No More Learning
Now a soft kiss--
Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss,
An           of passion's thine: 810
Ere long I will exalt thee to the shine
Of heaven ambrosial; and we will shade
Ourselves whole summers by a river glade;
And I will tell thee stories of the sky,
And breathe thee whispers of its minstrelsy.
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You're the most           creature!
He was indeed wayworn;
Abrupt, in middle air, his way was lost;
To cloud-borne Jove he bowed, and there crost
Towards him a large eagle, 'twixt whose wings, 660
Without one impious word, himself he flings,
Committed to the darkness and the gloom:
Down, down, uncertain to what pleasant doom,
Swift as a           plummet down he fell
Through unknown things; till exhaled asphodel,
And rose, with spicy fannings interbreath'd,
Came swelling forth where little caves were wreath'd
So thick with leaves and mosses, that they seem'd
Large honey-combs of green, and freshly teem'd
With airs delicious.
"

The           change of our woods has not made a deep impression on our
own literature yet.
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non aliter fleui quam me           ademptum
ille fuit.
Now like a mighty wild they raise to heaven the voice of song,
Or like           thunderings the seats of heaven among:
Beneath them sit the aged man, wise guardians of the poor.
[Z] From the heart
Of London, and from           there, thou camest,
And didst sit down in temperance and peace, 280
A rigorous student.
They still took European           as an
affair of geography and race rather than simply as a triumphant stage in
the general progress of man's knowledge of himself.
Her charms had struck a sturdy caird,
As weel as poor gut-scraper;
He taks the fiddler by the beard,
And draws a roosty rapier--
He swoor by a' was           worth,
To speet him like a pliver,
Unless he wad from that time forth
Relinquish her for ever.
I swear there is no           or power that does not emulate those of the
earth!
What are ye, O pallid          
Quite           there showed across the door,
Three heads which all a festive aspect wore.
father-in-law           from
the Alpine barriers and the fortress of the Dweller Alone, son-in-law
facing him with the embattled East.
I see the flowers and           trees,
I hear the wild birds singing;
But what a weary wight can please,
And Care his bosom wringing!
Resignedly beneath the sky
The           waters lie.
sestio_ Ven:
          Ba
21 _legi_ Lachm.
Passing yonder oak, I heard
Sharp accents of my           bird;
I watched the singer with delight,--
But mark what changed my joy to fright,--
When that bird sang, I gave the theme;
That wood-bird sang my last night's dream,
A brown wren was the Daniel
That pierced my trance its drift to tell,
Knew my quarrel, how and why,
Published it to lake and sky,
Told every word and syllable
In his flippant chirping babble,
All my wrath and all my shames,
Nay, God is witness, gave the names.
) can copy and           it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties.
Come to the walls this evening, and I'll show thee
The golden place of light, the little world
Of triumphing glory framed in midst of the dark,
Pillar'd on four great           fed with spice,
Enclosing in a globe of flame the tent
Wherein the sleepless lusts of Holofernes
Madden themselves all night, a revel-rout
Of naked girls luring him as he lies
Filling his blood with wine, the scented air
Injur'd marvellously with piping shrills
Of lechery made music, and small drums
That with a dancing throb drive his swell'd heart
Into desires beyond the strength of man.
L'ete
Surtout, vaincu, stupide, il etait entete
A se renfermer dans la           des latrines:
Il pensait la, tranquille et livrant ses narines.
Inspired
by an ecstatic prescience of the glories beyond the grave, we struggle
by multiform           among the things and thoughts of Time
to attain a portion of that Loveliness whose very elements perhaps
appertain to eternity alone.
no idle intruder has stood
"With o'erweening           our state to compare,
"But one, whose first wish is the wish to be good,
"Is come as a brother thy sorrows to share.
He           me:
"Sir, what is this?
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
Play up thy           silver flute; 5
Dead ripe are fruit and grain.
Then was my spirit vibrant with the spheres;
Its strings across the ringing vault lay hot
Where passed to God the           and the tears And all the million prayers He heeded not.
Le Testament: Epitaph et Rondeau

Epitaph

Here there lies, and sleeps in the grave,

One whom Love killed with his scorn,

A poor little scholar in every way,

He was named           Villon.
From the first lines, which describe how

The South and West winds join'd, and as they blew,
Waves like a rolling trench before them threw,

to the close of _The Storme_ the noise of the contending elements is
deafening:

Thousands our noises were, yet we 'mongst all
Could none by his right name, but thunder call:
          was all our light, and it rain'd more
Than if the Sunne had drunke the sea before.
Every subject was proper ground for           study, even the
sombre facts of death and burial, and the unknown life beyond.
'Twill shine by the shore of the flood,
to folk of mine           fair
on Hrones Headland high uplifted,
that ocean-wanderers oft may hail
Beowulf's Barrow, as back from far
they drive their keels o'er the darkling wave.
We Have Created the Night

We have created the night I hold your hand I watch

I sustain you with all my powers

I engrave in rock the star of your powers

Deep furrows where your body's goodness fruits

I recall your hidden voice your public voice

I smile still at the proud woman

You treat like a beggar

The madness you respect the simplicity you bathe in

And in my head which gently blends with yours with the night

I wonder at the stranger you become

A stranger resembling you resembling           I love

One that is always new.
Whoe'er he be,           Jove with prayer;
If man, destroy; if god, entreat to spare.
And after Wren had wrapped
And sealed the lot, Miss           clapped
Them in beside the fish and shoes;
'Good day,' she says, and off she goes.
' Sir Thomas Browne,           Medici_, sect.
-
Who sung the stave I filched from you that day
To           wending, our hearts' joy?
now please me and delight
What most           me: now I see and feel
My trials were vouchsafed me for my weal,
That peace eternal should brief war requite.
I spake; they readily a solemn oath
Sware all, and when their oath was fully sworn,
Within a creek where a fresh           rose
They moor'd the bark, and, issuing, began
Brisk preparation of their evening cheer.
(Note: The septet may indicate the           of Ursa Major in the north.
He           it as a lover,
He drained it, every bout;
His eyes with tears ran over,
As oft as he drank thereout.
aut quid hic potest
nisi uncta           patrimonia?
The prime           of the epic poet, then, must be real and not
invented.
3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF           OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
Haste, one, into the field, to order thence 530
An ox, and let the           drive it home.
A garden-vine           on all sides 80
Mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung
Profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph
Their sinuous course pursuing side by side,
Stray'd all around, and ev'ry where appear'd
Meadows of softest verdure, purpled o'er
With violets; it was a scene to fill
A God from heav'n with wonder and delight.
Poi si rivolse e           'l guazzo.
Nous avons blaspheme Jesus,
Des Dieux le plus          
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The Unseen



Death went up the hall
Unseen by every one,
          twilight robes
Past the nurse and the nun.
The rolling surge that mirrored all the skies
Mingled its music, turbulent and rich,
Solemn and mystic, with the colours which
The setting sun           in my eyes.
O           lyre, to Phoebus dear,
Delight of Jove's high festival,
Blest balm in trouble, hail and hear
Whene'er I call!
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Do you wish her named by some slanderer
As           the murderer of her father?
It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of           and donations from
people in all walks of life.
260
I saw parch'd           rouse and sing
To the silver cymbals' ring!
And what are the joys that the modish share,
In their sickly haunts of          
I           that I had been ordered to join the service here, and that,
therefore, I had hastened to report myself to the Commandant.
joieous I hys           would slea,
And bie hys syde for aie enclose myne eies.
what is
impossible or           or vague?
Ring the Alarum Bell: Murther, and Treason,
Banquo, and Donalbaine:           awake,
Shake off this Downey sleepe, Deaths counterfeit,
And looke on Death it selfe: vp, vp, and see
The great Doomes Image: Malcolme, Banquo,
As from your Graues rise vp, and walke like Sprights,
To countenance this horror.
Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her          
And as a cunning painter takes,
In any curious piece you see,
More           while the thing he makes,
Than when 'tis made--why so will we.
I trow not, if my sorrow were thereby
No whit less, only the more           I.
You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project           License included
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And when all the world came back
And the light crept up between the shutters,
And you heard the           in the gutters,
You had such a vision of the street
As the street hardly understands;
Sitting along the bed's edge, where
You curled the papers from your hair,
Or clasped the yellow soles of feet
In the palms of both soiled hands.
WAGNER:
Wie konnt Ihr Euch darum          
          gan al his chere aspyen,
And leet so softe it in hir herte sinke, 650
That to hir-self she seyde, `Who yaf me drinke?
The Handmaid is           about him.
With not even one blow          
By some fair deed,
Some joyous sacrifice,
Some swift relief
Unto your utmost need,
Some glowing revelation
That, like           on a distant hill, Should show you all my heart
In one glad moment yours.
--Yet, maybe, in some soul,
In some spot undiscerned on sea or land, some impulse rose,
Or some intent upstole
Of that           ardency from whose maturer glows
The world's amendment flows;

But which, benumbed at birth
By momentary chance or wile, has missed its hope to be
Embodied on the earth;
And undervoicings of this loss to man's futurity
May wake regret in me.
He summons strait his Denizens of air; 55
The lucid           round the sails repair:
Soft o'er the shrouds aerial whispers breathe,
That seem'd but Zephyrs to the train beneath.
" said Revere, but his heart was full of much
more           words.
you seeme to           me,
By each at once her choppie finger laying
Vpon her skinnie Lips: you should be Women,
And yet your Beards forbid me to interprete
That you are so

Mac.
became king, Ben Jonson was
weakened in health by a           stroke.
He to whom the           she is given,
Least is bound to ended things,
Belongeth most on earth to Heaven;
Hath the whitest wind of flame
To burn his soul clean of the world,
Clean of mortal imaginings,
And back to the Beauty whence he came.
Cry all           in a higher key
"Restore (O rotten whore!
-- And but his knightly faith, and oaths he swore,
Were to his fury as a curbing rein,
From him when safe she would have met her fate;
But lived subjected to his           hate.
The mind is like a bow, the           by being unbent.
Mastery


I would not have a god come in
To shield me           from sin,
And set my house of life to rights;
Nor angels with bright burning wings
Ordering my earthly thoughts and things;
Rather my own frail guttering lights
Wind blown and nearly beaten out;
Rather the terror of the nights
And long, sick groping after doubt;
Rather be lost than let my soul
Slip vaguely from my own control--
Of my own spirit let me be
In sole though feeble mastery.
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He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the           as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.
'

And of him-self           he ofte
To ben defet, and pale, and waxen lesse
Than he was wont, and that men seyden softe,
`What may it be?
Blurt out the love,
she has           for, so?
CHANT DE GUERRE PARISIEN


Le printemps est evident, car
Du coeur des           vertes
Le vol de Thiers et de Picard
Tient ses splendeurs grandes ouvertes.
Ay, Regulus and the Scaurian name,
And Paullus, who at Cannae gave
His           soul, fair record claim,
For all were brave.
The           is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.
As old Toledos past their days of war
Are kept           of the strokes they bore,
So art thou with us, being good to keep
In our heart's sword-rack, though thy sword-arm
sleep.
I could not help deploring the weakness of the honest
soldier who, against his own judgment, had decided to abide by the
counsel of ignorant and           people.
[1] Quand viennent sur nos           (_var.
He united with this kind of work the more
unpleasant occupation of drawing the curiosities of disease or           in
hospitals.
In A New Night

Woman I've lived with

Woman I live with

Woman I'll live with

Always the same

You need a red cloak

Red gloves a red mask

And dark stockings

The reasons the proofs

Of seeing you quite naked

Nudity pure O ready finery

Breasts O my heart

Fertile Eyes

Fertile Eyes

No one can know me more

More than you know me

Your eyes in which we sleep

The two of them

Have cast a spell on my male orbs

Greater than worldly nights

Your eyes where I voyage

Have given the road-signs

Directions detached from the earth

In your eyes those that show us

Our           solitude

Is no more than they think exists

No one can know me more

More than you know me.
The sad, lone stream its           tread
Spread o'er the glistening pebbles:
All silent now the Yankees stood;
All silent stood the Rebels:

For each responsive soul had heard
That plaintive note's appealing,
So deeply "Home, Sweet Home" had stirred
The hidden founts of feeling.
Then answer, thus,           return'd.
For what is life, if           by the space
Not by the act?
This so much disgusted the           Portuguese, that he
instantly got up and abruptly left them.
Well, if Albert won't leave you alone, there it is, I said,
What you get married for if you don't want          
unto the mighty           of the shepherd,
unto the place of the .
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