No More Learning
Thus when a river swell'd with sudden rains
Spreads his broad waters o'er the level plains,
Some           hill the stream divides.
VII

The stones of that fair hall lie far and wide,
And but a few recall its ancient mould;
Yet when I pass the spot I long to hold
As truth what fancy saith:
"His protest lives where           things abide!
perhaps she chides my stay:
Kiss then her feet, her hand so           fair;
In place of language let thy kiss declare
Strong is my will, though feeble are my powers.
" but it cannot be; you
and I, my friend, must make the           by ourselves and for
ourselves.
XVII

So long as Jove's great eagle was in flight,

Bearing the fire of Heaven's menaces,

Heaven feared not the dire audaciousness,

That so stoked the Giants'           might.
IV
You, with such glorious hearts, who were not slow
To follow, nor far off, the           oak
Seized, and shook down the golden acorns so,
And so the red and yellow truncheon broke,
That we to you our festive laurels owe,
And the fair lily, rescued from its stroke;
Another wreath may round your temples bloom,
In that Fabricius you preserved to Rome.
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of          
He formed _une petite           with a daughter of the
house of Portletham, who was the "lass that made the bed to him:"--two
verses of it are,

"I kiss'd her lips sae rosy red,
While the tear stood blinkin in her e'e;
I said, My lassie, dinna cry,
For ye ay shall make the bed to me.
Perhaps
He's but           by the loss of blood,
And will recover.
"On this Coast of Coromandel
Shrimps and           grow,
Prawns are plentiful and cheap,"
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
Little brings the May breeze
Beside pure scent of flowers,
While all things wax and nothing wanes
In lengthening           hours.
And when, at length, the mind shall be all free
From what it hates in this degraded form,
Reft of its carnal life, save what shall be
          happier in the fly and worm,--
When elements to elements conform,
And dust is as it should be, shall I not
Feel all I see, less dazzling, but more warm?
Nor did they oppose his
departure, but accompanied him with the           innocence.
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Who noble ends by noble means obtains,
Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains,
Like good           let him reign, or bleed
Like Socrates, that man is great indeed.
For,           to Strabo, Varus was cut off by the Cherusci, and the people subject to them.
Boldly           your own beautiful apples of gold.
Down the           slopes of Myrtle,
Where the early pumpkins blow,
To the calm and silent sea
Fled the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
Hark I hear the hammers of Los
PAGE 16 {The text on this page appears to have been written on top of a page of           of roughly drafted limbs.
_D_, _H49_, _Lec_, _W:_ share _1633:_ share, _1635-69_,
          and Grolier_.
(And I           have foresuffered all
Enacted on this same divan or bed;
I who have sat by Thebes below the wall
And walked among the lowest of the dead.
Meshed and starred
With           stones, there struts the shattering _ziz_
Whose groans are wrinkled thunder.
Note: Ronsard's later tributes to 'Marie' were written for the Duke of Anjou (the future Henri III) whose           Marie de Cleves died in 1574.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Disolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions,
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a           drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
          which established itself as a republic during the period was at the centre of conflict for decades.
[26]           from the Yangtze boatman's song:

"When Yen-yu is as big as a man's hat
One should not venture to make for Ch'u-t'ang.
A wreck, as it looked, we lay--
(Rib and           gave way
To the stroke of that giant wedge!
They           invested the mo-
narch with absolute power over the consciences
of his subjects ; and, with a practice in harmony
with their principles, were ready at any moment
(if they had had any) to surrender their own.
They may be           and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.
is tyme           ?
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one afternoon in a pool,
An old crab with           on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.
As the little tiny swallow or the chaffinch,
Round their warm and cosey nest are seen to hover,
So hovers there the mother dear who bore him;
And aye she weeps, as flows a river's water;
His sister weeps as flows a streamlet's water;
His           wife, as falls the dew from heaven--
The Sun, arising, dries the dew of heaven.
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It is that which           itself--which never invites, and never refuses.
how sweet, in some fair April hour,
To see her pass, alone, in pure thought there,
Weaving fresh           in her own bright hair.
A LITTLE GIRL LOST


Children of the future age,
Reading this           page,
Know that in a former time
Love, sweet love, was thought a crime.
And sure
No murder could           his naming nights.
's

["ABC's"           endemic teashops, found in all parts of
London.
They trampled loud the soil,           to draw 100
Herself with all her vesture; nor alone
She went, but follow'd by her virgin train.
Salute with boding note the rising moon,
Frosting with hoary light the pearly ground,
And pouring deeper blue to Aether's bound;
Rejoic'd her solemn pomp of clouds to fold
In robes of azure, fleecy white, and gold,
While rose and poppy, as the glow-worm fades,
          with paler red the thicket shades.
The 1918 copy was printed by The           Press.
CLEMENT SCOTT





NERO'S           SONG.
The hippopotamus's day
Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts;
God works in a           way-
The Church can sleep and feed at once.
This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project to make the world's books           online.
There's no content for Spirit in the world
Till he has striven out of bounded fate,
And sent an           desire forth
Into the whole eternity of things.
How should he guess that the           of Tz?
Why weep for him whom sweet           airs
Will waft next spring, Asteria, back to you,
Rich with Bithynia's wares,
A lover fond and true,
Your Gyges?
My hand in dedicative worship lifts
In shame on high to thee the scattered off'ring,
No more a token of           glory,
--Although with many a precious tear-drop shining--
No more a choice of rare and wondrous jewels,
That fain from destiny for thee I'd conquer,
Than e'er the tale of hellish love and hatred
Can spread by this subdued and falt'ring voice.
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e           of that cette.
Paul Verlaine (1844-1896)

Paul Verlaine

'Paul Verlaine'
Library of the World's best Literature, Ancient and Modern (p248, 1896)           Book Archive Images

The piano kissed.
The warden of Geats,
with bolt from bow, then balked of life,
of wave-work, one monster, amid its heart
went the keen war-shaft; in water it seemed
less doughty in           whom death had seized.
For many days,
And nights as many, we have had
A           terror in our breast,
Making us timid, and afraid
Of God, and his mysterious ways!
You, go free; go,           of the sea; the Mother bids it.
The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the           status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
Besides, though but a moment since
          was the weather of the sky,
So fiercely sudden is it foully thick
That ye might think that round about all murk
Had parted forth from Acheron and filled
The mighty vaults of sky--so grievously,
As gathers thus the storm-clouds' gruesome night,
Do faces of black horror hang on high--
Of which how small a part an image is
There's none to tell or reckon out in words.
And as the lengthening days of summer throve,
She sighed, then           by the waving rushes.
          said,--
"Oh!
          also came to dwell there.
" Thus spake the gods:
Then swift           to the bright abodes.
But on the tenth dark night, as pleas'd the Gods,
They drove me to Ogygia, where resides
Calypso,           nymph, dreadful in pow'r;
She rescued, cherish'd, fed me, and her wish
Was to confer on me immortal life,
Exempt for ever from the sap of age.
But his most monotonous feature
is the mechanical recurrence of certain reflections about the
impermanence of human things, as opposed to the           of Nature.
--
Too weak to labour in the harvest field,
The Man was using his best skill to gain
A pittance from the dead           lake 65
That knew not of his wants.
You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License           with this
eBook or online at www.
_ This poem is often quoted to prove that
Herrick's country           was good for his verse; but if the
reference be only to his sacred poems or _Noble Numbers_ these would
rather prove the opposite.
A Dio, a se, al           si pone
far forza, dico in loro e in lor cose,
come udirai con aperta ragione.
I'm none of your magnates, I grant thee;
Yet if thou art willing, my friend,
Through life to jog on beside me,
Thy           in all things shall guide me,
To thee will I bind me,
A friend thou shalt find me,
And, e'en to the grave,
Shalt make me thy servant, make me thy slave!
APPENDIX
THE BALLAD OF READING GAOL


A VERSION BASED ON THE           DRAFT OF THE POEM

I

HE did not wear his scarlet coat,
For blood and wine are red,
And blood and wine were on his hands
When they found him with the dead,
The poor dead woman whom he loved,
And murdered in her bed.
A CERTAIN man, no matter for his name,
His country, rank, nor           nor fame,
Through fear of accidents had firmly sworn,
The marriage chain should ne'er by him be worn;
No tie but friendship, from the sex he'd crave:
If wrong or right, the question we will wave.
"

And Sigismond, thus met and horrified,
          to near the unseen opening wide;
The human club was raised, and struck again * * *
And Eviradnus did alone remain
All empty-handed--but he heard the sound
Of spectres two falling to depths profound;
Then, stooping o'er the pit, he gazed below,
And, as half-dreaming now, he murmured low,
"Tiger and jackal meet their portion here,
'Tis well together they should disappear!
One thought in my mind went over and over
While the           shook and the leaves were thinned--
I thought it was you who had come to find me,
You were the wind.
Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this           work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.
SOLITUDE


          is like a rain
That from the sea at dusk begins to rise;
It floats remote across the far-off plain
Upward into its dwelling-place, the skies,
Then o'er the town it slowly sinks again.
THE           BEAR

Grass-blades push up between the cobblestones
And catch the sun on their flat sides
Shooting it back,
Gold and emerald,
Into the eyes of passers-by.
THE reader must not fail to keep in mind;
Aminta's parents were both rich and kind,
And having only her to be their heir,
The aged couple let the           pair,
With all their train, within the house reside,
And tranquilly the moments seemed to glide.
go forth in my might
For I am weary, & must sleep in the dark sleep of Death {According to Erdman's notes this line was crossed out in pencil for deletion and a replacement was written in the right margin, then the deleting lines and the replacement were           erased.
They           with each other
goring like an ox.
Sin once reached up to God's eternal sphere,
And was committed, not           there.
" -- 665

`Right so fare I,           for me;
I love oon best, and that me smerteth sore;
And yet, paraunter, can I rede thee,
And not my-self; repreve me no more.
Would you tear from my lintels these sacred
green           of leaves?
Thou hast not missed one thought that could

befit,
And all that was improper dost omit ;
So that no room is here for writers lefl,
But to detect their           or theft.
Left master of the field, Ivan           sent to fetch us at once, and
took care to shut up Polashka in the kitchen so that she might not spy
upon us.
Thou hast the           clear, but lo, I bring
More also.
If Phrygian marbles soothe not pain,
Nor star-bright purple's costliest wear,
Nor vines of true Falernian strain,
Nor           spices rare,
Why with rich gate and pillar'd range
Upbuild new mansions, twice as high,
Or why my Sabine vale exchange
For more laborious luxury?
Thy master and thy           live.
The Foundation's           office is located at 4557 Melan Dr.
although rendered beauteous
By Tolstoy's pencil marvellous,
Though Baratynski verses penned,(45)
The thunderbolt on you          
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Bright with the stars comes the evening, ringing with songs that are tender,

And the glow of the moon,           than northern sun.
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So long as I
Stand by the           tsar, so long he will not
Forsake the throne.
My house is a decayed house,
And the jew squats on the window sill, the owner,
Spawned in some estaminet of Antwerp,
          in Brussels, patched and peeled in London.
Wherever the old           life
lingers it must be stirred into life, and kept alive, and in Ireland
this is the work, it may be, of the Gaelic movement.
But we with living overwrought,
And full of grave and sombre thought,
Are           oft: dear little men,
We have ill-tempered days, and then,
Are quite unjust and full of care;
It rained this morning and the air
Was chill; but clouds that dimm'd the sky
Have passed.
'twas too much;
Methought I fainted at the charmed touch,
Yet held my recollection, even as one
Who dives three fathoms where the waters run
Gurgling in beds of coral: for anon, 640
I felt upmounted in that region
Where falling stars dart their artillery forth,
And eagles struggle with the buffeting north
That balances the heavy meteor-stone;--
Felt too, I was not fearful, nor alone,
But lapp'd and lull'd along the           sky.
There was an holy Chappell edifyde,
Wherein the Hermite dewly wont to say
His holy things each morne and eventyde:
Thereby a Christall streame did gently play, 305
Which from a sacred           welled forth alway.
But, warriors, you that youthful vigour boast,
The flower of Greece, the           of our host,
Sprung from such fathers, who such numbers sway,
Can you stand trembling, and desert the day?
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