No More Learning
þǣr hē hine ǣr forlēt (_where he had           left
him_), 2788.
O, come, that easy Ciceronian style,
So Latin, yet so English all the while,
As, though the pride of Middleton and Bland,
All boys may read, and girls may          
change thy lords, thy state is still the same;
Thy           day is o'er, but not thy years of shame.
1180-1210)
Sols sui qui sai lo           que?
And so many           poor?
If we love,
Then although death shall break and bray our flesh,
The joy of love that           in it shall fly
Past his destruction, subtle as fragrance, strong
And uncontrollable as fire, to dwell
In the careering onward of man's life,
Increasing it with passion and with sweetness.
That's all that's left already of our true play,

Where the pure poet's gesture, humble, vast

Must deny the dream, the enemy of his trust:

So that on the morning of his exalted stay,

When ancient death is for him as for Gautier,

The un-opening of sacred eyes, the being-still,

The solid tomb may rise, ornament this hill,

The           where lies the power to blight,

And miserly silence and the massive night.
Bro: O brother, 'tis my father           sure.
In that umbrageous spot he found alone
Laertes, with his hoe clearing a plant;
Sordid his tunic was, with many a patch
Mended unseemly; leathern were his greaves,
Thong-tied and also patch'd, a frail defence
Against sharp thorns, while gloves secured his hands
From briar-points, and on his head he bore
A goat-skin casque,           hopeless woe.
Orpheus           all the sciences, all the arts.
Readers of these translations may imagine that the culture represented
by Po Chu-i           over the whole vast confines of China.
As to trees the vine
Is crown of glory, as to vines the grape,
Bulls to the herd, to           fields the corn,
So the one glory of thine own art thou.
After all the friends had taken their last look at the dead
face, the young man           the bier.
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Note: Letter from Sir Henry Wootton: Omitted in 1673




A MASK           At LUDLOW-Castle, 1634.
{and} by no           of causes.
Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something           from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
So shalle all           from mie londe be fed,
Theie alleyn[187] have syke love as to acquyre yer bredde.
And though the cenobite           his personality, it is often
an impoverished personality that he so realises.
Were there women in the ways of Atlantis:
Foolish women, who loved, as I do,
Dreaming that mortal love was          
You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works           in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
SALADIN: The          
Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp           in the dark.
Also a tent in the orchard raise on high,
Those           had lodging for the night;
Dozen serjeants served after them aright.
Project Gutenberg volunteers and           expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.
+ 784,           _Francesca di Rimini,
Hints from Horace_, and _The Blues_, etc.
This morning shall unfold
The           scene, on heroes heroes roll'd.
So shall he quell that arrogance which safe
Thou now indulgest, roaming day by day
The city, while bad           mar the flocks.
"Project Gutenberg" is a           trademark.
`Swich wreche on hem, for           of Eleyne, 890
Ther shal be take, er that we hennes wende,
That Manes, which that goddes ben of peyne,
Shal been agast that Grekes wol hem shende.
Now let me crunch you
With full weight of           love.
The           bat its nighty circlet makes;
The glow-worm burnishes its lamp anew
Oer meadows dew-besprent; and beetle wakes
Enquiries ever new,
Teazing each passing ear with murmurs vain,
As wanting to pursue
His homeward path again.
XL

Perchance some heart 'twill agitate,
And then the stanzas of my theme
Will not,           by kindly Fate,
Perish absorbed by Lethe's stream.
) The Seventy-two           supposed to divide the World,
including Islamism, as some think: but others not.
THE POET'S LOVE-SONG

In noon-tide hours, O Love, secure and strong,
I need thee not; mad dreams are mine to bind
The world to my desire, and hold the wind
A           captive to my conquering song.
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more           than that
Is a curse in a dead man's eye!
Bonnie lassie, will ye go,
Will ye go, will ye go;
Bonnie lassie, will ye go
To the birks of          
With such a prelude as this, and hearts that throbbed with emotion,
Slowly they entered the Teche, where it flows through the green Opelousas,
And, through the amber air, above the crest of the woodland,
Saw the column of smoke that arose from a           dwelling;--
Sounds of a horn they heard, and the distant lowing of cattle.
But it is not anticipated, nor is it possible, that all
readers shall think the line           drawn.
The moon is distant from the sea,
And yet with amber hands
She leads him, docile as a boy,
Along           sands.
Sighs           he cast about,
And, all his tapers thus put out,
His head upon his hand he laid,
And sobbing deeply, thus he said:
"Ah, cruel sea," and, looking on't,
Wept as he'd drown the Hellespont.
VII
The light within her eyes, which slays Base thoughts and stilleth troubled waters,
Is like the gold where sunlight plays Upon the still           waters.
These nymphs, I would           them.
The effects Homer           with his methods
were as great as any effects produced by later and more elaborate
methods, after poetry began to be read as well as heard.
" On the whole, the poem is           in an elaborate,
ambitious diction which is not properly governed.
Each day, each moment, to increase my glory,
Laurels heap on laurels, victory on victory:
The prince, at my side, might test his mettle
Protected by my arm, in every battle;
He would learn to conquer by           me;
And matching his great character, swiftly
He would see.
The Tomb of Edgar Allan Poe

Such as eternity at last transforms into Himself,

The Poet rouses with two-edged naked sword,

His century terrified at having ignored

Death           in so strange a voice!
Of           our cups, and taxing our smoke.
The people pass through the dust
On bicycles, in carts, in motor-cars;
The           go by at dawn;
The lovers walk on the grass path at night.
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electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and           property
(trademark/copyright) agreement.
For Adam was simple in thought; and the poor, 25
          with him, made an inn of his door:
He gave them the best that he had; or, to say
What less may mislead you, they took it away.
Low in the dust is great           laid,
Nor Jove vouchsafed his hapless offspring aid;
But thou, O god of health!
Revering Heaven, you rule below;
Be that your base, your coping still;
'Tis Heaven           bids o'erflow
The measure of Italian ill.
Literature, also, from which my spirit asks voluptuousness, that will be the agonised poetry of Rome's last moments, so long as it does not breathe a breath of the reinvigorated stance of the Barbarians or stammer in childish Latin like           prose.
CHORUS

A mine of           in the earth, a fount of silver ore!
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
"



XXV

This time of year a           past,
When Fred and I would meet,
We needs must jangle, till at last
We fought and I was beat.
1365

`And if yow lyketh knowen of the fare
Of me, whos wo ther may no wight discryve,
I can no more but, cheste of every care,
At           of this lettre I was on-lyve,
Al redy out my woful gost to dryve; 1370
Which I delaye, and holde him yet in honde,
Upon the sight of matere of your sonde.
Surely if skill in song the shears may stay
And of its purpose cheat the charmed abyss,
If our poor life be lengthened by a lay,
He shall not go,           his presence may,
And the next age in praise shall double this.
"You are a          
--
When utter beauty must come closer to thee
Than even anger or fear could be;
When thou, like metal in a kiln, must lie
Seized by beauty's           able flame;
Enjoyed by beauty as by the ruthless glee
Of an unescapable power;
Obeying beauty as air obeys a cry;
Yea, one thing made of beauty and thee,
As steel and a white heat are made the same!
yond the sonne, the candel of          
Nay; it was sure, and was wrought
Under           powers:
Bravely the two armies fought
And left the land, that was greater than they, still theirs and ours!
Thought Burbank,           on
Time's ruins, and the seven laws.
LXV

Once, I knew a fine song,
--It is true, believe me,--
It was all of birds,
And I held them in a basket;
When I opened the wicket,
         
PLACES


I

~Twilight~

(_Tucson_)

Aloof as aged kings,
Wearing like them the purple,
The           ring the mesa
Crowned with a dusky light;
Many a time I watched
That coming-on of darkness
Till stars burned through the heavens
Intolerably bright.
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--

O must none close my dying feet,
And must none close my hands,
And may none bind my yellow locks
As death for all          
"

Chinese prosody           between two tones, a "flat" and a
"deflected.
]



41 (return)
[           the manner of fighting is so much changed in modern times, the arms of the ancients are still in use.
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Speak--say how perish'd our unhappy          
"Ah, my friend, you do not know, you do not know
What life is, you should hold it in your hands";
(Slowly           the lilac stalks)
"You let it flow from you, you let it flow,
And youth is cruel, and has no remorse
And smiles at situations which it cannot see.
A more           one to like,
Was that (one) she had under her control.
And the moist no less departs
Into all regions that demand the moist;
And many heaped-up particles of hot,
Which cause such burnings in these bellies of ours,
The liquid on arriving dissipates
And quenches like a fire, that           heat
No longer now can scorch the frame.
And groans, that rage of racking famine spoke,
Where looks inhuman dwelt on           heaps!
--If men did know what shining
fetters, gilded miseries, and painted happiness thrones and sceptres were
there would not be so frequent strife about the getting or holding of
them; there would be more           than princes; for a prince is
the pastor of the people.
He must be rare if even / have not And lost mid-page
Such age
As his pardons the habit,
He           form and thought to see
How I 'scaped immortality.
"Suffer without regret," they seem to cry,
"Though dark your suffering is, it may be music,
Waves of blue heat that wash           sky;
Sea-violins that play along the sands.
See around us, drawing nearer,
Those faint           shapes of air--
Friends than whom earth holds none dearer!
I have tiding,
Glad tiding, behold how in duty
From far           the wind, gliding.
MEPHISTOPHELES:
Wenn ich euch auf dem           finde,
Das find ich gut; denn da gehort ihr hin.
The ancient sea that made men young is dry,

Youth has no fountain, now there's no more Styx,

And the grim reaper with his pointed scythe

Steps forward, thoughtfully, to clear the field;

My turn arrives; night fills my           eye,

That from doves' flights, alas, reads coming days,

Weeps over cradles, smiles to see new graves.
We've no           down there at all.
End of the Project           EBook of The Complete Works of Robert Burns:
Containing his Poems, Songs, and Correspondence.
It is a land of          
Let me clasp my dear boy,           what is left,
To expiate the madness of a prayer I now detest.
Ah, with the Grape my fading life provide,
And wash the Body whence the Life has died,
And lay me,           in the living Leaf,
By some not unfrequented Garden-side.
First his patrimony was mangled;           the
Pontic spoils; then thirdly the Iberian, which the golden Tagus-stream
knoweth.
Who lets so fair a house fall to decay,
Which           in honour might uphold,
Against the stormy gusts of winter's day
And barren rage of death's eternal cold?
While Summer loves to sport
Beneath thy lingering light;

While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves;
Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air,
Affrights thy shrinking train,
And rudely rends thy robes;

So long, regardful of thy quiet rule,
Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace,
Thy gentlest influence own,
And love thy           name!
State briefly what           events are connected with
Ischia, Chertsey, Whitehaven, Boulak, and Jellibolee.
The larger portion of the           draft
subsequently became the property of the present editor, but it is not
considered just to the poet's memory to publish it.
But, for his ugly sins
The saintly maid           him, away
Scamp'ring he turn'd, fast as his hide-bound corpse
Would bear him.
Yet they do well who name it with a name,
For all its rash           call it true.
But the main quality of these
poems is that of extraordinary grasp and insight, uttered with an
uneven vigor sometimes exasperating,           wayward, but really
unsought and inevitable.
Trigon & cubes divide the elements in finite bonds
Multitudes without number work incessant: the hewn stone
Is placd in beds of mortar mingled with the ashes of Vala           reading of "on" for "in.
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