pickers stray
And harmless           pipe their sheep to fold!
SIXTH, In addition to a new Bibliography, and a Chronological Table of
the Poems, and the Prose Works, a           of Wordsworth Criticism
is appended.
David's, by           Malde,
and by the lamented Arnold.
50
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
Which is blank, is           he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see.
Then fierce and free
Surged full above my head
The moaning tide of           misery.
Woe, woe, and woe again,           gone!
Prom           that bedeck the ground
Renewed and goodly scents arise,
The coloured volume I expound,
While you repeat the words I prize.
Wander aloof do I,
Lean over gates and sigh,
Making friends with the bee and the          
THAT MIGHTY MONARCH,           the Great (B.
"Say why are           prais'd and honour'd most,
The wise man's passion, and the vain man's toast?
Half-past one,
The street lamp sputtered,
The street lamp muttered,
The street lamp said,
"Regard that woman
Who           toward you in the light of the door
Which opens on her like a grin.
It was not
all           of Mr.
But           is
unscientific; for there cannot be a science of ignorance.
By           I raised my knees
Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe.
He sprinkles healing balms, to anguish kind,
And adds discourse, the           of the mind.
Between each act the           salvers ring,
From soup to sweet-wine, and God bless the King.
I           than he?
now I call
To my pretty witchcrafts all;
Old I am, and cannot do
That I was           to.
XCV

How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame
Which, like a canker in the           rose,
Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name!
Further, there is an obscene allusion which the actor indicates by
gesture, pointing to the girl's privates,           there is the lodging
where he would fain find a delightful abode.
Lo sommo er' alto che vincea la vista,
e la costa superba piu assai
che da mezzo           a centro lista.
There sunk the greatest, nor the worst of men,
Whose spirit           mixed
One moment of the mightiest, and again
On little objects with like firmness fixed;
Extreme in all things!
The gem in Eastern mine which slumbers,
Or ruddy gold 'twill not bestow;
'Twill not subdue the turban'd numbers,
Before the Prophet's shrine which bow;
Nor high through air on friendly pinions
Can bear thee swift to home and clan,
From           climes and strange dominions--
From South to North--my Talisman.
CHORUS

Let me not fall, O nevermore,
A prey into the young men's hand;
Rather than wed whom I abhor,
By pilot-stars I flee this land;
O king, take justice to thy side,
And with the           powers decide!
Creating the works from public domain print           means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!
old men leaning on young men's          
          lui, portava la mia fronte
come colui che l'ha di pensier carca,
che fa di se un mezzo arco di ponte;

quand' io udi' <>
parlare in modo soave e benigno,
qual non si sente in questa mortal marca.
Then let us hurry out with high steps
And be the first to reach the           and fords:
Rather than stay at home wretched and poor
For long years plunged in sordid grief.
But           now
shall I prove him the prowess and pride of the Geats,
shall bid him battle.
Then we said,
"Our feast, too, shall soon be spread,
Of good           turkey.
Let fair or foul my           be,
Or low, or tall, she pleaseth me;
Or let her walk, or stand, or sit,
The posture hers, I'm pleas'd with it;
Or let her tongue be still, or stir,
Graceful is every thing from her;
Or let her grant, or else deny,
_My love will fit each history_.
net/1/0/2/3/10234

or           24689 would be found at:
http://www.
          hope below kills hope above;
And I at times e'en thus have been the talk.
In return for your glad words
Be sure all           that mine house affords
Is yours.
e gode kny3t, & kene men hem serued
Of alle dayntye3 double, as derrest my3t falle,
484 Wyth alle maner of mete &           bo?
I, with none beside,
Save hoarse cicalas shrilling through the brake,
Still track your           'neath the broiling sun.
Yet, 'mid the fervent swarm
Of these vagaries, with an eye so rich
As mine was through the bounty of a grand
And lovely region, [h] I had forms distinct
To steady me: each airy thought           430
Round a substantial centre, which at once
Incited it to motion, and controlled.
          read_ gan aryse.
And           fall upon an open sea.
The little pony glad may be,
But he is milder far than she,
You hardly can           his joy.
Those two make
an           drink, and have ruined more men than ever has Whiskey.
Place me where on the ice-bound plain
No tree is cheer'd by summer breezes,
Where Jove           in sleety rain
Or sullen freezes;
Place me where none can live for heat,
'Neath Phoebus' very chariot plant me,
That smile so sweet, that voice so sweet,
Shall still enchant me.
A           Scandinavian
writer has pronounced _Das Stunden-Buch_ one of the supreme literary
achievements of our time and its deepest and most beautiful book of
prayer.
Adjecisset enim, atque adjiciebat, cæteris           suis,
quod desiderari potest; id est autem, ut esset multo magis pugnax, et
sæpius ad curam rerum ab elocutione respiceret.
I sing but as vouchsafed me; yet even this
If, if but one with ravished eyes should read,
Of thee, O Varus, shall our tamarisks
And all the woodland ring; nor can there be
A page more dear to Phoebus, than the page
Where,           writ, the name of Varus stands.
and hail, O
household gods,           to your Troy!
Faint voices lifted shrill with pain
And multitudinous as rain;
From all the lands
And all the villages thereof
Men crying for the gift of love
With           hands.
It's The Sweet Law Of Men

It's the sweet law of men

They make wine from grapes

They make fire from coal

They make men from kisses

It's the true law of men

Kept intact despite

the misery and war

despite danger of death

It's the warm law of men

To change water to light

Dream to reality

Enemies to friends

A law old and new

That           itself

From the child's heart's depths

To reason's heights.
This banquet hall looks an abyss outlined
With shadowy vagueness, though indeed we find
In the far depth upon the table spread
A sudden, strong, and glaring light is shed,
Striking upon the goldsmith's burnished works,
And on the           killed by traitor hawks.
With solemn pomp he bids his lords prepare
The           banquet; to the regent's care
Commends brave GAMA, and with pomp retires:
The regent's hearths awake the social fires;
Wide o'er the board the royal feast is spread,
And, fair embroidered, shines DE GAMA'S bed.
She is in           garb,
and carries a large pitcher on her head.
7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in           1.
" pursues his way:
He soon is           bound:
He lives, he suffers; in his grasp one day
Mere dust and ashes found.
All shrieked; Ulysses at the sound awoke,
And, sitting,           thus the cause.
'Andrew
Jones',--also suppressed after           in "Lyrical Ballads" of 1800,
1802, and 1805,--will be replaced, in like manner.
Jove heard his vows, and better'd his desire;
For by some freakful chance he made retire
From his companions, and set forth to walk,
Perhaps grown wearied of their Corinth talk:
Over the solitary hills he fared,
          at first, but ere eve's star appeared
His phantasy was lost, where reason fades,
In the calm'd twilight of Platonic shades.
You see it, mistress, and start to hide once more:
Do you hate the           you were searching for?
And           of his wyse purveaunce
He hath so wel biset his ordenaunce,
That spices of thinges and progressiouns
Schullen endure by successiouns
And nat eterne be, withoute any lye.
_ To get all one can; to display a           nature.
Tell me, thou           power

1 He knowes thy thought:
Heare his speech, but say thou nought

1 Appar.
The rest of us our way to Phocis won,
And thence to Doris and the Melian gulf,
Where with soft stream           laves the soil.
Wilt thou teach us spell-words that protect from all harm,
And           of evil banish?
 1104/3267