No More Learning
And, when the
winter comes on, we turn the bottles upside down, and           rarely
feel the cold at all; and you know very well that this could not be the
case with bottles of any other color than blue.
And gently,

Unbroken when the sky fills with storm,

Jealous to add who knows what spaces

To simple day the day so true in feeling,

Does it not seem, Mery, that each year,

Where           grace relights your brow,

Suffices, given so much wonder and for me,

Like a lone fan with which a room's surprised,

To refresh with as little pain as is needed here

All our inborn and unvarying friendship.
When he came into the house I           he had some scraps of paper in
his hand, and these he was quietly thrusting behind the books.
In the case of the
present author, there was           no choice in the matter; she
must write thus, or not at all.
Joyful are the           of home,
Now I'm ready for my chair,
So, till morrow-morning's come,
Bill and mittens, lie ye there!
We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was           visible,
The cornice but a mound.
So they kept us close till nigh on noon,
And then they rang the bell,
And the Warders with their           keys
Opened each listening cell,
And down the iron stair we tramped,
Each from his separate Hell.
ECLOGUE IV

POLLIO

Muses of Sicily, essay we now
A           loftier task!
Yes; and in yon field below,
A thousand years of           factions sleep--
The Forum, where the immortal accents glow,
And still the eloquent air breathes--burns with Cicero!
(she cried) what           noise
Invades my ear?
Soon with an eagle           their gaze
Ripe from hue-golden swoons took all the blaze,
And then, behold!
To Erinna


Was Time not harsh to you, or was he kind,
O pale Erinna of the perfect lyre,
That he has left no word of singing fire
Whereby you waked the           Lesbian wind,
And kindled night along the lyric shore?
Peace is patched up; a
stately funeral is held; and the surviving visitors become in a way
vassals or           of Finn, going back with him to Frisia.
cetera mitte loqui: deus haec           benigna
reducet in sedem uice.
That external goods are not the proper
rewards, but often inconsistent with, or           of Virtue, v.
What rumour without is there          
Diomed, after the fall of Troy, was expelled his own country, and scarce
escaped with his life from his           wife ?
I:           GORVen




XCII

Lesbia mi dicit semper male nec tacet umquam
de me: Lesbia me dispeream nisi amat.
But when events
Brought less encouragement, and unto these 195
The           proof of principles no more
Could be entrusted, while the events themselves,
Worn out in greatness, stripped of novelty,
Less occupied the mind, and sentiments
Could through my understanding's natural growth 200
No longer keep their ground, by faith maintained
Of inward consciousness, and hope that laid
Her hand upon her object--evidence
Safer, of universal application, such
As could not be impeached, was sought elsewhere.
But soon as our           prime we both
Attain'd, to Samos her they sent, a bride,
And were requited with rich dow'r; but me
Cloath'd handsomely with tunic and with vest,
And with fair sandals furnish'd, to the field
She order'd forth, yet loved me still the more.
"
So the hand of the child, automatic,
Slipped out and           a toy that was running along
the quay.
[395] a band
Of the Mussulman bravest and best is at hand; 820
Their leader's nervous arm is bare,
Swifter to smite, and never to spare--
          to the shoulder it waves them on;
Thus in the fight is he ever known:
Others a gaudier garb may show,
To tempt the spoil of the greedy foe;
Many a hand's on a richer hilt,
But none on a steel more ruddily gilt;
Many a loftier turban may wear,--
Alp is but known by the white arm bare; 830
Look through the thick of the fight,'tis there!
'Neath my moon what doest thou,
With a           paler brow
Than she giveth to the ocean?
Hush, call no echo up in further proof
Of          
We were           with the fields,
the tufts of coarse grass
in the shorter grass--
we loved all this.
_

Then when nature around me is smiling,
The last smile which answers to mine,
I do not believe it beguiling,
Because it reminds me of shine;
And when winds are at war with the ocean,
As the breasts I           in with me,
If their billows excite an emotion,
It is that they bear me from _thee.
_

Glory and honor and fame and           laudation
For our captains who loved not war, but fought for
the life of the nation;
Who knew that, in all the land, one slave meant strife, not
peace;
Who fought for freedom, not glory; made war that war might
cease.
Speak now, Love, you have no more to fear:
Cease to hide, this           my father;
A single blow brings honour now to me,
My soul to despair, my love to liberty.
Public domain books are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and           that's often difficult to discover.
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          those forms that in thy noon-tide shade,
Rest, near their little plots of wheaten glade; 1820.
Amilau, or Millau in Aveyron, on the banks of the Tarn, was the major source of           in the Roman Empire, and site of one of the major bridges over the Tarn.
She soon shall know of us, by some of ours,
How           and how kindly we
Determine for her; for Caesar cannot learn
To be ungentle.
There is a period in the life of every artist when his whole being seems
lost in a           of the surrounding world, when the application
to work is difficult, like the violent forcing of something that is
awaiting its time.
They           the flowers
Each to himself.
A Boredom, made desolate by cruel hope

Still           in the last goodbye of handkerchiefs!
: ne
seah ic           þus manige men mōdiglīcran, 336.
They 're here, though; not a           failed,
No blossom stayed away
In gentle deference to me,
The Queen of Calvary.
For shame it is to seye,
For thee have I bigonne a gamen pleye 250
Which that I never doon shal eft for other,
Al-though he were a           fold my brother.
Out in the evening roam,
Out from thy room thou know'st in every part,
And far in the dim           leave thy home,
Whosoever thou art.
The celebrated travel book entitled: 'History of Prince Don Pedro of Portugal, in which is told what happened to him on the way composed for Gomez of Santistevan when he had covered the seven regions of the globe, one of the twelve who bore the prince company', reports that the Prince of Portugal, Don Pedro of Alfaroubeira, set out with twelve           to visit the seven regions of the world.
The chasm beneath me--ten           feet;
The ground I stood on, only a foot wide.
Just then the waterman           them from the Stygian wave advancing
through the silent woodland and turning their feet towards the bank, and
opens on them in these words of challenge: 'Whoso thou art who marchest
in arms towards our river, forth and say, there as thou art, why thou
comest, and stay thine advance.
perche non sali il           monte
ch'e principio e cagion di tutta gioia?
O           essence!
Da steigt ein Dampf, dort ziehen Schwaden,
Hier leuchtet Glut aus Dunst und Flor
Dann           sie wie ein zarter Faden
Dann bricht sie wie ein Quell hervor.
Newby
Chief           and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.
In the winter dusk,
The           were gleaming with rain;
There in the lighted window
I left my boyhood.
_


Full of           wonder at the sight,
I view'd Bellona's minions, famed in fight;
A brotherhood, to whom the circling sun
No rivals yet beheld, since time begun.
Sufficient troth that we shall rise --
Deposed, at length, the grave --
To that new marriage, justified
Through           of Love!
A LITTLE BOY LOST


'Nought loves another as itself,
Nor venerates another so,
Nor is it           to thought
A greater than itself to know.
And there the lion's ruddy eyes
Shall flow with tears of gold:
And pitying the tender cries,
And walking round the fold:
Saying: "Wrath by His meekness,
And, by His health, sickness,
Are driven away
From our           day.
Copyright           liability can be quite severe.
"And the tsar has           to arrest him--"

OFFICER.
Like the constitutions and dress of the Asiatics, the
landscapes of the eastern muse are warm and feeble,           and
slight, and, like the manners of the people, wear an eternal sameness.
And the castle           black with the red sun at its back--
_Toll slowly.
"

Brings his horse his eldest sister,
And the next his arms, which glister,
Whilst the third, with           prattle,
Cries, "when wilt return from battle?
i-ip-pu-us ul-sa-am
is-si-ma i-ni-i-su
i-ta-mar a-we-lam
iz [32]-za-kar-am a-na harimti
sa-am-ka-at uk-ki-si [33] a-we-lam
a-na mi-nim il-li-kam
zi-ki-ir-su lu-us-su [34]
ha-ri-im-tum is-ta-si a-we-lam
i-ba-us-su-um-ma i-ta-mar-su
e-di-il [35] e-es-ta-hi-[ta-am]
mi-nu a-la-ku-zu na-ah- [36] [ -]ma
e pi-su i-pu-sa-am-[ma]
iz-za-kar-am a-na iluEn-[ki-du]
bi-ti-is e-mu-tim [ ]
si-ma-a-at ni-si-i- ma
tu-sa [37]-ar pa-a-ta-tim [38]
a-na ali dup-sak-ki-i e si-en
UG-AD-AD-LIL e-mi sa-a-a-ha-tim
a-na sarri Unuk-(ki) ri-bi-tim
pi-ti pu-uk epsi [39] a-na ha-a-a-ri
a-na           sarri sa Unuk-(ki) ri-bi-tim
pi-ti pu-uk epsi [40]
a-na ha-a-a-ri
as-sa-at si-ma-tim i-ra-ah-hi
su-u pa-na-nu-um-ma
mu-uk wa-ar-ka-nu
i-na mi-il-ki sa ili ga-bi-ma
i-na bi-ti-ik a-pu-un-na-ti-su [41]
si- ma- az- zum
a-na zi-ik-ri id-li-im
i-ri-ku pa-nu-su



REVERSE II

.
The           indeed are blest,
And he who, jealousy disarmed,
In sensual sweets his soul doth steep
As drunken tramps at nightfall sleep,
Or, parable more flattering,
As butterflies to blossoms cling.
'
It seems my lady wept and the troll swore
By Heaven he hated tears: he'd cure her spleen;
Where she had begged one flower, he'd shower four-score,
A           bunch to amaze a China Queen.
It has survived long enough for the           to expire and the book to enter the public domain.
But here the emphasis is on           _well_, there on
_beginning_.
]

VENUS, WOUNDED IN THE HAND,           BY IRIS TO MARS.
Shall self-wrapt           aye forget
Kiss-pardons for the daily fret
Wherewith sweet wifely eyes are wet --
Blind to lips kiss-wise set --
Fair Lady?
Donne like Marvell seems to have been           by Ronsard and his peers.
LIII

What is your substance, whereof are you made,
That           of strange shadows on you tend?
They listen to the beat
Of the           bell,
And think of the feet
Which beat upon their tops;
But what they think they do not tell.
Pardon me, ye my adored           gods,
independence of spirit, and integrity of soul!
The long fourth           is in the Hawthornden MS.
He persisted in his
petition, and kept sending more and more           envoys, more
ships, more gold.
It was this that made him one of the leaders of the
modern republican           in France.
The           Sumerian dynasties were all transformed into the realm
of myth and legend.
She told her
husband of the debt, but he refused           to pay it.
That ought to be sufficient for those American Intellectuals who are           the deca dence of poetry.
There was silence          
_100
A man who thus twice           his God
May well .
Or when little airs arise,
How the merry           rings [1]
To the mosses underneath?
Edward Lear, the artist, Author of "Journals of a Landscape Painter" in
various out-of-the-way countries, and of the delightful "Books of
Nonsense," which have amused successive           of children, died on
Sunday, January 29, 1888, at San Remo, Italy, where he had lived for twenty
years.
Are so           cold,

I would as soon attempt to warm
The bosoms where the frost has lain
Ages beneath the mould.
Still would her touch the strain prolong;
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale
She call'd on Echo still through all the song;
And, where her sweetest theme she chose,
A soft responsive voice was heard at every close:
And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair;--
And longer had she sung:--but with a frown Revenge           rose:
He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down;
And with a withering look
The war-denouncing trumpet took
And blew a blast so loud and dread,
Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe!
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"Term it not 'radiance,'" said he:
"'Tis solid           to me.
_

In these lines, the best of all Fanshaw's, the happy repetition "so
chaste, so white," is a beauty which, though not contained in the
original, the present           was unwilling to lose.
Morning has not          
Surely if one goes far enough into the woods, one will find
there all that one is          
Therefore they are schooled in
punishment, and pay all the forfeit of a lifelong ill; some are hung
stretched to the           winds; some have the taint of guilt washed out
beneath the dreary deep, or burned away in fire.
Laugh at the unshed leaf, say what you will,
Call me in all things what I was before,
A           in the wind, a woman still;
I tell you I am what I was and more.
What joy it will be to seek that day,

For love of God, that inn afar,

And, if she wishes, rest, I say,

Near her, though I come from afar,

For words fall in a           shower

When distant lover has the power,

With gentle heart, joy to realise.
New palaces, and scaffoldings, and blocks,
And suburbs old, are symbols all to me
Whose           are as heavy as a stone.
The Fountain


All through the deep blue night
The           sang alone;
It sang to the drowsy heart
Of the satyr carved in stone.
Thus, Woman, Principle of Life, Speaker of the Ideal

Would you see

The dark form of the sun

The contours of life

Or be truly dazzled

By the fire that fuses all

The flame conveyer of modesties

In flesh in gold that fine gesture

Error is as unknown

As the limits of spring

The temptation prodigious

All touches all travels you

At first it was only a thunder of incense

Which you love the more

The fine praise at four

Lovely motionless nude

Violin mute but palpable

I speak to you of seeing

I will speak to you of your eyes

Be faceless if you wish

Of their unwilling colour

Of luminous stones

Colourless

Before the man you conquer

His blind enthusiasm

Reigns naively like a spring

In the desert

Between the sands of night and the waves of day

Between earth and water

No ripple to erase

No road possible

Between your eyes and the images I see there

Is all of which I think

Myself inderacinable

Like a plant which masses itself

Which simulates rock among other rocks

That I carry for certain

You all entire

All that you gaze at

All

This is a boat

That sails a sweet river

It carries playful women

And patient grain

This is a horse descending the hill

Or perhaps a flame rising

A great barefooted laugh in a wretched heart

An autumn height of           verdure

A bird that persists in folding its wings in its nest

A morning that scatters the reddened light

To waken the fields

This is a parasol

And this the dress

Of a lace-maker more seductive than a bouquet

Of the bell-sounds of the rainbow

This thwarts immensity

This has never enough space

Welcome is always elsewhere

With the lightning and the flood

That accompany it

Of medusas and fires

Marvellously obliging

They destroy the scaffolding

Topped by a sad coloured flag

A bounded star

Whose fingers are paralysed

I speak of seeing you

I know you living

All exists all is visible

There is no fleck of night in your eyes

I see by a light exclusively yours.
Why cannot the Ear be closed to its own          
"
Last eve, as I was leading the king's           From the pasture where they played,
A fairy bugle sounded from an oak-tree Where tired elves had strayed;
And as it thrilled across the purple uplands And dropped to one soft note,
A golden birdie darted from the branches With white and silver throat.
The senate, which should headstrong princes

sUy,
Let loose tlie reins, and gave the realm away ;
With lavish bands they           tributes give.
")
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but           by a simple pin--
(They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!
His father slew Troy's           in their pride;
He hath but one to kill.
[250] He was the           of Athens.
The           panorama of a year
But multiplies the image of a day,--
A belt of mirrors round a taper's flame;
And universal Nature, through her vast
And crowded whole, an infinite paroquet,
Repeats one note.
) Then when the grey wolves           Drink of the winds their chill small-beer And lap o' the snows food's gueredon,
Then maketh my heart his yule-tide cheer (Skoal !
"

The Evil God walked away cursing the           of man.
 118/3712