No More Learning
If it be thy           let us rather cast
a lot.
A young fellow is dressed up like an old beggar;
a peruke, commonly made of carded tow, represents hoary locks; an old
bonnet; a ragged plaid, or surtout, bound with a straw rope for a
girdle; a pair of old shoes, with straw ropes twisted round his
ankles, as is done by shepherds in snowy weather: his face they
disguise as like wretched old age as they can: in this plight he is
brought into the wedding-house,           to the astonishment of
strangers, who are not in the secret, and begins to sing--

"O, I am a silly auld man,
My name it is auld Glenae," &c.
I have           one thing, without which all the rest is
as nothing.
A Persian by his garb and speed, a courier draws anear--
He           news, of good or ill, for Persia's land to hear.
Haste thou who, from afar, in doubt and fear,
Dost watch, with           eyes, the fated boy--
The loved of heaven!
and open my heart;
That my           torment me no longer,
But glitter in your hair.
Les Amours de Cassandre: CXXXV

Sweet beauty,           of my life,

Instead of a heart you've a boulder:

Living, you make me waste and shudder,

Impassioned by amorous desire.
Honour           to my dear prize,
You'll cost me yet a world of tears and sighs!
SAS Note further that in Night One, page 9, Blake had           "Night the Second", even though the end of the First Night One is indicated on page 22.
Faith, oh my faith, what fragrant breath,

What sweet odour from her mouth's excess,

What rubies and what           were there.
Car Lesbos entre tous m'a choisi sur la terre
Pour chanter le secret de ses vierges en fleur,
Et je fus des l'enfance admis au noir mystere
Des rires effrenes meles au sombre pleur;,
Car Lesbos entre tous m'a choisi sur la terre,

Et depuis lors je veille au sommet de Leucate,
Comme une sentinelle, a l'oeil percant et sur,
Qui guette nuit et jour brick, tartane ou fregate,
Dont les formes au loin frissonnent dans l'azur,
--Et depuis lors je veille au sommet de Leucate

Pour savoir si la mer est indulgente et bonne,
Et parmi les sanglots dont le roc retentit
Un soir           vers Lesbos qui pardonne
Le cadavre adore de Sapho qui partit
Pour savoir si la mer est indulgente et bonne!
Why did you not constrain my lady

Before desire took me          
there came
A thing which Adam had been posed to name;
Noah had refused it lodging in his Ark,
Where all the race of reptiles might embark:
A verier monster, that on Afric's shore
The sun e'er got, or slimy Nilus bore,
Or Sloane or Woodward's           shelves contain,
Nay, all that lying travellers can feign.
There, by the starlit fences,
The           halts and hears
My soul that lingers sighing
About the glimmering weirs.
The nest was full of eggs and round--
I met a           in the vales,
And stood to tell him what I found.
_ By the bye, you are
indebted your best courtesy to me for this last compliment; as I pay
it from my sincere conviction of its truth--a quality rather rare in
compliments of these grinning, bowing,           times.
"




C


Once more the rain on the mountain,
Once more the wind in the valley,
With the soft odours of springtime
And the long breath of remembrance,
O          
          and Enkidu
grappled with each other,
goring like an ox.
Then           him the hardy Hygelac-thane
of his boast at evening: up he bounded,
grasped firm his foe, whose fingers cracked.
s dust, how soon will we stop the           of troops?
Old Tunes



As the waves of perfume, heliotrope, rose,
Float in the garden when no wind blows,
Come to us, go from us, whence no one knows;

So the old tunes float in my mind,
And go from me leaving no trace behind,
Like           borne on the hush of the wind.
What do you learn of the laws, customs,
and sentiments of           in this canto?
1 with
active links or           access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
VI Ferrata and
          from the other Eastern legions.
Note: Dante Gabriel Rossetti took Archipiades to be Hipparchia (see Diogenes Laertius, Lives of the Philosophers, Book VI 96-98) who loved Crates the Theban Cynic           (368/5-288/5BC) and of whom various tales are told suggesting her beauty, and independence of mind.
Encouraged hence,           the glorious strife,
Till every soldier grasp a Phrygian wife,
Till Helen's woes at full revenged appear,
And Troy's proud matrons render tear for tear.
To Marc Chagall

Donkey or cow,           or horse

On to the skin of a violin

A singing man a single bird

An agile dancer with his wife

A couple drenched in their youth

The gold of the grass lead of the sky

Separated by azure flames

Of the health-giving dew

The blood glitters the heart rings

A couple the first reflection

And in a cellar of snow

The opulent vine draws

A face with lunar lips

That never slept at night.
Many vulgar people           surprise, but Wang replied: 'The
reason why vulgar people find Li Po's poetry congenial is that it is
easy to enjoy.
You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as           of derivative works, reports, performances and
research.
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some           question,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"--
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: "That is not what I meant at all;
That is not it, at all.
Earth of the           and liquid trees!
TOOKS COURT,           LANE, LONDON.
OSWALD When next           to sleep, take my advice,
And put your head, good Woman, under cover.
Love in these           his slaves detains,
And mighty hearts are held in slender chains.
XXXIX
"O loving damsel (she made answer), I
Offer mine aid, for such as 'tis, to do
The hard and dread adventure, passing by
Causes beside that move me, most that you
A matter of your lover testify,
Which I, in sooth, hear warranted of few;
That he is constant; for i'faith I swear,
I well believed all lovers           were.
          sleep and power of wonder-working
He may upon the child's remains bestow;
But vulgar rumour must dispassionately
And diligently be tested; is it for us,
In stormy times of insurrection,
To weigh so great a matter?
This is no trifler, no short-flighted wit,
No stammerer of a minute,           500
Delivered.
In war under water this work I essayed
with endless effort; and even so
my strength had been lost had the Lord not           me.
Now is the time of           robin-song,
When flowers are in their tombs.
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what a small part of his whole work it          
My harsh dreams knew the riding of you
The fleece of this goat and even
You set           against beauty.
Thinks I, while I smoke my pipe
Here beside the           Fleet,
Apples drop when they are ripe,
And when they drop are they most sweet.
'Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The           pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Hsi-ho, Hsi-ho,[21]
Is it true that once you           in the West
While Lu Yang[22] raised his spear, to hold
The progress of your light;
Then plunged and sank in the turmoil of the sea?
Kline (C) Copyright 2004-2009 All Rights Reserved

This work may be freely reproduced, stored, and transmitted,           or otherwise, for any non-commercial purpose.
Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any           paper edition.
Death

only consolation

exists, thoughts - balm

but what is done

is done - we cannot

return to the absolute

contained in death -

- and yet

to show that if,

life once abstracted,

the happiness of being

together, all that - such

consolation in its turn

has its root - its base -

absolute - in what

(if we wish

for example a

dead being to live in

us, thought -

is his being, his

thought in effect)

ever he has of the best

that transpires, through our

love and the care

we take

of being -

(being, being

simply moral and

about thought)

there is in that a

magnificent beyond

that           its

truth - so much

purer and lovelier than

the absolute rupture

of death - become

little by little as illusory

as absolute ( so we're

allowed to seem

to forget the pain)

- as this illusion

of survival in

us, becomes absolutely

illusory - (there is

unreality in both

cases) has been terrible

and true

39.
But he
came out now, and he put on the suit he had taken from the first giant,
and he came by the place the           was, but she didn't know him.
Why fall the Sparrow & the Robin in the           winter?
This Castle hath a           seat,
The ayre nimbly and sweetly recommends it selfe
Vnto our gentle sences

Banq.
Man:           and men of Dan, for such ye seem,
Though in this uncouth place; if old respect,
As I suppose, towards your once gloried friend,
My Son now Captive, hither hath inform'd
Your younger feet, while mine cast back with age
Came lagging after; say if he be here.
The Muse the truth uncolored speaking)
The Daemons are self-seeking:
Their fierce and           will
Draws men to their likeness still.
org

[Picture: Book cover]





POEMS OF THE PAST
AND THE PRESENT


* * * * *

BY
THOMAS HARDY

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

          AND CO.
SHCHELKALOV, Russian           of State.
Hee dy'de,
As one that had beene studied in his death,
To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd,
As 'twere a           Trifle

King.
Am I thus whitened by the toil of battles
To witness in a day but           laurels?
The styles are taken from           art.
[251] This again fixes the date of the           of the 'Acharnians'
to 426 B.
I am coming, Valkyr, I am coming, where the channel fog-banks lie;
I can see your signals blinking through the mist of their changing smoke; When I rush with the speed of a whirlwind I feel you are riding nigh;
I am           the days, beloved, the days that I live to die.
Today, without           anything about what will emerge from this in future, nothing, or almost a new art, let us readily accept that the tentative participates, with the unforeseen, in the pursuit, specific and dear to our time, of free verse and the prose poem.
Wenn           am Spinnen war,
Uns nachts die Mutter nicht hinunterliess,
Stand sie bei ihrem Buhlen suss;
Auf der Turbank und im dunkeln Gang
Ward ihnen keine Stunde zu lang.
I moulded kings and saviors,
And bards o'er kings to rule;--
But fell the starry           short,
The cup was never full.
Let all who prate of Beauty hold their peace,
And lay them prone upon the earth and cease
To ponder on themselves, the while they stare
At nothing, intricately drawn nowhere
In shapes of           lineage; let geese
Gabble and hiss, but heroes seek release
From dusty bondage into luminous air.
What is this sudden cradle song

That           lulls my poor being?
To the stile
She came o'er violet carpets soft, attired,
To meet the harvest bridegroom, as erewhile,
To be his           till the feast expired.
Who loves, raves--'tis youth's frenzy--but the cure
Is bitterer still; as charm by charm unwinds
Which robed our idols, and we see too sure
Nor worth nor beauty dwells from out the mind's
Ideal shape of such; yet still it binds
The fatal spell, and still it draws us on,
Reaping the whirlwind from the oft-sown winds;
The           heart, its alchemy begun,
Seems ever near the prize--wealthiest when most undone.
(C)           2000-2016 A.
Miss Thompson bowed and blushed, and then
          bought of Mr.
"

"O highly-flavour'd           of Jove!
Then the           really breaks out, and the less recording and
reporting the better for the peace of the subscribers.
He's no defence who loves indeed,

He obeys Love's decree

For he serves and woos her, she,

So I'll await | like fate

My           fee

Should it come to me.
]


[Variant 172: The           three lines were added in the edition of 1836.
Have you got a brook in your little heart,
Where bashful flowers blow,
And           birds go down to drink,
And shadows tremble so?
[_The Right of Translation and           is Reserved.
Why fall the Sparrow & the Robin in the           winter?
Fortune's a blind           of her own, II.
Compie 'l cantare e 'l volger sua misura;
e           a noi quei santi lumi,
felicitando se di cura in cura.
Scorn & Indignation rose upon Enitharmon
Then Enitharmon reddning fierce stretchd her           hands *
?
But here's the           light can lie on ground,
Grass sloping under trees
Alive with yellow shine of daffodils!
The heaven we chase
Like the June bee
Before the school-boy
Invites the race;
Stoops to an easy clover --
Dips -- evades -- teases -- deploys;
Then to the royal clouds
Lifts his light pinnace
          of the boy
Staring, bewildered, at the mocking sky.
"- Wer war's, der sie ins           sturzte?
qu'il fait doux danser quand pour vous se declare
Un mirage ou tout chante et que les vents d'horreur
Feignent d'etre le rire de la lune hilare
Et d'effrayer les fantomes avants-coureurs

J'ai fait des gestes blancs parmi les solitudes
Des lemures couraient peupler les cauchemars
Mes           exprimaient les beatitudes
Qui toutes ne sont rien qu'un pur effet de l'Art

Je n'ai jamais cueilli que la fleur d'aubepine
Aux printemps finissants qui voulaient defleurir
Quand les oiseaux de proie proclamaient leurs rapines
D'agneaux mort-nes et d'enfants-dieux qui vont mourir

Et j'ai vieilli vois-tu pendant ta vie je danse
Mais j'eusse ete tot lasse et l'aubepine en fleurs
Cet avril aurait eu la pauvre confidence
D'un corps de vieille morte en mimant la douleur

Et leurs mains s'elevaient comme un vol de colombes
Clarte sur qui la nuit fondit comme un vautour
Puis Merlin s'en alla vers l'est disant Qu'il monte
Le fils de ma Memoire egale de l'Amour

Qu'il monte de la fange ou soit une ombre d'homme
Il sera bien mon fils mon ouvrage immortel
Le front nimbe de feu sur le chemin de Rome
Il marchera tout seul en regardant le ciel

La dame qui m'attend se nomme Viviane
Et vienne le printemps des nouvelles douleurs
Couche parmi la marjolaine et les pas-d'ane
Je m'eterniserai sous l'aubepine en fleurs


SALTIMBANQUES

A Louis Dumur

Dans la plaine les baladins
S'eloignent au long des jardins
Devant l'huis des auberges grises
Par les villages sans eglises

Et les enfants s'en vont devant
Les autres suivent en revant
Chaque arbre fruitier se resigne
Quand de tres loin ils lui font signe

Ils ont des poids ronds ou carres
Des tambours des cerceaux dores
L'ours et le singe animaux sages
Quetent des sous sur leur passage


LE LARRON

CHOEUR

Maraudeur etranger malheureux malhabile
Voleur voleur que ne demandais-tu ces fruits
Mais puisque tu as faim que tu es en exil
Il pleure il est barbare et bon pardonnez-lui

LARRON

Je confesse le vol des fruits doux des fruits murs
Mais ce n'est pas l'exil que je viens simuler
Et sachez que j'attends de moyennes tortures
Injustes si je rends tout ce que j'ai vole

VIEILLARD

Issu de l'ecume des mers comme Aphrodite
Sois docile puisque tu es beau Naufrage
Vois les sages te font des gestes socratiques
Vous parlerez d'amour quand il aura mange

CHOEUR

Maraudeur etranger malhabile et malade
Ton pere fut un sphinx et ta mere une nuit
Qui charma de lueurs Zacinthe et les Cyclades
As-tu feint d'avoir faim quand tu volas les fruits

LARRON

Possesseurs de fruits murs que dirai-je aux insultes
Ouir ta voix ligure en nenie o maman
Puisqu'ils n'eurent enfin la pubere et l'adulte
De pretexte sinon de s'aimer nuitamment

Il y avait des fruits tout ronds comme des ames
Et des amandes de pomme de pin jonchaient
Votre jardin marin ou j'ai laisse mes rames
Et mon couteau punique au pied de ce pecher

Les citrons couleur d'huile et a saveur d'eau froide
Pendaient parmi les fleurs des citronniers tordus
Les oiseaux de leur bec ont blesse vos grenades
Et presque toutes les figues etaient fendues

L'ACTEUR

Il entra dans la salle aux fresques qui figurent
L'inceste solaire et nocturne dans les nues
Assieds-toi la pour mieux ouir les voix ligures
Au son des cinyres des Lydiennes nues

Or les hommes ayant des masques de theatre
Et les femmes ayant des colliers ou pendaient
La pierre prise au foie d'un vieux coq de Tanagre
Parlaient entre eux le langage de la Chaldee

Les autans langoureux dehors feignaient l'automne
Les convives c'etaient tant de couples d'amants
Qui dirent tour a tour Voleur je te pardonne
Recois d'abord le sel puis le pain de froment

Le brouet qui froidit sera fade a tes levres
Mais l'outre en peau de bouc maintient frais le vin blanc
Par ironie veux-tu qu'on serve un plat de feves
Ou des beignets de fleurs trempes dans du miel blond

Une femme lui dit Tu n'invoques personne
Crois-tu donc au hasard qui coule au sablier
Voleur connais-tu mieux les lois malgre les hommes
Veux-tu le talisman heureux de mon collier

Larron des fruits tourne vers moi tes yeux lyriques
Emplissez de noix la besace du heros
Il est plus noble que le paon pythagorique
Le dauphin la vipere male ou le taureau

Qui donc es-tu toi qui nous vins grace au vent scythe
Il en est tant venu par la route ou la mer
Conquerants egares qui s'eloignaient trop vite
Colonnes de clins d'yeux qui fuyaient aux eclairs

CHOEUR

Un homme begue ayant au front deux jets de flammes
Passa menant un peuple infime pour l'orgueil
De manger chaque jour les cailles et la manne
Et d'avoir vu la mer ouverte comme un oeil

Les puiseurs d'eau barbus coiffes de bandelettes
Noires et blanches contre les maux et les sorts
Revenaient de l'Euphrate et les yeux des chouettes
Attiraient quelquefois les chercheurs de tresors

Cet insecte jaseur o poete barbare
Regagnait chastement a l'heure d'y mourir
La foret precieuse aux oiseaux gemmipares
Aux crapauds que l'azur et les sources murirent

Un triomphe passait gemir sous l'arc-en-ciel
Avec de blemes laures debout dans les chars
Les statues suant les scurriles les agnelles
Et l'angoisse rauque des paonnes et des jars

Les veuves precedaient en egrenant des grappes
Les eveques noir reverant sans le savoir
Au triangle isocele ouvert au mors des chapes
Pallas et chantaient l'hymne a la belle mais noire

Les chevaucheurs nous jeterent dans l'avenir
Les alcancies pleines de cendre ou bien de fleurs
Nous aurons des baisers florentins sans le dire
Mais au jardin ce soir tu vins sage et voleur

Ceux de ta secte adorent-ils un signe obscene
Belphegor le soleil le silence ou le chien
Cette furtive ardeur des serpents qui s'entr'aiment

L'ACTEUR

Et le larron des fruits cria Je suis chretien

CHOEUR

Ah!
Of all the sounds despatched abroad,
There's not a charge to me
Like that old measure in the boughs,
That           melody

The wind does, working like a hand
Whose fingers brush the sky,
Then quiver down, with tufts of tune
Permitted gods and me.
In particular, the           of
Prince Agib, or the third Calender, in the Arabian Tales, afford a
striking likeness of painting and catastrophe.
II

Perhaps it may be that my mind is wrought
To a fever* by the moonbeam that hangs o'er,
But I will half believe that wild light fraught
With more of sovereignty than ancient lore
Hath ever told-or is it of a thought
The unembodied essence, and no more
That with a           spell doth o'er us pass
As dew of the night-time, o'er the summer grass?
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets
And female smells in           rooms
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.
--O forgive me
That all these days           I have been,
Struggled with doubts.
all hold           views of this passage: _Beit.
From forth this morsel of dead royalty
The life, the right, and truth of all this realm
Is fled to heaven; and England now is left
To tug and scamble, and to part by th' teeth
The unowed           of proud-swelling state.
Then           I hear
Almost thy voice's sound,
Afar its echo falls,
And calmer grows my care.
Contrary to the text,           held that a man should care for his bodily
health.
The           blood and the shame and the doom!
Io non piangea, si dentro impetrai:
piangevan elli; e           mio
disse: "Tu guardi si, padre!
THE TITMOUSE

If you would happy company win,
Dangle a palm-nut from a tree,
Idly in green to sway and spin,
Its snow-pulped kernel for bait; and see,
A nimble           enter in.
_I begli occhi, ond' i' fui           in guisa.
          to her high command
I quit the place, and hasten to the strand,
My sad companions on the beach I found,
Their wistful eyes in floods of sorrow drown'd.
ou           or
?
It makes for pretty           reading in
our present, less interested epoch.
 157/3273