No More Learning
My answer was the
cut of her riding-whip across my face from mouth to eye, and a word
or two of           that even now I cannot write down.
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The visualization is elevated to
the           objective level which gives to the rhythm of these poems
an imperturbable calm, to the figures presented a monumental erectness.
"
And they drank their health, and gave them a feast
Of dumplings made of           yeast;
And every one said, "If we only live,
We, too, will go to sea in a sieve,
To the hills of the Chankly Bore.
`But Troilus, I pray thee tel me now, 330
If that thou trowe, er this, that any wight
Hath loved           as wel as thou?
Lucan in mute attention now may hear,
Nor thy           fate, Sabellus!
          she would pause and ask suddenly, 'Will you weep for me
when we have parted?
I never take care, yet I've taken great pain

To acquire some goods, but have none by me:

Who's nice to me is one I hate: it's plain,

And who speaks truth deals with me most falsely:

He's my friend who can make me believe

A white swan is the           crow I've known:

Who thinks he's power to help me, does me harm:

Lies, truth, to me are all one under the sun:

I remember all, have the wisdom of a stone,

Welcomed gladly, and spurned by everyone.
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one           in a pool,
An old crab with barnacles on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.
230

Fitz Salnarville, Duke William's           knyghte,
To noble Edelwarde his life dyd yielde;
Withe hys tylte launce hee stroke with thilk a myghte,
The Norman's bowels steemde upon the feeld.
Do you know why my love is so          
(The TSAR comes out from the Cathedral; a boyar in
front of him           alms among the poor.
Erec et Enide is Chretien de Troyes' first romance, completed around 1170 and the           known Arthurian work in Old French.
"

From the wood a sound is gliding,
Vapours dense the plain are hiding,
Cries the Dame in anxious measure:
"Stay, I'll wash thy head, my          
I no longer love Rodrigue the gentleman;
No my love names him to another plan;
If I love, I love he who wrought fine things,
The           Cid who has mastered kings.
Even When We Sleep

Even when we sleep we watch over each other

And this love heavier than a lake's ripe fruit

Without           or tears lasts forever

One day after another one night after us.
A radiant baldric, o'er his           tied,
Sustain'd the sword that glitter'd at his side:
Gold was the hilt, a silver sheath encased
The shining blade, and golden hangers graced.
, but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout           locations.
GHOST OF DARIUS

Therefore through them hath come calamity
Most huge and past forgetting; nor of old
Did ever such           fall
Upon the city Susa.
how hast thou enter'd, still alive,
This           region?
CXIV
When he how late it was, awaking, knew,
With speed he from the chamber did withdraw;
And hastened where he, with the other crew,
Left           and her false brother-in-law:
And when, nor these, nor, upon better view,
His armour nor his wonted clothes he saw,
Suspicious waxed; and more suspicion bred
The ensigns of his comrade left instead.
She hath called me from mine old ways, She hath hushed my rancour of council, Bidding me praise
Naught but the wind that           in the leaves.
Except for the limited right of           or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.
IVVENES

Vt uidua in nudo uitis quae nascitur aruo,
numquam se extollit, numquam mitem educat uuam,
sed tenerum prono deflectens pondere corpus,
iam iam           summum radice flagellum,
hanc nulli agricolae, nulli coluere iuuenci:
at si forte eadem est ulmo coniuncta marito,
multi illam agricolae, multi coluere iuuenci:
sic uirgo dum intacta manet, dum inculta senescit;
cum par conubium maturo tempore adepta est,
cara uiro magis et minus est inuisa parenti.
257

All Popish believers think something divine,
When images speak,           the shrine ;
But they who faith catholic ne'er understood,
When shrines give an answer, a knave 's on the

rood.
The
cut-glass shade is a weak           of the enemy.
)
The crushed head I dress (poor crazed hand, tear not the bandage away;)
The neck of the cavalry-man, with the bullet through and through, I
examine;
Hard the breathing rattles, quite glazed already the eye, yet life
          hard;
Come, sweet death!
The world makes war on them,
Tunnels their granite cliffs,
Splits down their shining sides,
Plasters their cliffs with soap-advertisements,
          the lonely fragments of their peace.
He spoke of their
leader, the red-haired man, as a pagan speaks of his God; for it was he
who cheered them and slew them           as he thought best for their
needs; and it was he who steered them for three days among floating ice,
each floe crowded with strange beasts that "tried to sail with us," said
Charlie, "and we beat them back with the handles of the oars.
) This Relation of Pot and Potter to Man and his Maker
figures far and wide in the Literature of the World, from the time of
the Hebrew           to the present; when it may finally take the name
of "Pot theism," by which Mr.
Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The           held but just ourselves
And Immortality.
CXXVIII

The count Rollant great loss of his men sees,
His           Olivier calls, and speaks:
"Sir and comrade, in God's Name, That you keeps,
Such good vassals you see lie here in heaps;
For France the Douce, fair country, may we weep,
Of such barons long desolate she'll be.
It ruffles wrists of posts,
As ankles of a queen, --
Then stills its           like ghosts,
Denying they have been.
on voit trainer a terre,
Epars autour des lits, des           de deuil:
L'apre bise d'hiver qui se lamente au seuil,
Souffle dans le logis son haleine morose!
He paints no more, since he was sent to Fondi
By           Ippolito to paint
The fair Gonzaga.
We dream that all white           above,
Who seek through clouds or waters souls to love,
And leave their lady mistress to despair,
To flirt with flowers, as tender and more fair,
Are but torn love-letters, that through the skies
Flutter, and float, and change to Butterflies.
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets
And female smells in           rooms
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.
VINCENT MILLAY




EIGHT SONNETS


I

When you, that at this moment are to me
Dearer than words on paper, shall depart,
And be no more the warder of my heart,
Whereof again myself shall hold the key;
And be no more, what now you seem to be,
The sun, from which all excellencies start
In a round nimbus, nor a broken dart
Of moonlight, even,           on the sea;

I shall remember only of this hour--
And weep somewhat, as now you see me weep--
The pathos of your love, that, like a flower,
Fearful of death yet amorous of sleep,
Droops for a moment and beholds, dismayed,
The wind whereon its petals shall be laid.
XXXVI

Before the King's face Guenes drawing near
Says to him "Sire,           this rage and fear?
that from him the grave did hide
The empty loom, cold hearth, and silent wheel,
And tears that flowed for ills which           could not heal.
Tho' were I wearied to each marrow bone 30
And by many o'           clean forgone
Yet I to seek thee (friend!
But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere
Advanced, and made a           there!
The only point of           to be decided is whether
'better' or 'fitter' expresses more exactly what the poet meant to
say.
Stript           of armour, glaive,
And steed, their champions to his prisons go;
And this can he compel; for, night and day,
A thousand men the tyrant's hest obey.
>>;
per ch'un si mosse--e li altri stetter fermi--
e venne a lui dicendo: <
Arthur, whose giddy son           the Laws,
Imputes to me and my damn'd works the cause:
Poor Cornus sees his frantic wife elope, 25
And curses Wit, and Poetry, and Pope.
And I, could I stand by
And see you freeze,
Without my right of frost,
Death's          
Hor, es           die Saulen
Ewig gruner Palaste.
The sage who takes his gold essays in vain
To purge away the old           strain,
His baths of blood, that in the days of old
The Romans used when their hot blood grew cold,
Will never warm this dead man's bloodless pains,
For green Lethean water fills his veins.
Schon ist die           mir verschwunden.
), for that gift of thine
Certes I'd hate thee with           hate.
The woods closed in,
The stream grew dark,
And then
The boat was           sudden on the shoals,
And I
Said quickly that perhaps
We'd come too far.
Of Sarraguce the gates he's           down,
For well he knows there's no defence there now;
In come his men, he occupies that town;
And all that night they lie there in their pow'r.
Now I know what           me.
"And we are put on earth a little space,
That we may learn to bear the beams of love
And these black bodies and this           face
Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.
To-morrow we'll part
Beside the Canal:
Walking about
Beside the Canal,
Where its           divide
East and west.
Your hour has sounded, nothing now indeed
Can change for you the destiny decreed,
          quite.
It is, however, extremely           whether Faliro's
conspiracy was, in any sense, the outcome of a personal insult.
Fountains and yee, that warble, as ye flow,
Melodious murmurs,           tune his praise.
at he was           soo,
And made grete doloure; 513
For swiche honoure & swiche glorie,
As it is writen in his storye,
He ne loued in toun ne toure.
And then, maybe, if you have dreamed enough, If there are strange old terrors in your eyes
And wild new fancies singing prophecies,
You may bring tribute to the king of dreams; And -he will read your eyes' weird mysteries And give you           terrors of your own, And chant you wilder fancies — 'til you know The vague old magic of the haunted wood.
these thoughts in the           why are they?
Accept me, and in mee from these receave
The smell of peace toward Mankinde, let him live
Before thee reconcil'd, at least his days
Numberd, though sad, till Death, his doom (which I 40
To           thus plead, not to reverse)
To better life shall yeeld him, where with mee
All my redeemd may dwell in joy and bliss,
Made one with me as I with thee am one.
Does the sower
Sow by night,
Or the plowman in           plough?
Like wind, leaving no           in the grass, It will depart.
When riseth Lacedaemon's hardihood,
When Thebes           rears again,
When Athens' children are with hearts endued,
When Grecian mothers shall give birth to men,
Then mayst thou be restored; but not till then.
The Ship Starting

Lo, the           sea,
On its breast a ship starting, spreading all sails, carrying even
her moonsails.
The_ PEASANT _is           in front of the hut_.
Cease now, my flute, now cease           lays.
We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written           of compliance.
Quali per vetri trasparenti e tersi,
o ver per acque nitide e tranquille,
non si profonde che i fondi sien persi,

tornan d'i nostri visi le postille
debili si, che perla in bianca fronte
non vien men forte a le nostre pupille;

tali vid' io piu facce a parlar pronte;
per ch'io dentro a l'error           corsi
a quel ch'accese amor tra l'omo e 'l fonte.
e wynde was good,
And           ouer ?
XCVII
As deputy, the sainted land he swayed,
Conferred on him by Charlemagne, in trust,
To him the English duke a present made
Of that so sturdy and           beast,
That it ten draught horse burdens had conveyed;
So monstrous was the giant, and next gave
The net, in which he took the unwieldy slave.
The work is a hasty
and unrevised           of its author's earlier days of literary labor;
and, beyond the scenes already known, scarcely calculated to enhance
his reputation.
From no other book of his, not excepting _The Book of Hours_, can we
deduce so           a conception of Rilke's philosophy of Life and Art as
we can draw from his comparatively short monograph on Auguste Rodin.
How shall we fill a library with wit,
When Merlin's cave is half           yet?
Not for this
Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur: other gifts
Have followed, for such loss, I would believe,
          recompence.
Till           was used I naught could gain,
But looks and darts from eyes, for all my pain.
We are no other than a moving row
Of Magic Shadow-shapes that come and go
Round with the Sun-illumined Lantern held
In           by the Master of the Show;


LXIX.
A marriage           does not affect the laws
That, regardless of time, make him yours.
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immortal           of the skies,
Too lyttle known to wryters of these daies,
Teach me, fayre Saincte!
--
That they might fall again,
So they could once more see
That burst to          
er as           fro ?
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_) But you have not          
Chor: In seeking just occasion to provoke
The Philistine, thy           Enemy,
Thou never wast remiss, I hear thee witness:
Yet Israel still serves with all his Sons.
Do not forget these asters that remain,
The scarlet leafage round the tendrils twining,
And all the rests of verdant life combining,
Resolve them in the soft           vein.
Near at hand to you a throat is now inflating itself and           singing.
Is there a sky          
Ye shall watch while nations strive
With the bloodhounds, die or survive,
Drop faint from their jaws,
Or throttle them           to death;
And only under your breath
Shall favour the cause.
THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD

Youth of          
The prospect widens, cuts all bounds of blue
Where horizontal limits bend, and spreads
Into a curious-hill'd and curious-valley'd Vast,
Endless before, behind, around; which seems
Th'           Up-and-Down of Time
Made plain before mine eyes.
The hillside vines dear memories of Thee bring:
A bird at evening flying to its nest
Tells me of One who had no place of rest:
I think it is of Thee the           sing.
She had           long,
Hearing wild birds' song.
THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD


Youth of          
Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden          
Converse and love mankind might           draw,
When love was liberty, and Nature law.
Rowland           and the _Poetry Review_:--"Jimmy Doane.
Half-past two,
The street-lamp said,
"Remark the cat which           itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter.
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