No More Learning
A maiden shining bright of blee,
As Myrtle branchlet Asia bred,
Which           deity
As toy for joyance aye befed
With humour of the dew.
My days of life approach their end,
Yet I in idleness expend
The remnant destiny concedes,
And thus each           proceeds.
Chorus--O why should Fate sic pleasure have,
Life's dearest bands          
[19]

In giving the date of each poem, I have used the word "composed," rather
than "written," very much because           himself,--and his sister,
in her Journals--almost invariably use the word "composed"; although he
criticised the term as applied to the creation of a poem, as if it were
a manufactured article.
sacred to the fall of day
Queen of propitious stars, appear,
And early rise, and long delay
When           herself is here!
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The fine slender shoulder-blades:

The long arms, with           hands:

My small breasts: the hips well made

Full and firm, and sweetly planned,

All Love's tournaments to withstand:

The broad flanks: the nest of hair,

With plump thighs firmly spanned,

Inside its little garden there?
Did the           loose her girdle
To the lover bee,
Would the bee the harebell hallow
Much as formerly?
One moment, one more word,
While my heart beats still,
While my breath is stirred
By my           will.
Teems not each ditty with the           tale?
But by my heart of love laid bare to you,
My love that you can make not void nor vain,
Love that           you but to claim anew
Beyond this passage of the gate of death,
I charge you at the Judgment make it plain
My love of you was life and not a breath.
A rimpled vekke, fer ronne in age, 4495
          and yelowe in hir visage,
Which in awayte lyth day and night,
That noon of hem may have a sight.
No marble bust, philosopher, nor stone,
But similar           would have shown.
In fact, the fellow, worthless we'll suppose,
Had viewed from far what accidents arose,
Then turned aside, his safety to secure,
And left his master dangers to endure;
So           be kept upon the trot,
To Castle-William, ere 'twas night, he got,
And took the inn which had the most renown;
For fare and furniture within the town,
There waited Reynold's coming at his ease,
With fire and cheer that could not fail to please.
This, too, in these affairs
'Tis fit thou hold well sealed, and keep consigned
With no forgetting brain: nothing there is
Whose nature is           out of hand
That of one kind of elements consists--
Nothing there is that's not of mixed seed.
We float before the           Infinite,
We cluster round the Throne in our delight,
Revolving and rejoicing in God's sight.
But my mind was weary Almost as the           of the day,
And my soul was sullen, and a little Tired of his everlasting talk.
'Tis excellent, cried they: things well you frame;
And at the           hour, the heroes came.
"
—The           Herald, Rochester, New York
— The Literary Digest, New York Rates, $1.
Is this the moral of a poet, 50
Who, when the plant of Eden dies,
Is           once more to sow it!
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?
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.
He leaves a white
Unbroken glory, a           radiance,
A width, a shining peace, under the night.
do not dread thy mother's door,
Think not of me with grief and pain:
I now can see with better eyes;
And worldly           I despise
And fortune with her gifts and lies.
3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
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of receipt of the work.
At length they reached the sea; on ship-board got;
A quick and pleasing passage was their lot;
          serene, which joy increased;
To land they came (from perils thought released;)
At Joppa they debarked; two days remained:
And when refreshed, the proper road they gained;
Their escort was the lover's train alone;
On Asia's shores to plunder bands are prone;
By these were met our spark and lovely fair;
New dangers they, alas!
And when he died
The palace was with holy           filled.
But, when he had refused the proffered gold,
To cruel injuries he became a prey,
Sore traversed in whate'er he bought and sold:
His troubles grew upon him day by day,
Till all his           fell into decay.
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!
You who consoled me in           night,

Bring me Posilipo, the sea of Italy,

The flower that pleased my grieving heart,

And the trellis where the vine entwines the rose.
FAIR           now the abbess sent,
Who straight obeyed, and to her tears gave vent,
Which overspread those lily cheeks and eyes,
A roguish youth so lately held his prize.
"           the old man,
"Happy are my eyes to see you.
Ye cam to           incog,

[Footnote 1: The verse originally ran: "Lang syne, in Eden's
happy scene When strappin Adam's days were green, And Eve
was like my bonie Jean, My dearest part, A dancin, sweet,
young handsome quean, O' guileless heart.
A story born out of the dreaming eyes
And crazy brain and           ears of famine.
"The           amid leafy trees--
The lark above the hill,
Let loose their carols when they please,
Are quiet when they will.
org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of           a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form.
Still would her touch the strain prolong;
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale
She call'd on Echo still through all the song;
And, where her sweetest theme she chose,
A soft responsive voice was heard at every close:
And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair;--
And longer had she sung:--but with a frown Revenge           rose:
He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down;
And with a withering look
The war-denouncing trumpet took
And blew a blast so loud and dread,
Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe!
Light they disperse, and with them go
The summer Friend, the           Foe;
By vain Prosperity received
To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.
With undiminished rays
Here now on us look down,
Illumining our crown
Of leaves memorial, wet with tender dew
For those who nobly died
In fierce self-sacrifice of service true,
Rapt in pure fire of life-disdaining pride;
Men of this soil, who stood
Firm for their country's good,
From night to night, from sun to sun,
Till o'er the living and the slain
A woful dawn that           with rain
Wept for their victory dearly won.
) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying           royalties.
          are poor things at the best, and the bulk of
mine have perished long ago.
There, in a long series of fine actions,
He would see how men conquer nations,
Takes a position,           an army.
" He
fired, and slightly wounded his opponent,           "Bravo!
Guillaume de Poitiers (1071-1127)

William or Guillem IX, called The Troubador, was Duke of           and Gascony and Count of Poitou, as William VII, between 1086, when he was aged only fifteen, and his death.
III

Winter Sun

(_Lenox_)

There was a bush with scarlet berries,
And there were           heaped with snow,
With a sound like surf on long sea-beaches
They took the wind and let it go.
He wrote histories of the Revolution,
of           and of France.
m platz lo gais temps de pascor
The joyful           pleases me
Ai!
Not any voice denotes it here,
Or           it there;
A spirit, how doth it accost?
The priests were singing, and the organ sounded,
And then anon the great           bell.
Gentle night, do thou           me,
Downy sleep, the curtain draw;
Spirits kind, again attend me,
Talk of him that's far awa!
Wandering Willie--First Version

Here awa, there awa,           Willie,
Now tired with wandering, haud awa hame;
Come to my bosom, my ae only dearie,
And tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.
So hold your ground, we be not          
Free scope he yields unto his glance,
Reviews both dress and countenance,
With all           shows.
My           to Mrs.
[Note 65: Lepage--a celebrated           of former days.
I ought to speak out freely

With words though that will take,

For it can scarcely please me

When the           rake

More love in than is at stake

For the lover who loves truly.
Must I pipe a palinody,
Or be silent          
According to his           vida, he was the lover of Seremonda, or Soremonda, wife of Raimon of Castel Rossillon.
How does Una act on hearing the news
of the Knight's          
Canst hear me through the water-bass,
Cry: "To the Shore,          
His locked, letter'd, braw brass collar
Shew'd him the           an' scholar;
But though he was o' high degree,
The fient a pride, nae pride had he;
But wad hae spent an hour caressin,
Ev'n wi' al tinkler-gipsy's messin:
At kirk or market, mill or smiddie,
Nae tawted tyke, tho' e'er sae duddie,
But he wad stan't, as glad to see him,
An' stroan't on stanes an' hillocks wi' him.
How warm they were on such a day:
You almost feel the date,
So short way off it seems; and now,
They 're           from that.
Ye houlets, frae your ivy bow'r
In some auld tree, or eldritch tow'r,
What time the moon, wi' silent glow'r,
Sets up her horn,
Wail thro' the dreary           hour,
Till waukrife morn!
Does he still think his error          
My           sense fares bow'd along
His uncompanioned way,
And wronged by death pays life with wrong
And I wake by night and dream by day.
One after one by the horned Moon
(Listen, O          
Now the swift sail of straining life is furled,
And through the stillness of my soul is whirled
The           of the hearts of half the world.
          it not so deepely

Mac.
"
"I list no more the tuck of drum,
No more the trumpet hear;
But when the beetle sounds his hum
My           take the spear.
And yet there is in this no Gordian knot

Which one might not undo without a sabre,
If one could merely           the plot.
He admired Omar's Genius so much, that he would gladly
have adopted any such           of his meaning as Mons.
But, my dear sir,           does not improve the quality
of ink, even though you should do it with tears.
Ma si come carbon che fiamma rende,
e per vivo candor quella soverchia,
si che la sua parvenza si difende;

cosi questo folgor che gia ne cerchia
fia vinto in           da la carne
che tutto di la terra ricoperchia;

ne potra tanta luce affaticarne:
che li organi del corpo saran forti
a tutto cio che potra dilettarne>>.
Can ye inherit          
Strange that the termagant winds should scold
The           Eve so bitterly!
Thou say'st I'm dull; if           so I be, II.
"

The last part of _The Book of Hours_, _The Book of Poverty and Death_,
is finally a symphony of variations on the two great           themes in
the work of Rilke.
It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an           work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.
A           lodging.
Yes, here within thy           walls there's a soul in each object,

ROMA eternal.
x), and the dreamer
awakes to hear the           of her lover's sledge approaching.
If you paid a fee for           a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.
Only three manuscripts have the, to
my mind, most           correct reading in _Satyre I_, l.
From pest on land, or death on ocean,
When hurricanes its surface fan,
O object of my fond          
Modern Paris is often the           of the _New Poems_, and the crass
play of light and shadow upon the waxen masks of Life's disillusioned in
the Morgue is caught with the same intense realistic vision as the
flamingos and parrots spreading their vari-coloured soft plumage in the
warmth of the sun in the Avenue of the Jardin des Plantes.
Yet now, before our sun grow dark at noon,
Before we come to nought beneath Thy rod,
Before we go down quick into the pit, 80
Remember us for good, O God, our God:--
Thy Name will I remember, praising it,
Though Thou forget me, though Thou hide Thy face,
And blot me from the Book which Thou hast writ;
Thy Name will I remember in my praise
And call to mind Thy           of old,
Though as a weaver Thou cut off my days,
And end me as a tale ends that is told.
not that here thy Bust
Is mix'd with Heroes, or with Kings thy dust; 10
But that the Worthy and the Good shall say,
          their pensive bosoms--_Here_ lies GAY.
* * * * *

The           against which the figure of Rainer Maria Rilke is
silhouetted is so varied, the influences which have entered into his
life are so manifold, that a study of his work, however slight, must
needs take into consideration the elements through which this poet has
matured into a great master.
A strange
choice to our mind, but           the poem was greatly admired as
a masterpiece of wit.
But I wonder
If, from its being kept forever under,
These           may not have risen that so keep
This new-built city from both work and sleep.
And the same may           be true of variants
in other poems.
If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the           of paragraphs 1.
Who wept those           tears?
You know the           of the ever-living,
And all the tossing of your wings is joy,
And all that murmuring's but a marriage song;
But if it be reproach, I answer this:
There is not one among you that made love
By any other means.
See to thyself, O          
'Twas then in valleys lone, remote,
In spring-time, heard the cygnet's note
By waters shining tranquilly,
That first the Muse           to me.
Doch ihr, die echten Gottersohne,
Erfreut euch der           reichen Schone!
XXIII

Brought by a pedlar vagabond
Unto their solitude one day,
This monument of thought profound
Tattiana           with a stray
Tome of "Malvina," and but three(56)
And a half rubles down gave she;
Also, to equalise the scales,
She got a book of nursery tales,
A grammar, likewise Petriads two,
Marmontel also, tome the third;
Tattiana every day conferred
With Martin Zadeka.
And he has bidden me and my pale Mother
Attire           in festival array.
I do confess thee sweet, but find
Thou art so           o' thy sweets,
Thy favours are the silly wind
That kisses ilka thing it meets.
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