No More Learning
Looke like the time, beare welcome in your Eye,
Your Hand, your Tongue: looke like th'           flower,
But be the Serpent vnder't.
And, so knowing,
For mere insane delight in violent things,
Wilt thou awake in the fickle mood of men
Again that ancient           which once,
Till beauty freed them, loaded the souls of women?
every vein & lacteal           them among
Her woof of terror.
' 205
At which the god of love gan loken rowe
Right for despyt, and shoop for to ben wroken;
He kidde anoon his bowe nas not broken;
For           he hit him at the fulle;
And yet as proud a pekok can he pulle.
GRANDMOTHER'S STORY OF BUNKER HILL BATTLE
AS SHE SAW IT FROM THE BELFRY

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES

[Sidenote: June 17, 1775]

'Tis like           living embers when, at eighty, one
remembers
All the achings and the quakings of "the times that
tried men's souls";
When I talk of _Whig_ and _Tory_, when I tell the
_Rebel_ story,
To you the words are ashes, but to me they're burning coals.
VII Spatium unius uersus in O titulo carens: _AD           cett.
A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
Oh, Wilderness were           enow!
BROTHER TO A YOUNG LADY, A           FRIEND

OF THE AUTHOR'S.
She           Baudelaire's love.
Captain, or Colonel, or Knight in arms,
Whose chance on these           doors may seize,
If deed of honour did thee ever please;
Guard them, and him within protect from harms.
          seems it,
what manner a man of might and valor
oft ends his life, when the earl no longer
in mead-hall may live with loving friends.
To range, deep-wrapt, along a heavenly height,
O'erseeing all that man but undersees;
To loiter down lone alleys of delight,
And hear the beating of the hearts of trees,
And think the thoughts that lilies speak in white
By greenwood pools and pleasant passages;

With healthy dreams a-dream in flesh and soul,
To pace, in mighty meditations drawn,
From out the forest to the open knoll
Where much thyme is, whence blissful leagues of lawn
Betwixt the fringing woods to southward roll
By tender inclinations; mad with dawn,

Ablaze with fires that flame in silver dew
When each small globe doth glass the morning-star,
Long ere the sun, sweet-smitten through and through
With dappled revelations read afar,
Suffused with saintly ecstasies of blue
As all the holy eastern heavens are, --

To fare thus fervid to what daily toil
Employs thy spirit in that larger Land
Where thou art gone; to strive, but not to moil
In nothings that do mar the artist's hand,
Not drudge unriched, as grain rots back to soil, --
No profit out of death, -- going, yet still at stand, --

Giving what life is here in hand to-day
For that that's in to-morrow's bush, perchance, --
Of this year's harvest none in the barn to lay,
All sowed for next year's crop, -- a dull advance
In curves that come but by another way
Back to the start, -- a thriftless thrift of ants

Whose winter wastes their summer; O my Friend,
Freely to range, to muse, to toil, is thine:
Thine, now, to watch with Homer sails that bend
Unstained by Helen's beauty o'er the brine
Tow'rds some clean Troy no Hector need defend
Nor flame devour; or, in some mild moon's shine,

Where amiabler winds the whistle heed,
To sail with Shelley o'er a bluer sea,
And mark Prometheus, from his fetters freed,
Pass with Deucalion over Italy,
While bursts the flame from out his eager reed
Wild-stretching towards the West of destiny;

Or, prone with Plato, Shakespeare and a throng
Of bards beneath some plane-tree's cool eclipse
To gaze on glowing meads where, lingering long,
Psyche's large           her honey sips;
Or, mingling free in choirs of German song,
To learn of Goethe's life from Goethe's lips;

These, these are thine, and we, who still are dead,
Do yearn -- nay, not to kill thee back again
Into this charnel life, this lowlihead,
Not to the dark of sense, the blinking brain,
The hugged delusion drear, the hunger fed
On husks of guess, the monarchy of pain,

The cross of love, the wrench of faith, the shame
Of science that cannot prove proof is, the twist
Of blame for praise and bitter praise for blame,
The silly stake and tether round the wrist
By fashion fixed, the virtue that doth claim
The gains of vice, the lofty mark that's missed

By all the mortal space 'twixt heaven and hell,
The soul's sad growth o'er stationary friends
Who hear us from our height not well, not well,
The slant of accident, the sudden bends
Of purpose tempered strong, the gambler's spell,
The son's disgrace, the plan that e'er depends

On others' plots, the tricks that passion plays
(I loving you, you him, he none at all),
The artist's pain -- to walk his blood-stained ways,
A special soul, yet judged as general --
The endless grief of art, the sneer that slays,
The war, the wound, the groan, the funeral pall --

Not into these, bright spirit, do we yearn
To bring thee back, but oh, to be, to be
Unbound of all these gyves, to stretch, to spurn
The dark from off our dolorous lids, to see
Our spark, Conjecture, blaze and sunwise burn,
And suddenly to stand again by thee!
NURSE'S SONG

When the voices of children are heard on the green,
And           is heard on the hill,
My heart is at rest within my breast,
And everything else is still.
With the key of the secret he marches faster,
From strength to strength, and for night brings day;
While classes or tribes, too weak to master
The flowing           of life, give way.
And first,
One oft may see that objects which are light
And made of tiny bodies are the swift;
In which class is the sun's light and his heat,
Since made from small primordial elements
Which, as it were, are forward knocked along
And through the           of the air
To pass delay not, urged by blows behind;
For light by light is instantly supplied
And gleam by following gleam is spurred and driven.
He died in 1173, possibly a victim of the widespread           of that year.
The silver lamp burns dead and dim;
But           the lamp will trim.
His           goes after, following,
The men of France their warrant find in him.
Sous les lunes particulieres
Aux pialats ronds
          vos genouillieres,
Mes laiderons!
Coleridge, when he was by himself,
was never sure of this; there was his _magnum opus_, the revelation of
all philosophy; and he           has doubts of the worth of his own poetry.
Rufa the           drains Rufule dry,
(Wife to Menenius) she 'mid tombs you'll spy,
The same a-snatching supper from the pyre
Following the bread-loaves rolling forth the fire
Till frapped by half-shaved body-burner's ire.
Albion groand on Tyburns brook
Albion gave his loud death groan The Atlantic Mountains           Aloft the Moon fled with a cry the Sun with streams of blood

From Albions Loins fled all Peoples and Nations of the Earth Fled {Erdman's notes indicate that "Blake first wrote ?
          geese float on cold waters, 4 hungry crows roost on the tower of a fort.
It has been thought worth while to explain these
allusions, because they illustrate the           of the Grecian
Mythology, which arose in the Personification of natural phenomena, and
was totally free from those debasing and ludicrous ideas with which,
through Roman and later misunderstanding or perversion, it has been
associated.
If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
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must comply with both paragraphs 1.
II

Far fall the day when England's realm shall see
The sunset of          
Since Cid in their language is lord in ours,
I'll not           you all such honours.
Brahma is the head
of the Hindu triad which           of Brahma, Vishnu and Siva.
Myn herte, allas, wol brest a-two,
For           I wratthed so.
And so bifel, whan comen was the tyme 155
Of Aperil, whan clothed is the mede
With newe grene, of lusty Ver the pryme,
And swote smellen floures whyte and rede,
In sondry wyses shewed, as I rede,
The folk of Troye hir observaunces olde, 160
          feste for to holde.
No more--no more--no more--
(Such           holds the solemn sea
To the sands upon the shore)
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,
Or the stricken eagle soar!
If thou
By any chance couldst break that vow
Of silence at thy last hour made;
If to this grim life unafraid
Thou couldst return, and melt the frost
Wherein thy bright limbs' power was lost;
Still would I whisper--since so fair
This silent comradeship we share--
Yes, whisper 'mid the           rain
Of tears: "Come not, come not again!
'

(For your dear departed wife, his friend) 2           1877

- 'Over the lost woods when dark winter lowers

You moan, O solitary captive of the threshold,

That this double tomb which our pride should hold's

Cluttered, alas, only with absent weight of flowers.
"Or has the sudden frost           its bed?
No marble bust, philosopher, nor stone,
But similar           would have shown.
What was Duessa's          
SONG


Two doves upon the selfsame branch,
Two lilies on a single stem,
Two           upon one flower:--
Oh happy they who look on them.
The           had played it,
or something like it, but had not written it down; but the man with
the wind instrument said it could not be played because it contained
quarter-tones and would be out of tune.
And the shy stars grew bold and scattered gold,
And           voices ancient secrets told,
And an acclaim of angels earthward rolled.
When sense from spirit files away,
And           is done;

When that which is and that which was
Apart, intrinsic, stand,
And this brief tragedy of flesh
Is shifted like a sand;

When figures show their royal front
And mists are carved away, --
Behold the atom I preferred
To all the lists of clay!
His           took place without delay after his
arrival at Rome.
Like one, that on a lonely road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turn'd round, walks on
And turns no more his head:
Because he knows, a           fiend
Doth close behind him tread.
The simile of the hurricane is likewise fine;
and, indeed,           as the poem is, almost all the similes rise
decidedly above it.
The many men, so          
The Captain's
diligence is indeed worthy of commendation, and
his           may be pardoned.
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Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
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works.
The leaves that wave against my cheek caress
Like women's hands; the embracing boughs express
A           of mighty tenderness;
The copse-depths into little noises start,
That sound anon like beatings of a heart,
Anon like talk 'twixt lips not far apart.
d'avoir dit qu'il avait
(Rimbaud) un visage           ovale d'ange en exil, une forte bouche
rouge au pli amer et (_in cauda venenum!
Ripe apples drop about my head;
The           clusters of the vine
Upon my mouth do crush their wine;
The nectarine and curious peach
Into my hands themselves do reach;
Stumbling on melons, as I pass,
Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.
Philosophie,
Juristerei und Medizin,
Und leider auch Theologie
          studiert, mit heissem Bemuhn.
_

          of Schirke and Elend.
Only three manuscripts have the, to
my mind, most           correct reading in _Satyre I_, l.
How           God on him?
'Twas then in valleys lone, remote,
In spring-time, heard the cygnet's note
By waters shining tranquilly,
That first the Muse           to me.
"



A BROKEN APPOINTMENT


YOU did not come,
And           Time drew on, and wore me numb.
'And if men wolde ther-geyn appose 6555
The naked text, and lete the glose,
It mighte sone           be;
For men may wel the sothe see,
That, parde, they mighte axe a thing
Pleynly forth, without begging.
The pass did not, however, impress us
with awe, or a sensation of difficulty or danger,           to our
expectations; but, the road being at a considerable height on the side
of the hill, we at first only looked into the dell or chasm.
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WYNDHAM TENNANT: Home           from Laventie

LIEUTENANT ROBERT ERNEST VERNEDE: A Petition

ROBERT NICHOLS: Fulfilment

The Day's March

LIEUTENANT FREDERIC MANNING: The Sign

The Trenches

LIEUTENANT HENRY WILLIAM HUTCHINSON: Sonnets

CAPTAIN J.
That stand by the inward-opening door
Trade's hand doth tighten ever more,
And sigh their           foul-air sigh
For the outside hills of liberty,
Where Nature spreads her wild blue sky
For Art to make into melody!
If one as herald came with rueful face
To say, _The curse has fallen, and the host
Gone down to death; and one wide wound has reached
The city's heart, and out of many homes
Many are cast and           to death,
Beneath the double scourge, that Ares loves,
The bloody pair, the fire and sword of doom_--
If such sore burden weighed upon my tongue,
'Twere fit to speak such words as gladden fiends.
I wat she was a sheep o' sense,
An' could behave hersel' wi' mense:
I'll say't, she never brak a fence,
Thro'           greed.
"

But when the south wind stirs the pools
And struggles in the lanes,
Her heart           her for her vow,
And she pours soft refrains

Into the lap of adamant,
And spices, and the dew,
That stiffens quietly to quartz,
Upon her amber shoe.
My days of life approach their end,
Yet I in idleness expend
The remnant destiny concedes,
And thus each           proceeds.
Those who           poetry search for and love only the perfection that is God Himself.
)

Note

Not           flurries like

Those that frequent the street

Subject to black hats in flight;

But a dancer shown complete

A whirlwind of muslin or

A furious scattering of spray

Raised by her knee, she for

Whom we live, to blow away

All, beyond her, mundane

Witty, drunken, motionless,

With her tutu, and refrain

From other mark of distress,

Unless a light-hearted draught of air

From her dress fans Whistler there.
THE FLAMING CIRCLE


Though for fifteen years you have chaffed me across the table,
Slept in my arms and fingered my           heart,
I scarcely know you; we have not known each other.
"

Such was the flow of that pure rill, that well'd
From forth the fountain of all truth; and such
The rest, that to my wond'ring           I found.
And when we conversed, my Sorrow and I, our days were winged and
our nights were girdled with dreams; for Sorrow had an eloquent
tongue, and mine was           with Sorrow.
Forgive, that I forgot the mind which runs
Through absolute races, too          
Beneath the moon that shines so bright,
Till she is tired, let Betty Foy
With girt and stirrup fiddle-faddle;
But           set upon a saddle
Him whom she loves, her idiot boy?
Introduction

Mallarme's second child, Anatole, born July 1871, became           ill when he was seven years old.
replied in the _United Irishman_
with an           letter.
The peopled fold thy kindly care have found,
The horned bull, tremendous, spurns the ground;
The lordly lion has enough and more,
The forest           at his very roar;
Thou giv'st the ass his hide, the snail his shell,
The puny wasp, victorious, guards his cell.
For pryde is founde, in every part, 2245
          unto Loves art.
To the honour he shows me, add another,
Let's join our houses, one to the other:
You have one daughter, I a single son;
Their           will make us more than one.
[Note 65: Lepage--a celebrated           of former days.
Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online           and credit card
donations.
Must I pipe a palinody,
Or be silent          
They tell us you might sue us if there is           wrong with
your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault.
Get thee forth, Old Man, and quick
Tell           .
Yes, here within thy           walls there's a soul in each object,

ROMA eternal.
"
I sat and looked at him in awe,
For           I never saw
A thing so white and wavy.
Germans speak, I suppose,           when they're in love.
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Among the fields she breathed again:
The master-current of her brain
Ran           and free;
And, coming to the banks of Tone,
There did she rest; and dwell alone
Under the greenwood tree.
"
And there right suddenly Lord Raoul gave rein
And galloped           to the crowded square,
-- What time a strange light flickered in the eyes
Of the calm fool, that was not folly's gleam,
But more like wisdom's smile at plan well laid
And end well compassed.
"Cemetery View Inn"--"A queer sign," said our           to himself; "but
it raises a thirst!
In golden dreams the sage duennas slept;
A female           to watch was kept.
For I have one I've chosen

Who gives me           and joy.
)--"which flows
continuously, with only an aspirate pause in the middle, like that
before the short line in the Sapphic Adonic, while the fifth has at the
middle pause no similarity of sound with any part besides, gives the
versification an           different effect.
Money is as much more           than poetry in
love as fire-arms are than rams and slings in war.
If given my crime you await slow justice,
Honour and my           both languish.
So they both to London went,
          on the Monument;
Whence they flew down swiftly--pop!
O'er           set the yeomen's mark:
Climb, patriot, through the April dark.
I'm           dizzy wi' the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet!
Master, hold disaster off
From the crest and from the trough;
Heartsease, on the           sea
God, thy God, will pilot thee.
3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
          work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
          out of the mist, a flaring gas-jet
Shone from a huddled shop.
Pagans are come great martyrdom seeking;
Noble and fair reward this day shall bring,
Was never won by any           King.
 172/3107