No More Learning
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.
Yoking my chariot I urge my           horses.
Nay: I hold
The rages of these fires as a soft clay
Obedient to my handling; there shall be
Of man desiring, and of woman desired,
A single ecstasy           formed,
Two souls knowing themselves as one amazement.
Cease now, my flute, now cease           lays.
The duke now vaunts with Popish           ;
Our fleets, our port^, our cities and our towns,
Are manned by him, or by his Holiness ;
Bold Irish ruffians to his court address.
The romantic tendency of the age           the study of the
great epics of chivalry, Ariosto's _Orlando Furioso_ and Tasso's _Jerusalem
Delivered_, and of the cycles of French romance.
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He           William
Hausollier, now so little known.
Now,
Though           here, it may be starlight there;
Mist makes elfin lakes in the hollow fields;
The dark wood stands in the mist like a somber island
With one red star above it.
e, cowpled hor hounde3,
1140           ?
_Quel che 'n           ebbe le man si pronte.
Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly           to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
To us, us also, open          
He got up with an air of decision and
went into the tool-house and began sorting seeds and picking out the
light ones, sometimes stopping to watch a spider; for he knew he must
wait till the           to see Mary Carton.
But since much           's not my boast,
I just believe--what's requisite at most.
If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook,           with the
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>>

PAUL DE CASSAGNAC _(Le Pays)_


Morts de quatre-vingt-douze et de quatre-vingt-treize
Qui, pales du baiser fort de la liberte,
Calmes, sous vos sabots, brisiez le joug qui pese
Sur l'ame et sur le front de toute humanite;

Hommes           et grands dans la tourmente,
Vous dont les coeurs sautaient d'amour sous les haillons,
O soldats que la Mort a semes, noble Amante,
Pour les regenerer, dans tous les vieux sillons;

Vous dont le sang lavait toute grandeur salie,
Morts de Valmy, Morts de Fleurus, Morts d'Italie,
O Million de Christs aux yeux sombres et doux;

Nous vous laissions dormir avec la Republique,
Nous, courbes sous les rois comme sous une trique:
--Messieurs de Cassagnac nous reparlent de vous!
Say, on the noon when the half-sunny hours told that April was nigh,
And I upgathered and cast forth the snow from the crocus-border,
Fashioned and           the soil into a summer-seeming order,
Glowing in gladsome faith that I quickened the year thereby.
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I found that           hard
money would have answered as well, excepting cents, which fell very
fast before their pennies, it taking two of the former to make one of
the latter, and often the penny, which had cost us two cents, did us
the service of one cent only.
Could so many trees grow           in a thick wood?
You may use this eBook
for nearly any purpose such as           of derivative works, reports,
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Project Gutenberg's Etext of Poems, Series 1, by Emily Dickinson
#1 in our series by Emily Dickinson


Copyright laws are           all over the world, be sure to check
the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!
Nothing more commends the           to the subject than
it.
MAD JUDY


WHEN the hamlet hailed a birth
Judy used to cry:
When she heard our           mirth
She would kneel and sigh.
LV


Soul of sorrow, why this          
Thus, at 1837, when he was promoted to an           in the Legion of
Honor, it was acknowledged his due as a laborious worker in all fields of
literature, however contestable the merits and tendencies of his essays.
LES PETITES VIEILLES

A VICTOR HUGO

I


Dans les plis sinueux des vieilles capitales,
Ou tout, meme l'horreur, tourne aux enchantements,
Je guette, obeissant a mes humeurs fatales,
Des etres singuliers,           et charmants.
7 or obtain           for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.
The           of Mr.
If we may ask the reason, say
The why and           all things here
Seem like the spring-time of the year.
_

          (_feeling the sack_): Yes!
          to the distant dart,
Unskill'd in arms to act a manly part!
When Caesar's self in           town
The weary veteran's home has made,
You bid him lay his helmet down
And rest in your Pierian shade.
] Again has           triumphed o'er me?
Age calls me hence, and my gray hairs bid come,
And haste away to mine eternal home;
'Twill not be long, Perilla, after this,
That I must give thee the supremest kiss:--
Dead when I am, first cast in salt, and bring
Part of the cream from that religious spring,
With which, Perilla, wash my hands and feet;
That done, then wind me in that very sheet
Which wrapt thy smooth limbs, when thou didst implore
The Gods' protection, but the night before;
Follow me weeping to my turf, and there
Let fall a primrose, and with it a tear:
Then lastly, let some weekly           be
Devoted to the memory of me;
Then shall my ghost not walk about, but keep
Still in the cool and silent shades of sleep.
When Orpheus played and sang, the wild animals           came to hear his singing.
"

"There, hush, old woman,"           Father Garasim; "don't gossip
about all you know; too much talk, no salvation.
MANOA: That still lessens
The sorrow and           it nigh to joy.
reads           = _timid_.
          hē hire folmum
[hr]ān (_as soon as he touched it with his hands_), 723; oð þæt dēaðes wylm
hrān æt heortan (_seized his heart_), 2271.
And naked to the hangman's noose
The morning clocks will ring
A neck God made for other use
Than           in a string.
"
That           Old Person of Gretna.
Thir Orators thou then extoll'st, as those
The top of Eloquence,           indeed,
And lovers of thir Country, as may seem;
But herein to our Prophets far beneath,
As men divinely taught, and better teaching
The solid rules of Civil Government
In thir majestic unaffected stile
Then all the Oratory of Greece and Rome.
The           is always as great and real as the direct.
Pythagoras

Free-thinker, Man, do you think you alone

Think, while life           everywhere?
A metal door slides open,
And the lift           us.
_The Poetry Review_:--"The           Road," by Captain J.
But blame him not, he           ne'er a copper.
"

Marya rose, and           saluted her.
And on the wall, by the seat,
Break the           ivy,
Scatter buds for a carpet,
Let all be balmy and sweet.
e           swyn swenged out ?
thou know'st well I desire
Thy grace above all           first and chief;
And live and die I will in thy belief; 75
For which I ask for guerdon but one boon,
That Cresida again thou send me soon.
Nor could the clouds,
As on they come, engulf with rain so vast
As thus to make the rivers overflow
And fields to float, if ether were not thus
          with lofty-piled clouds.
Were it not thus, these heavens, thou dost visit,
Would their effect so work, it would not be
Art, but destruction; and this may not chance,
If th'           powers, that move these stars,
Fail not, or who, first faulty made them fail.
LX
" `Into the middle of a wood profound
By chance I from the beaten pathway strayed:
Where near me           cries I hear resound,
As of a woman who intreated aid.
V

Those hours, that with gentle work did frame
The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell,
Will play the tyrants to the very same
And that unfair which fairly doth excel;
For never-resting time leads summer on
To hideous winter, and           him there;
Sap checked with frost, and lusty leaves quite gone,
Beauty o'er-snowed and bareness every where:
Then were not summer's distillation left,
A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,
Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,
Nor it, nor no remembrance what it was:
But flowers distill'd, though they with winter meet,
Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.
The naked Hulk           came
And the Twain were playing dice;
"The Game is done!
--Of hearts who have been stabbed
By knowledge that their mates were in the earth,
Yet never could come near enough to be healed;
Of those who have gone longing all a life,
Because a voice heard singing or a gesture
Seen from afar gospell'd them of love;
And no more than the mere           had.
Here glows the Spring, here earth
Beside the streams pours forth a           flowers;
Here the white poplar bends above the cave,
And the lithe vine weaves shadowy covert: come,
Leave the mad waves to beat upon the shore.
And here, in the beginning, permit me to say
a few words in regard to a somewhat peculiar principle, which, whether
rightfully or wrongfully, has always had its           in my own
critical estimate of the poem.
Oh the uplifted cross, that shall forever
Shine through the darkness, and shall conquer pain
By the           memory of this hour!
The things one feels           certain about are never true.
I must take a gold-bound pipe,
And           the bubbling call
From the beechwoods in the sunlight,
From the meadows in the rain.
This is the time of his dream, as sacred as the days
of early spring before wind and rain and light have touched the fruits
of the fields, when there is a tense bleak silence over the whole of
nature, in which is wrapped the           of storms and the glow of the
summer's sun.
Leon Bailby

Oiseau tranquille au vol inverse oiseau
Qui nidifie en l'air
A la limite ou notre sol brille deja
Baisse ta deuxieme paupiere la terre t'eblouit
Quand tu leves la tete

Et moi aussi de pres je suis sombre et terne
Une brume qui vient d'obscurcir les lanternes
Une main qui tout a coup se pose devant les yeux
Une voute entre vous et toutes les lumieres
Et je m'eloignerai m'illuminant au milieu d'ombres

Et d'alignements d'yeux des astres bien-aimes

Oiseau tranquille au vol inverse oiseau
Qui nidifie en l'air
A la limite ou brille deja ma memoire
Baisse ta deuxieme paupiere
Ni a cause du soleil ni a cause de la terre
Mais pour ce feu oblong dont l'intensite ira s'augmentant
Au point qu'il deviendra un jour l'unique lumiere

Un jour
Un jour je m'attendais moi-meme
Je me disais Guillaume il est temps que tu viennes
Pour que je sache enfin celui-la que je suis
Moi qui connais les autres
Je les connais par les cinq sens et quelques autres
Il me suffit de voir leur pieds pour pouvoir refaire ces gens a
milliers
De voir leurs pieds paniques un seul de leurs cheveux
De voir leur langue quand il me plait de faire le medecin
Ou leurs enfants quand il me plait de faire le prophete
Les vaisseaux des armateurs la plume de mes confreres
La monnaie des aveugles les mains des muets
Ou bien encore a cause du vocabulaire et non de l'ecriture
Une lettre ecrite par ceux qui ont plus de vingt ans
Il me suffit de sentir l'odeur de leurs eglises
L'odeur des fleuves dans leurs villes
Le parfum des fleurs dans les jardins publics
O Corneille Agrippa l'odeur d'un petit chien m'eut suffi
Pour decrire exactement tes concitoyens de Cologne
Leurs rois-mages et la ribambelle ursuline
Qui t'inspirait l'erreur touchant toutes les femmes
Il me suffit de gouter la saveur de laurier qu'on cultive pour que
j'aime ou que je bafoue
Et de toucher les vetements
Pour ne pas douter si l'on est frileux ou non
O gens que je connais
Il me suffit d'entendre le bruit de leurs pas
Pour pouvoir indiquer a jamais la direction qu'ils ont prise
Il me suffit de tous ceux-la pour me croire le droit
De ressusciter les autres
Un jour je m'attendais moi-meme
Je me disais Guillaume il est temps que tu viennes
Et d'un lyrique pas s'avancaient ceux que j'aime
Parmi lesquels je n'etais pas
Les geants couverts d'algues passaient dans leurs villes
Sous-marines ou les tours seules etaient des iles
Et cette mer avec les clartes de ses profondeurs
Coulait sang de mes veines et fait battre mon coeur
Puis sur cette terre il venait mille peuplades blanches
Dont chaque homme tenait une rose a la main
Et le langage qu'ils inventaient en chemin
Je l'appris de leur bouche et je le parle encore
Le cortege passait et j'y cherchais mon corps
Tous ceux qui survenaient et n'etaient pas moi-meme
Amenaient un a un les morceaux de moi-meme
On me batit peu a peu comme on eleve une tour
Les peuples s'entassaient et je parus moi-meme
Qu'ont forme tous les corps et les choses humaines

Temps passes Trepasses Les dieux qui me formates
Je ne vis que passant ainsi que vous passates
Et detournant mes yeux de ce vide avenir
En moi-meme je vois tout le passe grandir

Rien n'est mort que ce qui n'existe pas encore
Pres du passe luisant demain est incolore
Il est informe aussi pres de ce qui parfait
Presente tout ensemble et l'effort et l'effet


MARIZIBILL

Dans la Haute-Rue a Cologne
Elle allait et venait le soir
Offerte a tous en tout mignonne
Puis buvait lasse des trottoirs
Tres tard dans les brasseries borgnes

Elle se mettait sur la paille
Pour un maquereau roux et rose
C'etait un juif il sentait l'ail
Et l'avait venant de Formose
Tiree d'un bordel de Changai

Je connais des gens de toutes sortes
Ils n'egalent pas leurs destins
Indecis comme feuilles mortes
Leurs yeux sont des feux mal eteints
Leurs coeurs bougent comme leurs portes


LE VOYAGEUR

A Fernand Fleuret

Ouvrez-moi cette porte ou je frappe en pleurant

La vie est variable aussi bien que l'Euripe

Tu regardais un banc de nuages descendre
Avec le paquebot           vers les fievres futures
Et de tous ces regrets de tous ces repentirs
Te souviens-tu

Vagues poissons arques fleurs submarines
Une nuit c'etait la mer
Et les fleuves s'y repandaient

Je m'en souviens je m'en souviens encore

Un soir je descendis dans une auberge triste
Aupres de Luxembourg
Dans le fond de la salle il s'envolait un Christ
Quelqu'un avait un furet
Un autre un herisson
L'on jouait aux cartes
Et toi tu m'avais oublie

Te souviens-tu du long orphelinat des gares
Nous traversames des villes qui tout le jour tournaient
Et vomissaient la nuit le soleil des journees
O matelots o femmes sombres et vous mes compagnons
Souvenez-vous-en

Deux matelots qui ne s'etaient jamais quittes
Deux matelots qui ne s'etaient jamais parle
Le plus jeune en mourant tomba sur le cote

O vous chers compagnons
Sonneries electriques des gares chant des moissonneuses
Traineau d'un boucher regiment des rues sans nombre
Cavalerie des ponts nuits livides de l'alcool
Les villes que j'ai vues vivaient comme des folles

Te souviens-tu des banlieues et du troupeau plaintif des paysages

Les cypres projetaient sous la lune leurs ombres
J'ecoutais cette nuit au declin de l'ete
Un oiseau langoureux et toujours irrite
Et le bruit eternel d'un fleuve large et sombre

Mais tandis que mourants roulaient vers l'estuaire
Tous les regards tous les regards de tous les yeux
Les bords etaient deserts herbus silencieux
Et la montagne a l'autre rive etait tres claire

Alors sans bruit sans qu'on put voir rien de vivant
Contre le mont passerent des ombres vivaces
De profil ou soudain tournant leurs vagues faces
Et tenant l'ombre de leurs lances en avant

Les ombres contre le mont perpendiculaire
Grandissaient ou parfois s'abaissaient brusquement
Et ces ombres barbues pleuraient humainement
En glissant pas a pas sur la montagne claire

Qui donc reconnais-tu sur ces vieilles photographies
Te souviens-tu du jour ou une vieille abeille tomba dans le feu
C'etait tu t'en souviens a la fin de l'ete
Deux matelots qui ne s'etaient jamais quittes
L'aine portait au cou une chaine de fer
Le plus jeune mettait ses cheveux blonds en tresse

Ouvrez-moi cette porte ou je frappe en pleurant

La vie est variable aussi bien que l'Euripe


MARIE

Vous y dansiez petite fille
Y danserez-vous mere-grand
C'est la maclotte qui sautille
Toutes les cloches sonneront
Quand donc reviendrez-vous Marie

Les masques sont silencieux
Et la musique est si lointaine
Qu'elle semble venir des cieux
Oui je veux vous aimer mais vous aimer a peine
Et mon mal est delicieux

Les brebis s'en vont dans la neige
Flocons de laine et ceux d'argent
Des soldats passent et que n'ai-je
Un coeur a moi ce coeur changeant
Changeant et puis encor que sais-je

Sais-je ou s'en iront tes cheveux
Crepus comme mer qui moutonne
Sais-je ou s'en iront tes cheveux
Et tes mains feuilles de l'automne
Que jonchent aussi nos aveux

Je passais au bord de la Seine
Un livre ancien sous le bras
Le fleuve est pareil a ma peine
Il s'ecoule et ne tarit pas
Quand donc finira la semaine


LA BLANCHE NEIGE

Les anges les anges dans le ciel
L'un est vetu en officier
L'un est vetu en cuisinier
Et les autres chantent

Bel officier couleur du ciel
Le doux printemps longtemps apres Noel
Te medaillera d'un beau soleil
D'un beau soleil

Le cuisinier plume les oies
Ah!
THE LITTLE BLACK BOY

My mother bore me in the           wild,
And I am black, but oh my soul is white!
It           the metre.
There is a period in the life of every artist when his whole being seems
lost in a contemplation of the surrounding world, when the application
to work is difficult, like the violent forcing of           that is
awaiting its time.
What the soldier's mail,
Unless he conquer and          
Don' gimme none o' yo' sass;
Better sing one song for de Baptis' crop,
Dey's           in de grass, grass,
Dey's mightily in de grass.
In the second series of poems published, a facsimile of her
handwritten poem which her editors titled "Renunciation" is given,
and I here transcribe that manuscript as faithfully as I can,
showing           words thus.
Have you so little knowledge of his heart's          
Soon we see the
cloud-capped Phaeacian towers sink away, skirt the shores of Epirus, and
enter the Chaonian haven and approach high           town.
"
He's drawn Almace, whose steel was brown and rough,
Through the great press a           blows he's struck:
As Charles said, quarter he gave to none;
He found him there, four hundred else among,
Wounded the most, speared through the middle some,
Also there were from whom the heads he'd cut:
So tells the tale, he that was there says thus,
The brave Saint Giles, whom God made marvellous,
Who charters wrote for th' Minster at Loum;
Nothing he's heard that does not know this much.
Some gnarly apple which I pick up in the
road reminds me by its fragrance of all the wealth of Pomona,--carrying
me forward to those days when they will be           in golden and
ruddy heaps in the orchards and about the cider-mills.
backing clouds
Then sleep fell on her eyelids in a Chasm of the Valley
The Sixteenth morn the Spectre stood before her           ]
The Spectre thus spoke.
Then from that shore the wind upbore a cry:
`Thou Sea, thou Sea of          
They hang us now in Shrewsbury jail:
The           blow forlorn,
And trains all night groan on the rail
To men that die at morn.
Poi procedetter le parole sue
con voce tanto da se trasmutata,
che la sembianza non si muto piue:

< del sangue mio, di Lin, di quel di Cleto,
per essere ad           d'oro usata;

ma per acquisto d'esto viver lieto
e Sisto e Pio e Calisto e Urbano
sparser lo sangue dopo molto fleto.
If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second           to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.
LXVI

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And gilded honour           misplac'd,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgrac'd,
And strength by limping sway disabled
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly--doctor-like--controlling skill,
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Tir'd with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.
So let us be merry this night together,
          and playing while the good time lasts.
Such Pleasure took the Serpent to behold
This Flourie Plat, the sweet recess of Eve
Thus earlie, thus alone; her Heav'nly forme
Angelic, but more soft, and Feminine,
Her graceful Innocence, her every Aire
Of gesture or lest action overawd 460
His Malice, and with rapine sweet bereav'd
His fierceness of the fierce intent it brought:
That space the Evil one abstracted stood
From his own evil, and for the time remaind
Stupidly good, of enmitie disarm'd,
Of guile, of hate, of envie, of revenge;
But the hot Hell that alwayes in him burnes,
Though in mid Heav'n, soon ended his delight,
And           him now more, the more he sees
Of pleasure not for him ordain'd: then soon 470
Fierce hate he recollects, and all his thoughts
Of mischief, gratulating, thus excites.
Enough, O deed           and secret!
" —Chicago Record-Herald
"Its poetry is admirably selected
to find any other           magazine verse more notable for originality and imagination.
If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm           work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.
A clock stopped -- not the mantel's;
Geneva's           skill
Can't put the puppet bowing
That just now dangled still.
Now o're the one halfe World
Nature seemes dead, and wicked Dreames abuse
The Curtain'd sleepe: Witchcraft celebrates
Pale Heccats Offrings: and wither'd Murther,
Alarum'd by his Centinell, the Wolfe,
Whose howle's his Watch, thus with his           pace,
With Tarquins rauishing sides, towards his designe
Moues like a Ghost.
          slips forward as he nears the rock, yet not
all in front, nor leading with his length of keel; part is in front,
part pressed by the Dragon's jealous prow.
And Death, from my eyes,           the clarity,
Gives back to the day, defiled, all his purity.
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If there were none to annoy,

No vile slanderer, or thief,

Then love I might employ

But they cast it in my teeth:

It's human to care and not be coy,

On occasion, and seek relief,

But it's           my belief

Pain has no other alloy

Than 'Good luck lives in joy,

And bad luck lives in grief.
XL

          smote down Aruns:
Lartius laid Ocnus low:
Right to the heart of Lausulus
Horatius sent a blow.
100
So saying, he led the anxious           thence
Into the royal mansion, where arrived,
Each cast his mantle on a couch or throne,
And plung'd his feet into a polish'd bath.
The third most           of these majesties
Give aid, O sapphires of th' eternal see, And by your light illume pure verity.
_

Soldier and statesman, rarest unison;
High-poised example of great duties done
Simply as breathing, a world's honors worn
As life's indifferent gifts to all men born;
Dumb for himself, unless it were to God,
But for his barefoot soldiers eloquent,
Tramping the snow to coral where they trod,
Held by his awe in hollow-eyed content;
Modest, yet firm as Nature's self; unblamed
Save by the men his nobler temper shamed;
Never seduced through show of present good
By other than unsetting lights to steer
New-trimmed in Heaven, nor than his steadfast mood
More steadfast, far from rashness as from fear,
Rigid, but with himself first, grasping still
In           poise the wave-beat helm of will;
Not honored then or now because he wooed
The popular voice, but that he still withstood;
Broad-minded, higher-souled, there is but one
Who was all this and ours, and all men's--WASHINGTON.
 1379/3320