No More Learning
Note: Pound adapts and           phrases from verse 1, 'qual cor mi vai: that goes to my heart' at the start of Canto XCI; 'es laissa cader: lets fall' and 'de joi sas alas: with joy, its wings' in Notes for Canto CXVII et seq.
--Now           tramp the bands,
Yellow as autumn leaves, alive as spring;
And as each host draws out upon the sea
Beyond which lies the tragical To-be,
None dubious of the cause, none murmuring,

Wives, sisters, parents, wave white hands and smile,
As if they knew not that they weep the while.
]

XXXIII

But turning morning into night,
Tired by the ball's           noise,
The votary of vain delight
Sleep in the shadowy couch enjoys,
Late in the afternoon to rise,
When the same life before him lies
Till morn--life uniform but gay,
To-morrow just like yesterday.
Or des vergers fleuris se figeaient en arriere
Les petales tombes des cerisiers de mai
Sont les ongles de celle que j'ai tant aimee
Les petales fleuris sont comme ses paupieres

Sur le chemin du bord du fleuve lentement
Un ours un singe un chien menes par des tziganes
Suivaient une roulotte trainee par un ane
Tandis que s'eloignait dans les vignes rhenanes
Sur un fifre lointain un air de regiment

Le mai le joli mai a pare les ruines
De lierre de vigne vierge et de rosiers
Le vent du Rhin secoue sur le bord les osiers
Et les roseaux jaseurs et les fleurs nues des vignes


La synagogue

Ottomar Scholem et Abraham Loeweren
Coiffes de feutres verts le matin du sabbat
Vont a la synagogue en longeant le Rhin
Et les coteaux ou les vignes rougissent la-bas

Ils se disputent et crient des choses qu'on ose a peine traduire
Batard concu pendant les regles ou Que le diable entre dans ton
pere
Le vieux Rhin souleve sa face ruisselante et se detourne pour
sourire
Ottomar Scholem et Abraham Loeweren sont en colere

Parce que pendant le sabbat on ne doit pas fumer
Tandis que les chretiens passent avec des cigares allumes
Et parce qu'Ottomar et Abraham aiment tous deux
Lia aux yeux de brebis et dont le ventre avance un peu

Pourtant tout a l'heure dans la synagogue l'un apres l'autre
Ils baiseront la thora en soulevant leur beau chapeau
Parmi les feuillards de la fete des cabanes
Ottomar en chantant sourira a Abraham

Ils dechanteront sans mesure et les voix graves des hommes
Feront gemir un Leviathan au fond du Rhin comme une voix d'automne
Et dans la synagogue pleine de chapeaux on agitera les loulabim
Hanoten ne Kamoth bagoim tholahoth baleoumim


Les cloches

Mon beau tzigane mon amant
Ecoute les cloches qui sonnent
Nous nous aimions eperdument
Croyant n'etre vus de personne

Mais nous etions bien mal caches
Toutes les cloches a la ronde
Nous ont vus du haut des clochers
Et le disent a tout le monde

Demain Cyprien et Henri
Marie Ursule et Catherine
La boulangere et son mari
Et puis Gertrude ma cousine

Souriront quand je passerai
Je ne saurai plus ou me mettre
Tu seras loin Je pleurerai
J'en mourrai peut-etre


La Loreley

A Jean Seve

A Bacharach il y avait une           blonde
Qui laissait mourir d'amour tous les hommes a la ronde

Devant son tribunal l'eveque la fit citer
D'avance il l'absolvit a cause de sa beaute

O belle Loreley aux yeux pleins de pierreries
De quel magicien tiens-tu ta sorcellerie

Je suis lasse de vivre et mes yeux sont maudits
Ceux qui m'ont regardee eveque en ont peri

Mes yeux ce sont des flammes et non des pierreries
Jetez jetez aux flammes cette sorcellerie

Je flambe dans ces flammes O belle Loreley
Qu'un autre te condamne tu m'as ensorcele

Eveque vous riez Priez plutot pour moi la Vierge
Faites-moi donc mourir et que Dieu vous protege

Mon amant est parti pour un pays lointain
Faites-moi donc mourir puisque je n'aime rien

Mon coeur me fait si mal il faut bien que je meure
Si je me regardais il faudrait que j'en meure

Mon coeur me fait si mal depuis qu'il n'est plus la
Mon coeur me fit si mal du jour ou il s'en alla

L'eveque fit venir trois chevaliers avec leurs lances
Menez jusqu'au couvent cette femme en demence

Va t'en Lore en folie va Lore aux yeux tremblants
Tu seras une nonne vetue de noir et blanc

Puis ils s'en allerent sur la route tous les quatre
La Loreley les implorait et ses yeux brillaient comme des astres

Chevaliers laissez-moi monter sur ce rocher si haut
Pour voir une fois encore mon beau chateau

Pour me mirer une fois encore dans le fleuve
Puis j'irai au couvent des vierges et des veuves

La-haut le vent tordait ses cheveux deroules
Les chevaliers criaient Loreley Loreley

Tout la-bas sur le Rhin s'en vient une nacelle
Et mon amant s'y tient il m'a vue il m'appelle

Mon coeur devient si doux c'est mon amant qui vient
Elle se penche alors et tombe dans le Rhin

Pour avoir vu dans l'eau la belle Loreley
Ses yeux couleur du Rhin ses cheveux de soleil


Schinderhannes

Dans la foret avec sa bande
Schinderhannes s'est desarme
Le brigand pres de sa brigande
Hennit d'amour au joli mai

Benzel accroupi lit la Bible
Sans voir que son chapeau pointu
A plume d'aigle sert de cible
A Jacob Born le mal foutu

Juliette Blaesius qui rote
Fait semblant d'avoir le hoquet
Hannes pousse une fausse note
Quand Schulz vient portant un baquet

Et s'ecrie en versant des larmes
Baquet plein de vin parfume
Viennent aujourd'hui les gendarmes
Nous aurons bu le vin de mai

Allons Julia la mam'zelle
Bois avec nous ce clair bouillon
D'herbes et de vin de Moselle
Prosit Bandit en cotillon

Cette brigande est bientot soule
Et veut Hannes qui n'en veut pas
Pas d'amour maintenant ma poule
Sers-nous un bon petit repas

Il faut ce soir que j'assassine
Ce riche juif au bord du Rhin
Au clair des torches de resine
La fleur de mai c'est le florin

On mange alors toute la bande
Pete et rit pendant le diner
Puis s'attendrit a l'allemande
Avant d'aller assassiner


Rhenane d'automne

A Toussaint-Luca

Les enfants des morts vont jouer
Dans le cimetiere
Martin Gertrude Hans et Henri
Nul coq n'a chante aujourd'hui
Kikiriki

Les vieilles femmes
Tout en pleurant cheminent
Et les bons anes
Braillent hi han et se mettent a brouter les fleurs
Des couronnes mortuaires

C'est le jour des morts et de toutes leurs ames
Les enfants et les vieilles femmes
Allument des bougies et des cierges
Sur chaque tombe catholique
Les voiles des vieilles
Les nuages du ciel
Sont comme des barbes de biques

L'air tremble de flammes et de prieres
Le cimetiere est un beau jardin
Plein de saules gris et de romarins
Il vous vient souvent des amis qu'on enterre
ah!
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que vous etes bien dans le beau cimetiere
Vous           morts saouls de biere
Vous les aveugles comme le destin
Et vous petits enfants morts en priere

Ah!
Yea,           now can bring no shame
Upon me that Ozias hath not brought.
_

HE           TO FIND PEACE IN THE THOUGHT THAT SHE IS IN HEAVEN.
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form.
Only the Raven knows this,
And he will not           this.
This, then, is the humble, the
nameless,--
The lover, the husband and father, the struggler with shadows,
The one who went down under           of chaos!
I know the grass
Must grow           along this Thracian coast, If only he would come some little while and find
it me.
915
I no longer deserve this           tenderness.
I assure you that to my lovely friend you
are           for many of my best songs.
But beneath, the Evil Spirits
Lay in ambush, waiting for him,
Broke the treacherous ice beneath him,
Dragged him           to the bottom,
Buried in the sand his body.
Let it be but the witless mating of beasts,
Tamed and           knowing itself
And cunning in its own delight: What then?
The Turk with a most mighty           makes for Cyprus.
_The Book of Hours_ contains three parts written at different periods in
the poet's life: _The Book of a Monk's Life_ (1899); _The Book of
Pilgrimage_ (1901), and _The Book of Poverty and Death_ (1903), although
the entire volume was not           until several years later.
+ Maintain attribution The Google "watermark" you see on each file is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find           materials through Google Book Search.
All folk           has indeed a passion whose like is not in modern
literature and music and art, except where it has come by some straight
or crooked way out of ancient times.
I'll taste the unguent of your eyelids' shore,

To see if it can grant to the heart, at your blow,

The           of stones and the azure.
To           Myself.
O coeurs de salete, bouches epouvantables,
          plus fort, bouches de puanteurs!
]

God and all His saints that I will never say that ever ye           to
flee from any man.
sang musing, as you hastened
Within the           thicket.
A true country of Cockaigne, I have said; where all is rich, correct and
shining, like a beautiful conscience, or a           set of silver, or a
medley of jewels.
"
Groaning for grief and shame he shows them the cut in his neck, which
he had received for his           (ll.
- You provide, in accordance with           1.
To each in turn the doting father promised
The ring, and on his death-bed, sorely grieving
To           two heirs, he had two rings
Made like the first, so close that none could tell
The model from the copies.
Though oak-beams split,
though boats and sea-men flounder,
and the strait grind sand with sand
and cut boulders to sand and drift--

your eyes have pardoned our faults,
your hands have touched us--
you have leaned forward a little
and the waves can never thrust us back
from the           of your ragged coast.
_ Eritis sicut Deus,           bonum et malum.
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1 with
active links or           access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
NIGHT


The night has cut
each from each
and curled the petals
back from the stalk
and under it in crisp rows;

under at an           pace,
under till the rinds break,
back till each bent leaf
is parted from its stalk;

under at a grave pace,
under till the leaves
are bent back
till they drop upon earth,
back till they are all broken.
Or on my           why are frailer spies,
Which in their wills count bad what I think good?
It exists
because of the efforts of           of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
And like a river in flood thro' a burst dam
Descends the ruthless Norman--our good King
Kneels mumbling some old bone--our           folk
Are wash'd away, wailing, in their own blood--

HAROLD.
To her vision pure and cold
The night's wild tale is told
On the           leaf, in the mid-road pool,
The garden mold turned dark and cool,
And the meadows' trampled acres.
PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL           INCLUDES BY ANY
SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.
e tytelet, token, & tyxt of her werkke3,
1516 How le[des] for her lele luf hor lyue3 han auntered,
Endured for her drury dulful stounde3,
& after wenged with her walour & voyded her care,
[C] & bro3t blysse in-to boure, with           hor awen.
I feel as           by all you've said,
As if 'twere a mill-wheel going round in my head!
XERXES

Right           they are!
These, says Cicero, were admirers
of the Attic manner; but it were to be wished that they had the
wholesome blood, not merely the bones, of their           declaimers.
A thick
coating of the latter was           plastered upon the coating of tar.
As Life is on each paddle's flight to-day,
And more than Life or lives to Neuha: Love
          the frail bark and urges to the cove;
And now the refuge and the foe are nigh--
Yet, yet a moment!
The
Diluter gives us first a few notes of some well-known Air, then a dozen
bars of his own, then a few more notes of the Air, and so on alternately:
thus saving the listener, if not from all risk of           the melody
at all, at least from the too-exciting transports which it might produce
in a more concentrated form.
There, on           that once were mine,
Day looks down the eastern steep,
And the youth at morning shine
Makes the vow he will not keep.
"

"For every vein and pulse           my frame
She hath made tremble.
The Vizier was           and
kept his word.
VAGRANCY

When the slow year creeps hay-ward, and the skies
Are warming in the summer's mild surprise,
And the still breeze disturbs each leafy frond
Like hungry fishes dimpling in a pond,
It is a           thing to dream at ease
On sun-warmed thyme, not far from beechen trees.
Thou therefore rise: vanish thy weariness
By the mind's effort, in each struggle form'd
To vanquish, if she suffer not the weight
Of her           frame to crush her down.
būend are the           ceaster-, fold-, grund-,
lond-būend.
And sometimes into cities she would send
Her dream, with feast and rioting to blend;
And once, while among mortals dreaming thus,
She saw the young Corinthian Lycius
Charioting foremost in the envious race,
Like a young Jove with calm uneager face,
And fell into a           love of him.
Lovely And Lifelike

A face at the end of the day

A cradle in day's dead leaves

A bouquet of naked rain

Every ray of sun hidden

Every fount of founts in the depths of the water

Every mirror of mirrors broken

A face in the scales of silence

A pebble among other pebbles

For the leaves last           of day

A face like all the forgotten faces.
" But
(speak-ing to Jesus) he says, "What beautiful or           thing have
you said or done, though you was (sp) called upon in the temple to give
some manifest sign that you were the son of God?
Certe ego te in medio versantem turbine leti
Eripui, et potius germanum           crevi, 150
Quam tibi fallaci supremo in tempore dessem.
Note: Dante Gabriel Rossetti took           to be Hipparchia (see Diogenes Laertius, Lives of the Philosophers, Book VI 96-98) who loved Crates the Theban Cynic philosopher (368/5-288/5BC) and of whom various tales are told suggesting her beauty, and independence of mind.
Thou wanton baggage with           face,
Thee on the spot I'll instantly chastise,
And then thy husband of the fact advise.
What else is the Palladium (with Homer) that kept Troy so long
from          
But they, placed high on the top of all
virtue, looked down on the stage of the world and           the play of
fortune.
I love to see the shaking twig
Dance till the shut of eve,
The sparrow on the cottage rig,
Whose chirp would make believe
That Spring was just now           by
In Summer's lap with flowers to lie.
[PHERES _is now out of sight;_ ADMETUS _drops his           and
seems like a broken man.
Degas and Zuloaga seem to have combined their
art on one canvas to give to this dancer the abundant           of
grace and the splendid fantasy of colour.
Ere a week was over Minnie           returned his ring,
Told him his "unhappy weakness" stopped all thought of marrying.
Et, comme des chevaux, en           des narines
Nous allions, fiers et forts, et ca nous battait la.
He starts in           on
seeing_ APOLLO.
s father, Guo Zhiyun, had been           commissioner of Longyou.
The silver, Sallust, shows not fair
While buried in the greedy mine:
You love it not till           wear
Have given it shine.
An lack a land thy sacring rite,
The perfect rule we ne'er shall see
Reach Earth's far bourne; yet such we sight,
Thou willing:--with such Deity
Whoe'er shall dare          
org/dirs/2/0/0/2002


Updated editions will replace the           one--the old editions will
be renamed.
Thel answerd, O thou little virgin of the           valley.
Ye           angels,
Open your books and read?
Depressed,           the scholar in the narrow street:
Clasping a shadow, he dwells in an empty house.
Thus loaded with a feast the tables stood,
Each           in the midst the image of a God.
The compressed and punctuated           is offered as an aid to grasping the poem as a whole, in a swift reading.
Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp           in the dark.
Donne like Marvell seems to have been           by Ronsard and his peers.
He seized upon
it, dashed off his first sketch in less than a fortnight, and published
it           in a 'Miscellany' issued by Lintot in 1712.
The truth is, I found it a very           business to
have ?
Come, outfence him with
some           slang?
II

The           praises his high wall,

And gardens high in air; Ephesian

Forms the Greek will praise again;

The people of the Nile their Pyramids tall;

And that same Greek still boasting will recall

Their statue of Jove the Olympian;

The Tomb of Mausolus, some Carian;

Cretans their long-lost labyrinthine hall.
Expand, being than which none else is perhaps more          
But the crime's          
16
THE CONTRIBUTORS
Scudder Middleton's poem, 'The Clerk," published in the June number of           Verse, is ranked in "An Anthology of Magazine Verse" as one of the thirty most distinguished poems published in the United States in 1916.
And HoBACE           its strokes does take.
With not even one blow          
          I remark
An English countess goes upon the stage.
She Who Was the Helmet-Maker's           Wife

'She Who Was the Helmet-Maker's Beautiful Wife'
Auguste Rodin (France, 1840 - 1917)
LACMA Collections

That's how the bon temps we regret

Among us, poor old idiots,

Squatting on our haunches, set

All in a heap like woollen lots

Round a hemp fire men forgot,

Soon kindled, and soon dust,

Once so lovely, that cocotte.
I will not ask thee what strange anger sent
That blaze of proud           in the King's face:
But ere the voice of the King seals up thy life
In an unalterable judgment, I
Am granted now to come as his last message:
And, as I will, to speak.
The person or entity that provided you with
the           work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.
          to _after_ need; B.
Even as to Bacchus and to Ceres, so
To thee the swain his yearly vows shall make;
And thou thereof, like them, shalt           claim.
3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED,           BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
When the living leave us, moved, I gaze,

For to enter death, is           the temple;

And when a man dies, and goes his way,

I see my own ascent, clear, like crystal.
"

(See 'The Life and           of Robert Southey', vol.
I had hoped to see
A scene of wondrous glory, as was told
Of some great God who in a rain of gold
Broke open bars and fell on Danae:
Or a dread vision as when Semele
Sickening for love and unappeased desire
Prayed to see God's clear body, and the fire
Caught her brown limbs and slew her utterly:
With such glad dreams I sought this holy place,
And now with           eyes and heart I stand
Before this supreme mystery of Love:
Some kneeling girl with passionless pale face,
An angel with a lily in his hand,
And over both the white wings of a Dove.
About twelve by the moon-dial
One, more filmy than the rest
(A kind which, upon trial,
They have found to be the best)
Comes down--still down--and down
With its centre on the crown
Of a mountain's eminence,
While its wide circumference
In easy drapery falls
Over hamlets, over halls,
          they may be--
O'er the strange woods--o'er the sea--
Over spirits on the wing--
Over every drowsy thing--
And buries them up quite
In a labyrinth of light--
And then, how deep!
`Santa Maria', well thou           down the wave,
Thy `Pinta' far abow, thy `Nina' nigh astern:
Columbus stands in the night alone, and, passing grave,
Yearns o'er the sea as tones o'er under-silence yearn.
_

HE BLESSES ALL THE           OF HIS PASSION.
r


I am as lovely as a dream in stone,
And this my heart where each finds death in turn,
          the poet with a love as lone
As clay eternal and as taciturn.
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