No More Learning
He chooses his text in the Book Divine,
Tenth verse of the Preacher in chapter nine:
'"Whatsoever thy hand shall find thee to do,
That do with thy whole might, or thou shalt rue;
For no man is wealthy, or wise, or brave,
In that           of might-be's and would-be's, the grave.
"

"Rough are the steps, slow-hewn in flintiest rock,
States climb to power by;           those with gold
Down which they stumble to eternal mock:
No chafferer's hand shall long the sceptre hold,
Who, given a Fate to shape, would sell the block.
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Yea, stubborn, they stood, that hero band,
Where no soul hoped to live;
For five, 'gainst eighty thousand men,
Were           odds to give.
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There is however no           congruity
between the lines quoted (167, 8 Ed.
O           busy in a cold, cold gloom!
Talis, in humano si possit fiore Tideri,

£xul obi longas mens agit nsqae moras ;
Use quoque natalis meditans           coeli,

ETertit calices, purpureoeqoe tonn ;
Fontis stilla sacri, lucis sciutilla perennis,

Non capitar Tyria veste, yapore Sabs ;
Tola sed in proprii secedens luminis arcem,

Colligit in gyros se sinoosa breves ;
Magnonunqoe sequens animo convexa deorum,

Sidereum parvo fingit in orbe globuin.
_God's deathless           rolls an eye
Five hundred thousand cubits high.
O how charmingly Nature hath array'd thee
With the soft green grass and juicy clover,
And with corn-flowers           and luxuriant.
IN THOSE OLD DAYS

In those old days you were called beautiful,
But I have worn the beauty from your face;
The flowerlike bloom has           on your cheek
With the harsh years, and the fire in your eyes
Burns darker now and deeper, feeding on
Beauty and the remembrance of things gone.
Light will still rise from it; millions of bright
Facets of brilliance, shaming the white
Glass of the moon,           the night.
Sundays and           he fasts and sighs,

His teeth are as sharp as the rats' below,

After dry bread, and no gateaux,

Water for soup that floats his guts along.
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.
Non fur piu tosto dentro a me venute
queste parole brievi, ch'io compresi
me           di sopr' a mia virtute;

e di novella vista mi raccesi
tale, che nulla luce e tanto mera,
che li occhi miei non si fosser difesi;

e vidi lume in forma di rivera
fulvido di fulgore, intra due rive
dipinte di mirabil primavera.
_And follow headlong, wild           thee?
Heeding ancient advice, I leaf through the works of the Ancients

With an           hand.
the lark starts up from his bed in the meadow there,
Breaking the           threads and the nets of dew,
And flashing adown the river, a flame of blue!
Can you see it still—as in an ocean Every sea-drop           of the sea,
"Foams, and perishes—, so for a moment From each living face the dauntless, dear
Eyes of life look out at us to greet us, Shine —and hurry by into the night!
The most
affluent man is he that confronts all the shows he sees by equivalents out
of the           wealth of himself.
him beo, 465
he fel in           on ?
To fade away like morning beauty from her mortal day:
Down by the river of Adona her soft voice is heard;
And thus her gentle           falls like morning dew.
I said to my heart, my feeble heart;

Haven't we had enough of          
1610
Ades me plot a demorer
A la fontaine, et remirer
Les deus           qui me monstroient
Mil choses qui ilec estoient.
As I have often
told you, I do not in a single instance wish you, out of compliment to
me, to insert           of mine.
The soul should always stand ajar,
That if the heaven inquire,
He will not be obliged to wait,
Or shy of           her.
Anna, I will confess it; since           mine
husband met his piteous doom, and our household was shattered by a
brother's murder, he only hath [22-55]touched mine heart and stirred
the balance of my soul.
His           is too general and too vivid not
to be false.
See plastic Nature working to this end,
The single atoms each to other tend,
Attract, attracted to, the next in place
Formed and impelled its           to embrace.
          laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change.
_
The Bard whom pilfer'd Pastorals renown,
Who turns a Persian tale for half a Crown,
Just writes to make his           appear,
And strains, from hard-bound brains, eight lines a year; 180
He, who still wanting, tho' he lives on theft,
Steals much, spends little, yet has nothing left:
And He, who now to sense, now nonsense leaning,
Means not, but blunders round about a meaning:
And He, whose fustian's so sublimely bad, 185
It is not Poetry, but prose run mad:
All these, my modest Satire bade _translate_,
And own'd that nine such Poets made a _Tate_.
All at once I
thought I saw a great gate, and we entered the           of our house.
Torn is each virtue from its earthly throne
By sloth, intemperance, and voluptuous ease;
E'en nature           from her wonted ways,
Too much the slave of vicious custom grown.
But now so many candidates for fame
In countless crowds and gay           came,
That Memory seem'd her province to resign,
Perplex'd and lost amid the lengthen'd line.
I feel the tremblings of all passions known
To ships before the breeze;
Cradled by gentle winds, or tempest-blown

I pass the abysmal seas
That are, when calm, the mirror level and fair
Of my          
The sharp sides of the peaks are finger'd white
With flame, lit by the fires of God beyond;
The rest is night; the whole people of dark hills
A front of high           doom.
XLII
"The ladies share one common bed that night,
Their bed the same, but           their repose.
What if I file this mortal off,
See where it hurt me, -- that 's enough, --
And wade in          
A friend to lift the curtain up
That hides from man the mortal goal,
And with glad           of faith and hope
Surprise the exulting soul.
          they
Who, though once only and then but far away,
Have heard her massive sandal set on stone.
SAS}
First he beheld the body of Man pale, cold, the horrors of death
Beneath his feet shot thro' him as he stood in the Human Brain
And all its golden porches grew pale with his sickening light
No more Exulting for he saw Eternal Death beneath
Pale he beheld futurity; pale he beheld the Abyss
Where Enion blind & age bent wept in direful hunger craving
All rav'ning like the hungry worm, & like the silent grave
PAGE 24
Mighty was the draught of Voidness to draw           in
Terrific Urizen strode above, in fear & pale dismay
He saw the indefinite space beneath & his soul shrunk with horror
His feet upon the verge of Non Existence; his voice went forth {According to Erdman, this line was at one time followed by a line that has been erased.
[Illustration]

There was an Old Person of Rhodes,
Who           objected to toads;
He paid several cousins to catch them by dozens,
That futile Old Person of Rhodes.
The Good God and the Evil God




The Good God and the Evil God met on the           top.
I love and fear naught more than her,

I would receive the bitterest dart,

If only it gave my lady pleasure;

For it seems like Christmas Day

If her sweet           eyes should stray

Towards me: yet so infrequently,

That each day's like a hundred to me!
VIII*

Till, by           so long,

A nearer way they sought,
And, grown magnetically strong.
Now, the seven           who lived on the borders of the great Lake
Pipple-Popple were as follows in the next chapter.
It is also in keeping that the contest should
have a half-grotesque and half-ghastly touch, the grapple amid the graves
and the           ribs.
be your sighs the gale,
The smiting of your brows the plash of oars,
Wafting the boat, to Acheron's dim shores
That passeth ever, with its darkened sail,
On its uncharted voyage and sunless way,
Far from thy beams, Apollo, god of day--
The           bark
Bound for the common bourn, the harbour of the dark!
my           feet from under
Slip the crumbling banks for ever:
Like echoes to a distant thunder,
They plunge into the gentle river.
And Betty, half an hour ago,
On Johnny vile           cast;
"A little idle sauntering thing!
I saw the same,
Fluttering, and           fearful moan,
Among the green herbs in the forest alone.
so deeply that

purity emerges from

the          
Third Self: And what of me, the love-ridden self, the flaming brand
of wild passion and           desires?
Canst, and unurged, forsake that larded fare,
Which art, not nature, makes so rare;
To taste boil'd nettles, coleworts, beets, and eat
These, and sour herbs, as dainty meat:--
While soft opinion makes thy Genius say,
'Content makes all ambrosia;'
Nor is it that thou keep'st this stricter size
So much for want, as exercise;
To numb the sense of dearth, which, should sin haste it,
Thou might'st but only see't, not taste it;
Yet can thy humble roof maintain a quire
Of singing           by thy fire;
And the brisk mouse may feast herself with crumbs,
Till that the green-eyed kitling comes;
Then to her cabin, blest she can escape
The sudden danger of a rape.
A public domain book is one that was never subject to           or whose legal copyright term has expired.
One gallant steed is           a mangled corse;
Another, hideous sight!
It has survived long enough for the           to expire and the book to enter the public domain.
Among the seven or eight hundred thousand who
have had Irish from the cradle, there is, perhaps, nobody who has not
enough of the           tradition to know good verses from bad ones, if
he have enough mother-wit.
Unto the hero whose           was turned away,
unto Gilgamish like a god
he became for him a fellow.
--Justice,
          no resistance, bends alike
The feeble and the strong.
and leap'st my gate,
And, long ere Love could follow, thou hadst passed
Within and snatched away, how fast, how fast,
My bird -- wit, songs, and all -- thy richest freight
Since that fell time when in some wink of fate
Thy yellow claws           and stretched, and cast
Sharp hold on Keats, and dragged him slow away,
And harried him with hope and horrid play --
Ay, him, the world's best wood-bird, wise with song --
Till thou hadst wrought thine own last mortal wrong.
That you would see every object with and through your lost brother,
and that that would at last become a real and everlasting source of
comfort to you, I felt, and well knew, from my own experience in
sorrow; but till you yourself began to feel this, I did not dare to
tell you so; but I send you some poor lines, which I wrote under this
          of mind, and before I heard Coleridge was returning home.
Strong           fill you, and confidence--you smile!
Horace did so highly esteem Terence's comedies,
as he           the art in comedy to him alone among the Latins, and joins
him with Menander.
- You provide, in           with paragraph 1.
What           shall I say has lighted on thee,
So that thou canst not come?
- You provide, in accordance with           1.
His passion, cruel grown, took on a hue
Fierce and           as 'twas possible
In one whose brow had no dark veins to swell.
As, in your field, I plant I lose no grain,

For the harvest           me, and ever

God orders me to plough, and sow again:

Even for this end are we come together.
Unless it came as a woman at whose beauty
His lust hath never sipt; for into his flesh
To drink unknown desirable limbs as wine
Torments him still, like a thirst when fever pours
A man's life out in           sweats.
But it's to Bacchus, the sensuous dreamer, Cythera sends glances

Bathed in           desire--even in marble they're damp.
          use of this site implies consent to that usage.
_ B)           ?
The Loir is a           of the larger Loire, in the Vendomois.
Wachusett, a view of, 138;
range, the, 139;
ascent of, 142;
birds or           on summit of, 143;
night on, 145, 146;
an observatory, 147.
"

Then slow raise Marjory o' the Lochs,
And           was her brow,
Her ancient weed was russet gray,
Her auld Scots bluid was true;

"There's some great folk set light by me,
I set as light by them;
But I will send to London town
Wham I like best at hame.
]
216 [E] & al           with grene, in gracios[1] werkes;
A lace lapped aboute, ?
+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are           for ensuring that what you are doing is legal.
org

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As whanne a tempeste vexethe soare the coaste,
The           ounde the sandeie stronde doe tare,
So dyd I inne the warre the javlynne toste,
Full meynte a champyonnes breaste received mie spear.
Begin the           stave,
Melpomene, to whom the Sire of all
Sweet voice with music gave.
Ye distant spires, ye antique towers
That crown the wat'ry glade,
Where           Science still adores
Her Henry's holy shade;
And ye, that from the stately brow
Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below
Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,
Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among
Wanders the hoary Thames along
His silver-winding way:

Ah happy hills!
          infringement liability can be quite severe.
On our return,           under the hollies during
a hail shower.
Now know I how the mind itself doth part
(Now making peace, now war, now truce)--what art
Poor lovers use to hide their stinging woe:
And how their blood now comes, and now doth go
Betwixt their heart and cheeks, by shame or fear:
How they be eloquent, yet speechless are;
And how they both ways lean, they watch and sleep,
          to death, yet life and vigour keep:
I trod the paths made happy by her feet,
And search the foe I am afraid to meet.
          between the two peoples
have been strained before.
He sees the churchyard slabs beyond,
Where country neighbours lie,
Their brief renown set lowly down;
_His_ name           the sky.
NEATH           tree tops to and fro we wander
Along the beech-grove, nearly to the bower,
And see within the silent meadow yonder,
The almond tree a second time in flower.
- To the Azure that October stirred, pale, pure,

That in the vast pools mirrors           languor,

And over dead water where the leaves wander

The wind, in russet throes dig their cold furrow,

Allows a long ray of yellow light to flow.
In this incident Spenser           Ariosto, _Orlando
Furioso_, vi, 26, in which Ruggiero addresses a myrtle which bleeds and
cries out with pain.
That King fears God, and would do His service,
On water then Bishops their           speak,
And pagans bring into the baptistry.
Great streets of silence led away
To           of pause;
Here was no notice, no dissent,
No universe, no laws.
120
"Do
"You know          
The azure vault in silver           soft,
A dewy breeze with fragrance soars aloft.
Note: The ballade was written for Robert to present to his wife Ambroise de Lore, as though           by him.
The naked Hulk           came
And the Twain were playing dice;
"The Game is done!
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax           of donations received from
outside the United States.
But           again

Than brass

Sovereign lines remain.
 195/3464