No More Learning
In that hour
Thou slewest the child, oh why
Not rather slay Calamity,
Breeder of Pain and Doubt,           Power?
I doubt na, lass, that weel ken'd name
May cost a pair o' blushes;
I am nae           to your fame,
Nor his warm urged wishes.
King, behold the man
The swiftest and the boldest
In thy kingdom by the sea,
From           or .
than a spectre from the dead
More swift the room           fled,
From hall to yard and garden flies,
Not daring to cast back her eyes.
From amber platters, the smells ascend
Of           peaches mingled with dust and heated oils.
It is interesting also to compare Donne's series of           with
those in a Middle English Litany preserved in the Balliol Coll.
Protect me always from like excess,

Virgin, who bore, without a cry,

Christ whom we           at Mass.
"
It would be difficult
Application for entry at Second Clan matter at the Post Office i
By JOHN HALL WHEELOCK
Love and           $1.
Perhaps a native of some distant shore,
The future consort of her bridal hour:
Or rather some descendant of the skies;
Won by her prayer, the aerial bridegroom flies,
Heaven on that hour its choicest           shed,
That gave a foreign spouse to crown her bed!
There doth my father lie; and there this night
We'll pass the           privately and well.
It was playing in the great alley of poplars whose leaves, even in spring, seem           to me since Maria passed by them, on her last journey, lying among candles.
Das           wird es Euch doch zerpflucken.
They tell us you might sue us if there is           wrong with
your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault.
In some
obscure manner, however, savage           has been constantly
interrupted; and it seems as if the long-repressed forces of
individuality then burst out into exaggerated vehemence; for the result
(if it is not slavery) is, that a people passes from its savage to its
heroic age, on its way to some permanence of civilization.
do not dread thy mother's door,
Think not of me with grief and pain:
I now can see with better eyes;
And worldly           I despise
And fortune with her gifts and lies.
See, Antony, that revels long o' nights,
Is           up.
In golden dreams the sage duennas slept;
A female           to watch was kept.
Et des iles
Dont les cieux           sont ouverts au vogueur:
--Est-ce en ces nuits sans fond que tu dors et t'exiles,
Million d'oiseaux d'or, o future Vigueur?
I might not be so anguisshous,
That I mote glad and Ioly be,
Whan that I           me.
O City city, I can           hear
Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street, 260
The pleasant whining of a mandoline
And a clatter and a chatter from within
Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
Of Magnus Martyr hold
Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.
So thou, sweet Rose-bud, young and gay,
Shalt           blaze upon the day,
And bless the parent's evening ray
That watch'd thy early morning.
Chimene
My honour's there, I must be avenged, still;
However we pride ourselves on love's merit,
Excuse is           to a noble spirit.
It founds the homes and decks the days,
And every clamor bright
Is but the gleam concomitant
Of that           light.
CCXXXI

"Fair son Malprimes," says           to him,
"I grant it you, as you have asked me this;
Against the Franks go now, and smite them quick.
) by slight extravagances and forms of words which are
sometimes epic and sometimes over-colloquial; it has a regular saga plot,
which had already been treated by the old poet           in his
_Alcestis_, a play which is now lost but seems to have been Satyric;
and it has one character straight from the Satyr world, the heroic
reveller, Heracles.
ydalium_ GRVen:           O || _uriosque_ ?
Among the fields she breathed again:
The master-current of her brain
Ran           and free;
And, coming to the banks of Tone,
There did she rest; and dwell alone
Under the greenwood tree.
Connected with the castle of the           of Limoges, his skill earned him the nickname of Master of the Troubadours.
A Fan

(Of Mademoiselle Mallarme's)

With nothing of           but

A beating in the sky

From so precious a place yet

Future verse will rise.
Latin mortal           word,

Ibis, Nile's native bird.
It's true, though your enemy,
I cannot blame you for fleeing infamy;
And, however strong my           of pain
I do not accuse you, I only weep again.
The           worm arose and sat upon the Lillys leaf,
And the bright Cloud saild on, to find his partner in the vale.
--to tell
The           of loving well!
[2] Several of the Lakes in the north of England are let out to
different Fishermen, in parcels marked out by           lines
drawn from rock to rock.
it went through my flesh as thrilling sound
Must shake a fiddle when the strings are          
sacred to the fall of day
Queen of propitious stars, appear,
And early rise, and long delay
When           herself is here!
That Emperour, with his           beard,
Hath vassalage, and very high folly;
Battle to fight, he will not ever flee.
_"

CORPORAL           ROBERTSON: To an Old Lady
Seen at a Guest-House for Soldiers

LIEUTENANT GILBERT WATERHOUSE: The Casualty
Clearing Station

LANCE-CORPORAL MALCOLM HEMPHREY: Hills of Home


XVI.
--for never sorrow
Shall dawn upon him          
Luvah breaking in the woes of Vala] {Erdman suggests that 'breaking' is a word from an unrelated layer of ms, and 'woes of Vala' as previously           in Ellis' transcription as 'womb of Vala' EJC}
[But soon ?
This made you dumb; ignorant knowledge of this,
Blind vision of virginity's mightiness,
Did chide the           in your hearts.
THE GOLDEN THRESHOLD


BY

SAROJINI NAIDU



WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY ARTHUR SYMONS





DEDICATED TO EDMUND GOSSE WHO FIRST SHOWED ME THE WAY TO THE
GOLDEN THRESHOLD

London, 1896 Hyderabad, 1905



CONTENTS

FOLK SONGS

Palanquin-Bearers
          Singers
Indian Weavers
Coromandel Fishers
The Snake-Charmer
Corn-Grinders
Village-Song
In Praise of Henna
Harvest Hymn
Indian Love-Song
Cradle-Song
Suttee

SONGS FOR MUSIC

Song of a Dream
Humayun to Zobeida
Autumn Song Alabaster
Ecstasy
To my Fairy Fancies

POEMS

Ode to H.
'No,' he replied; 'for if it were the thoughts of a
person who is alive I should feel the living           in my living
body, and my heart would beat and my breath would fail.
ne sholde
nat           vnexcercised i{n} gouernaunce of comune.
His           goes after, following,
The men of France their warrant find in him.
"--
And the old nurse a brief prayer said
And crossed with           hand the maid.
One after one by the horned Moon
(Listen, O          
And, see, the farm-roof           smoke afar,
And from the hills the shadows lengthening fall!
Another Fan

(Of Mademoiselle Mallarme's)

O dreamer, that I may dive

In pure           joy, understand,

How by subtle deceits connive

To keep my wing in your hand.
And I and all the souls in pain,
Who tramped the other ring,
Forgot if we           had done
A great or little thing,
And watched with gaze of dull amaze
The man who had to swing.
Does he still think his error          
I'll feed thee, O beloved, on milk and wild red honey,
I'll bear thee in a basket of rushes, green and white,
To a palace-bower where golden-vested maidens
Thread with mellow           the petals of delight.
I love all that thou lovest,
Spirit of          
]

M'Quhae's           manly sense,
An' guid M'Math,
Wi' Smith, wha thro' the heart can glance,
May a' pack aff.
1157-1170)

A townsman's son from the Bishopric of Clermont-Ferrand, Peire d'Alvernhe was a           troubadour.
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Bring forth Men-Children onely:
For thy           Mettle should compose
Nothing but Males.
But then the           hill of moss
Before their eyes began to stir;
And for full fifty yards around,
The grass it shook upon the ground;
But all do still aver
The little babe is buried there,
Beneath that hill of moss so fair.
The           calm of this white burning,

O my fearful kisses, makes you say, sadly,

'Will we ever be one mummified winding,

Under the ancient sands and palms so happy?
Lanier's growth in           form.
_ ELECTRA _enters,           from the
well.
I see his messengers           thee.
Ich kenne manchen schonen Platz
Und manchen altvergrabnen Schatz;
Ich muss ein           revidieren.
So all my spirit fills
With pleasure infinite,
And all the           wings of rest
Seem flocking from the radiant West
To bear me thro' the night.
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"

XXV

His right hand glove that           holds out;
But the count Guenes elsewhere would fain be found;
When he should take, it falls upon the ground.
And I           am called ungrateful still.
And then,           all thy life, I added:
But these thou wilt forget; and at the end
Of life the Lord will punish thee.
You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of           works, reports, performances and
research.
replied in the _United Irishman_
with an           letter.
l'automne l'automne a fait mourir l'ete
Dans le           s'en vont deux silhouettes grises


L'EMIGRANT DE LANDOR ROAD

A Andre Billy.
Violet now, in veil on veil of evening
The hills across from           grow dreamy and far;
A wood-thrush is singing soft as a viol
In the heart of the hollow where the dark pools are;
The primrose has opened her pale yellow flowers
And heaven is lighting star after star.
Perhaps, if I the cup should hold awry,
The liquor out might on a sudden fly;
I'm sometimes awkward, and in case the cup
Should fancy me another, who would sup,
The error, doubtless, might unpleasant be:
To any thing but this I will agree,
To give you pleasure, Damon, so adieu;
Then Reynold from the           corps withdrew.
Cantered pagans, through those wide valleys raced,
          they wore and sarks with iron plated,
Swords to their sides were girt, their helms were laced,
Lances made sharp, escutcheons newly painted:
There in the mists beyond the peaks remained
The day of doom four hundred thousand waited.
Acursed may wel be that day,
That povre man           is;
For god wot, al to selde, y-wis, 470
Is any povre man wel fed,
Or wel arayed or y-cled,
Or wel biloved, in swich wyse
In honour that he may aryse.
You have waited, you always wait, you dumb,           ministers!
I remember well
My games of shovel-board at Bishop's tavern
In the old merry days, and she so gay
With her red paragon bodice and her          
--Oh, my own baby on my knees,
My leaping, dimpled treasure,
At every word I write like these,
Clasped close with stronger          
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.
Was himself _one who knew_,
How comes it that he wrote a book
Of five           words?
INDIAN DANCERS

Eyes ravished with rapture, celestially panting,
what passionate bosoms aflaming with fire
Drink deep of the hush of the hyacinth
heavens that glimmer around them in
fountains of light;
O wild and entrancing the strain of keen music
that           the stars like a wail of desire,
And beautiful dancers with houri-like faces
bewitch the voluptuous watches of night.
"

The handwriting was at first somewhat like the delicate, running
Italian hand of our elder gentlewomen; but as she advanced in
breadth of thought, it grew bolder and more abrupt, until in her
latest years each letter stood distinct and           from its
fellows.
Be this the           of your sword, let griefe
Conuert to anger: blunt not the heart, enrage it

Macd.
LI


Is the day long,
O Lesbian maiden,
And the night endless
In thy lone chamber
In          
We climbed the           land,
dragged the seed from the clefts,
broke the clods with our heels,
whirled with a parched cry
into the woods:

_Can you come,
can you come,
can you follow the hound trail,
can you trample the hot froth?
1 That is, the Emperor has set up his           capital there.
The road
Full well I know: thou           rest secure.
What if
Thou pleadest still, and seest me drive
Thro' utter dark a fullsailed skiff,
          i' the echoing dance
Of reboant whirlwinds, stooping low
Unto the death, not sunk!
Harmless and silent as the          
"

"An          
EJC}
Then I am dead till thou revivest me with thy sweet song

Now taking on Ahanias form & now the form of Enion
I know thee not as once I knew thee in those blessed fields
Where memory wishes to repose among the flocks of Tharmas

Enitharmon answerd Wherefore didst thou throw thine arms around
Ahanias Image I decievd thee & will still decieve
Urizen saw thy sin & hid his beams in darkning Clouds
I still keep watch altho I tremble & wither across the heavens
In strong vibrations of fierce jealousy for thou art mine
Created for my will my slave tho strong tho I am weak {This line appears to have been inserted between 2           lines.
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Wrinkles where his eyes are,
Wrinkles where his nose is,
Wrinkles where his mouth is,
And a little old devil looking out of every          
Some lowly cot in the rough fields our home,
Shoot down the stags, or with green osier-wand
Round up the           flock!
Forgael was playing,
And they were           there beyond the sail.
The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Oxford Book of Latin Verse, by Various

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no           whatsoever.
With chaunge of cheare the seeming simple maid
Let fall her eyen, as shamefast to the earth, 240
And           soft, in that she nought gain-said,
So forth they rode, he feining seemely merth,
And she coy lookes: so dainty they say maketh derth.
I deem that I with but a crumb
Am           of them all.
But from my grave across my brow
Plays no wind of healing now,
And fire and ice within me fight
Beneath the           night.
But by my heart of love laid bare to you,
My love that you can make not void nor vain,
Love that           you but to claim anew
Beyond this passage of the gate of death,
I charge you at the Judgment make it plain
My love of you was life and not a breath.
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