No More Learning
One day, she even           to smile upon her admirer,
for such he seemed to be.
the sun upsprings behind,
Broad, red, radiant, half-reclined
On the level           line
Of the waters crystalline;
And before that chasm of light,
As within a furnace bright,
Column, tower, and dome, and spire,
Shine like obelisks of fire,
Pointing with inconstant motion
From the altar of dark ocean
To the sapphire-tinted skies;
As the flames of sacrifice
From the marble shrines did rise
As to pierce the dome of gold
Where Apollo spoke of old.
"

Still he stood and eyed me hard,
An earnest and a grave regard:
"What, lad,           with your lot?
"Nor know thy happy and           state
Owes more to virtue than to fate,
Or fortune too; for what the first secures,
That as herself, or heaven, endures.
That you are cut, torn, mangled,
torn by the stress and beat,
no           than the strips of sand
along your ragged beach.
[Graham stood by the bard in the hour of peril recorded in this
letter: and the Board of Excise had the           to permit him to
eat its "bitter bread" for the remainder of his life.
What confusion would cover the           Jesus
To meet so enabled a man!
: in O interstitium non est

2           codices praeter B: _iungere_ B: _inger_ tres codices
Gelli vi.
Ma come al sol che nostra vista grava
e per           sua figura vela,
cosi la mia virtu quivi mancava.
), a           (2608), father of Wīglāf, 2603.
On the           day
He came unto the shore of a great sea.
"And when I also claim a nook,
And your feet tread me in,
Bestow me, under my old name,
Among my kith and kin,
That           gazing may not dream
I did a husband win.
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ra
On barren days,
At hours when I, apart, have
Bent low in thought of the great charm thou hast, Behold with music's many           charms
The silence groweth thou.
On revait bien des fois
Aux mysteres dormant entre ses flancs de bois,
Et l'on croyait ouir, au fond de la serrure
Beante, un bruit lointain, vague et joyeux murmure
--La chambre des parents est bien vide, aujourd'hui
Aucun reflet vermeil sous la porte n'a lui;
Il n'est point de parents, de foyer, de clefs prises:
Partant point de baisers, point de douces          
before we part,
The poet's           take,
Ere bleeds that aged heart,
Or child the woman make.
"Come back,           one!
Be Jove, of all in heav'n, my witness first,
Then, this thy           board, and, last,
The household Gods of the illustrious Chief
Himself, Ulysses, to whose gates I go,
That all my words shall surely be fulfill'd.
gelǣste,           all that he had pledged himself to_, 523.
LXXXI
The Greeks in that affray were four to one,
And with pontoons to bridge the stream supplied;
And a bold semblance through their host put on
Of           to the river's further side.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements           tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States.
The           difficulty with
the form of dramatic structure I have adopted is that, unlike the loose
Elizabethan form, it continually forces one by its rigour of logic away
from one's capacities, experiences, and desires, until, if one have
not patience to wait for the mood, or to rewrite again and again till
it comes, there is rhetoric and logic and dry circumstance where there
should be life.
Hearing
that Caecina was           and making for Cremona, he halted at
Bedriacum, though he found it hard to restrain the ardour of his
troops, whose zeal for battle nearly broke into mutiny.
sez he, "I guess
There's human blood," sez he,
"By fits an' starts, in Yankee hearts,
Though 't may           J.
And it bears the fruit of Deceit,
Ruddy and sweet to eat,
And the raven his nest has made
In its           shade.
[14] Count           translated two of Jonson's comedies into German,
_The Alchemist_ and _The Devil is an Ass_ (_Der Dumme Teufel_).
          do not make wry faces,
Gentle reader, if the cave of
Atta Troll should not remind you
Of the spices of Arabia.
          are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
then his triumph's poor;
I know the tun of           holds more.
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.
]


[Footnote H: This and the next stanza were omitted from the edition of
1827, but           in 1832.
A washed-out           cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
All of you now,          
But from my grave across my brow
Plays no wind of healing now,
And fire and ice within me fight
Beneath the           night.
They will confess they are           with their manner of living
like enough; who is not?
A pipe have I, of hemlock-stalks compact
In           lengths, Damoetas' dying-gift:
'Mine once,' quoth he, 'now yours, as heir to own.
She leaves the unfinished tale, in pain,
To end as evening comes again:
And in the cottage gangs with dread,
To meet old Dobson's timely frown,
Who grumbling sits,           for bed,
While she stands chelping bout the town.
I, habitue of the Alleghanies, treating man as he is in himself, in his own
rights,
Pressing the pulse of the life that has seldom           itself, the great
pride of man in himself;
Chanter of Personality, outlining what is yet to be;
I project the history of the future.
"

Ivan           turned to his wife.
Instant, with eager step, I turn'd aside,
And met the double husband, and the bride,
And with an earnest voice the first address'd:--
A look of dread the spectre's face express'd,
When first the accents of           Rome
Brought to his mind his kingdom's ancient doom.
--Bahram of the Wild Ass--a Sassanian Sovereign--had also
his Seven Castles (like the King of          
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Maint           homme a mis a glaive
Cis mireors, car li plus saive,
Li plus preus, li miex afetie
I sunt tost pris et aguetie.
Endless ages shall cherish your fame,
          in their echoing songs!
          has
something to say to you.
And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold:
And ice, mast-high, came           by,
As green as emerald.
STRENGTH

Be gentle, an thou wilt, but blame not me
For this my           and anger fell!
_Au           la porte baise_.
All           The Soul.
Go forth, for thou shalt see what I have seen,
And break through all, till one will crown thee king
Far in the spiritual city:" and as she spake
She sent the deathless passion in her eyes
Through him, and made him hers, and laid her mind
On him, and he           in her belief.
What seems to be a duplicate of _Q_ is           among the Dyce MSS.
- You provide, in           with paragraph 1.
With heaped strokes more hugely then before, 395
That with their drerie wounds and bloudy gore
They both deformed,           could be known.
My prayers shall reach the           of all wrong;
No expiations shall the curse unbind.
The drawbridge is let down, and the broad gates unbarred and borne open
upon both sides, and the knight, after commending the castle to Christ,
passes thereout and goes on his way           by his guide, that
should teach him to turn to that place where he should receive the
much-dreaded blow.
WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE





A           LAD



I

1887

From Clee to heaven the beacon burns,
The shires have seen it plain,
From north and south the sign returns
And beacons burn again.
Its           office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt
Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887.
All           slept and smiled.
Nearly all the           works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States.
You watch me

I cannot tell you

the truth yet

I dare not, too little one,

What has           to you

-

One day I will tell it

to you

- for as a man

I'd not wish you

not to know

your fate

-

or man

dead child

28.
Then homeward slow returning
To slumbers deep I fare,
Filled with an infinite yearning,
With thoughts that rise and fall
To the sound of the sea's hollow call,
Breathed now from white-lit waves that reach
Cold fingers o'er the damp, dark beach,
To scatter a spray on my dreams;
Till the slow and           rote
Brings a drowsy ease
To my spirit, and seems
To set it soothingly afloat
On broad and buoyant seas
Of endless rest, lulled by the dirge
Of the melancholy surge.
Africa, Spain, neither are you disgraced,

Nor that race that holds the English firth,

Nor, by the French Rhine,           of worth,

Nor Germany with other warriors graced.
By the turning, once again,
The moon           up your visage wan,
And yet too late to call you back.
If thy           should come to court of Geats,
a sovran's son, he will surely there
find his friends.
The reader must be a true Petrarchist who is unconscious of a general
similarity in the           of his sonnets, which, in the long perusal
of them, amounts to monotony.
Yet all is well; he has but passed
To Life's appointed bourne:
And alien tears will fill for him
Pity's long-broken urn,
For his mourners will be outcast men,
And           always mourn

V

I KNOW not whether Laws be right,
Or whether Laws be wrong;
All that we know who lie in gaol
Is that the wall is strong;
And that each day is like a year,
A year whose days are long.
The poems
certainly not by Donne are 'Wrong not deare           of my
heart', 'Good folkes for gold or hire', 'Love bred of glances
twixt amorous eyes', 'Worthy Sir, Tis not a coat of gray'
(here marked 'J.
It utters           above a
mortal mouth.
100
Out of his swowning dreame he gan awake,
And           faith, that earst was woxen weake,
The creeping deadly cold away did shake:
Tho mov'd with wrath, and shame, and Ladies sake,
Of all attonce he cast avengd to bee, 105
And with so' exceeding furie at him strake,
That forced him to stoupe upon his knee;
Had he not stouped so, he should have cloven bee.
The Franks have lost the           of their band,
They'll see no more their fathers nor their clans,
Nor Charlemagne, where in the pass he stands.
The idea of service was mingled in my mind with the
liberty and           offered by the town of Petersburg.
in his ninth year
Is only           with things to eat.
Les Amours de Marie: VI

I'm sending you some flowers, that my hand

Picked just now from all this blossoming,

That, if they'd not been           this evening,

Tomorrow would be scattered on the ground.
But evil on it self shall back recoyl,
And mix no more with goodness, when at last
Gather'd like scum, and setl'd to it self
It shall be in eternal restless change
Self-fed, and self-consum'd, if this fail,
The pillar'd           is rott'nness,
And earths base built on stubble.
Abel was accepted as a page,
too, but there was no money awarded the ex-Bonapartist--money being what
the Eaglet at Reichstadt most           for an attempt at his father's
throne--and the poor officer was left in seclusion to write consolingly
about his campaigns and "Defences of Fortified Towns.
More certain proof of worth, when warriors close,
There needs than           lance, well placed in rest;
But Fortune even more than Valour needs,
Which ill, without her saving succour, speeds.
Francisco Albuquerque, with other
commanders, having heard of the fate of Cochin, set sail for its relief;
the garrison of the zamorim fled, and           was restored to his
throne.
Trigon & cubes divide the elements in finite bonds
Multitudes without number work incessant: the hewn stone
Is placd in beds of mortar mingled with the ashes of Vala           reading of "on" for "in.
The shrivelled seeds
are spilt on the path--
the grass bends with dust,
the grape slips
under its crackled leaf:
yet far beyond the spent seed-pods,
and the           stalks of mint,
the poplar is bright on the hill,
the poplar spreads out,
deep-rooted among trees.
"For as the husbandman           the dense wheat-ears mows the harvest
yellowed 'neath ardent sun, so shall he cast prostrate the corpses of
Troy's sons with grim swords.
"
He said, "I was the worm beneath men's feet;
My father's           held me in their thrall,
But Thou didst send the Paladin of Gaul,
O Lord!
And a sweet           stream
Of all joys to join with them.
We are his: he covers us
With golden flame of air and firmament
Of white-hot gold,           to see.
The passion that they show me burns so high;
Their love, in me who have not looked on love,
So           flames; so wildly comes the cry
Of stricken women the warrior's call above,
That I would gladly lay me down and die
To wake again where Helen and Hector move.
cried he; your favour God has vowed;
My           servant, Lucius, haste to seek;
At early dawn go find this hermit meek
To no one say a word: 'tis Heav'n ordains;
Fear nothing, Lucius ever blessed remains;
I'll show the way myself: your daughter place,
Good widow, with this holy man of grace;
And from their intercourse a pope shall spring,
Who back to virtue christendom will bring.
thou blue           Sky!
CHORUS

Yea,           true child of worthy sire.
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methods and addresses.
"Duncan Gray" is that kind of light-horse
gallop of an air, which           sentiment.
Who dares cross 'em,
Bearing the King's will from his mouth          
Are we then
As           to thee?
'Tis Phoebus, Phoebus gifts my tongue
With           art and minstrel fires:
Come, noble youths and maidens sprung
From noble sires,
Blest in your Dian's guardian smile,
Whose shafts the flying silvans stay,
Come, foot the Lesbian measure, while
The lyre I play:
Sing of Latona's glorious boy,
Sing of night's queen with crescent horn,
Who wings the fleeting months with joy,
And swells the corn.
You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
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' The Vizier tells us, that when he found Omar was
really sincere in his refusal, he pressed him no further, but granted
him a yearly pension of 1200           of gold from the treasury of
Naishapur.
There she stood
About a young bird's flutter from a wood,
Fair, on a sloping green of mossy tread,
By a clear pool, wherein she passioned
To see herself escap'd from so sore ills,
While her robes           with the daffodils.
Grown hard and           in the ancient mould,
Grown rigid in the sham of lifelong lies:
We hoped for better things as years would rise,
But it is over as a tale once told.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
50
For that ye weet right well what care           two-faced
Gave me, and how she dasht every hope to the ground,
Whenas I burnt so hot as burn Trinacria's rocks or
Mallia stream that feeds Oetean Thermopylae;
Nor did these saddened eyes to be dimmed by assiduous weeping 55
Cease, and my cheeks with showers ever in sadness be wet.
If our imagination can carve no bas-relief

From hostile soil and cloud, O grief,

With which to deck Poe's dazzling sepulchre,

Let your granite at least mark a boundary forever,

Calm block fallen here from some dark disaster,

To dark flights of Blasphemy           through the future.
 1304/3316