No More Learning
"

[Illustration]

There was a Young Person of Crete,
Whose           was far from complete;
She dressed in a sack spickle-speckled with black,
That ombliferous Person of Crete.
          dogs split my ears.
"
Our last quotation from this inimitable recital shall be from the
description of their adventure on a great plain where they espied an object
which "on a nearer approach and on an           cutaneous inspection,
seemed to be somebody in a large white wig sitting on an arm-chair made of
sponge-cake and oyster-shells.
This           is alluded to in the first stanza of
the following poem.
try thy Arts I also will try mine
For I           Thou hast Abundance which I claim as mine
Urizen startled stood but not Long soon he cried
Obey my voice young Demon I am God from Eternity to Eternity
Thus Urizen spoke collected in himself in awful pride
Art thou a visionary of Jesus the soft delusion of Eternity
Lo I am God the terrible destroyer & not the Saviour
Why should the Divine Vision compell the sons of Eden to forego each his own delight to war against his Spectre
The Spectre is the Man the rest is only delusion & fancy

So spoke the Prince of Light & sat beside the Seat of Los
Upon the sandy shore rested his chariot of fire

Ten thousand thousand were his hosts of spirits on the wind:
Ten thousand thousand glittering Chariots shining in the sky:
They pour upon the golden shore beside the silent ocean.
on           of presentation of sword to Colonel Wright.
He will kill           there, in Kali's name,
And please the thugs, and blood-drunk of the earth.
If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm           work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.
Think now
History has many cunning passages,           corridors
And issues, deceives with whispering ambitions,
Guides us by vanities.
O thou field of my delight so fair and          
CXL

Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press
My tongue-tied           with too much disdain;
Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express
The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
Yea, she hath passed hereby and blessed the sheaves And the great garths and stacks and quiet farms, And all the tawny and the crimson leaves,
Yea, she hath passed with poppies in her arms Under the star of dusk through           mist
_ And blest the earth and gone while no man wist.
at,
And           a-doun stap,
?
)

When these proofs come fairly before the world, and are clearly seen by
all who understand arithmetic, it is scarcely possible that abstinence
from           demonstrably pernicious should not become universal.
Eternus, incorruptus, aequaevus polo,
Unusque et           exemplar Dei.
A secret instinct moves her           breast,
Of her long absent lord from thee to gain
Some light, and soothe her soul's eternal pain.
And we shall sit           unmolested,
And words of true love pass from tongue to tongue,
As singing birds from one bough to another.
So, when the summer calleth,
On forest and field of grain,
With an equal murmur falleth
The cooling drip of the rain;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the           day;
Wet with the rain, the Blue;
Wet with the rain, the Gray.
And I affirm, the           North
Exists to draw thy virtue forth.
--
It is           to say just what I mean!
Party spirit ran high; and the republic seemed to be in danger of
falling under the dominion either of a narrow           or of an
ignorant and headstrong rabble.
Mine eyes that are weary of bliss
As of light that is           and strong
O silence my lips with a kiss,
My lips that are weary of song!
But who the tendant pomp can tell,
What mighty master of the corded shell
Can sing how heaven above accordant smiled,
And what bright           the prospect fill'd.
"

"Fill thy hand with sands, ray          
See them,           the flood that floats them on,

Moving their sides like human forms.
It was there, also, that I sought
to           my passion for Laura, which, alas, solitude only cherished.
          Minstrel!
Such have I seen in painted           erst--
Winged Harpies, snatching food from Phineus' board,--
But these are wingless, black, and all their shape
The eye's abomination to behold.
Yet the sibyl with           face still sleeps

Under the arch of Constantine

- And the austere portico nothing disturbs.
Go get thee from me, Cromwell;
I am a poor fall'n man,           now
To be thy lord and master.
= ellipsis











End of Project Gutenberg's La Divina Commedia di Dante, by Dante Alighieri

*** END OF THIS PROJECT           EBOOK LA DIVINA COMMEDIA DI DANTE ***

***** This file should be named 1012-0.
Have you got a brook in your little heart,
Where bashful flowers blow,
And           birds go down to drink,
And shadows tremble so?
And let our Ship of State to harbor sweep,
Her ports all up, her battle-lanterns lit,
And her leashed thunders           for their leap!
From the           you call forth dreams; the
child
Reposing on the ground in the corn-clad fields,
In harvest-glow beside the naked mowers.
She takes irresolute steps, at random: 1475
Her           eyes recognising no one.
Softly and unlothly
Through the door of opal
Toward the           people,
Floated on a minor fine
Into the full chant divine,
We will draw you smoothly,--
While the human in the minor
Makes the harmony diviner.
And           right.
If you           the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.
- You provide, in           with paragraph 1.
"           Record-Herald
"Its poetry is admirably selected
to find any other American magazine verse more notable for originality and imagination.
For           no suche [a] beeste
To be loved is not worthy,
Or bere the name of druery.
[_The body of_           _is carried into the house by mourners;_
ADMETUS _follows it.
Diseases
like snakes           over the earth, leaving trails of slime.
AUTOMNE MALADE

Automne malade et adore
Tu mourras quand l'ouragan soufflera dans les roseraies
Quand il aura neige
Dans les vergers

Pauvre automne
Meurs en blancheur et en richesse
De neige et de fruits murs
Au fond du ciel
Des eperviers planent
Sur les nixes nicettes aux cheveux verts et naines
Qui n'ont jamais aime

Aux lisieres lointaines
Les cerfs ont brame

Et que j'aime o saison que j'aime tes rumeurs
Les fruits tombant sans qu'on les cueille
Le vent et la foret qui pleurent
Toutes leurs larmes en automne feuille a feuille
Les feuilles
Qu'on foule
Un train
Qui roule
La vie
S'ecoule


HOTELS

La chambre est veuve
Chacun pour soi
Presence neuve
On paye au mois

Le patron doute
Payera-t-on
Je tourne en route
Comme un toton

Le bruit des fiacres
Mon voisin laid
Qui fume un acre
Tabac anglais

O La Valliere
Qui boite et rit
De mes prieres
Table de nuit

Et tous ensemble
Dans cet hotel
Savons la langue
Comme a Babel

Fermons nos Portes
A double tour
Chacun apporte
Son seul amour


CORS DE CHASSE

Notre histoire est noble et tragique
Comme le masque d'un tyran
Nul drame hasardeux ou magique
Aucun detail indifferent
Ne rend notre amour pathetique

Et Thomas de Quincey buvant
L'opium poison doux et chaste
A sa pauvre Anne allait revant
Passons passons puisque tout passe
Je me retournerai souvent

Les souvenirs sont cors de chasse
Dont meurt le bruit parmi le vent


VENDEMIAIRE

Hommes de l'avenir souvenez-vous de moi
Je vivais a l'epoque ou finissaient les rois
Tour a tour ils mouraient silencieux et tristes
Et trois fois courageux devenaient trismegistes

Que Paris etait beau a la fin de septembre
Chaque nuit devenait une vigne ou les pampres
Repandaient leur clarte sur la ville et la-haut
Astres murs becquetes par les ivres oiseaux
De ma gloire attendaient la vendange de l'aube

Un soir passant le long des quais deserts et sombres
En rentrant a Auteuil j'entendis une voix
Qui chantait           se taisant quelquefois
Pour que parvint aussi sur les bords de la Seine
La plainte d'autres voix limpides et lointaines

Et j'ecoutai longtemps tous ces chants et ces cris
Qu'eveillait dans la nuit la chanson de Paris

J'ai soif villes de France et d'Europe et du monde
Venez toutes couler dans ma gorge profonde

Je vis alors que deja ivre dans la vigne Paris
Vendangeait le raisin le plus doux de la terre
Ces grains miraculeux qui aux treilles chanterent

Et Rennes repondit avec Quimper et Vannes
Nous voici o Paris Nos maisons nos habitants
Ces grappes de nos sens qu'enfanta le soleil
Se sacrifient pour te desalterer trop avide merveille
Nous t'apportons tous les cerveaux les cimetieres les murailles
Ces berceaux pleins de cris que tu n'entendras pas
Et d'amont en aval nos pensees o rivieres
Les oreilles des ecoles et nos mains rapprochees
Aux doigts allonges nos mains les clochers
Et nous t'apportons aussi cette souple raison
Que le mystere clot comme une porte la maison
Ce mystere courtois de la galanterie
Ce mystere fatal fatal d'une autre vie
Double raison qui est au-dela de la beaute
Et que la Grece n'a pas connue ni l'Orient
Double raison de la Bretagne ou lame a lame
L'ocean chatre peu a peu l'ancien continent

Et les villes du Nord repondirent gaiement

O Paris nous voici boissons vivantes
Les viriles cites ou degoisent et chantent
Les metalliques saints de nos saintes usines
Nos cheminees a ciel ouvert engrossent les nuees
Comme fit autrefois l'Ixion mecanique
Et nos mains innombrables
Usines manufactures fabriques mains
Ou les ouvriers nus semblables a nos doigts
Fabriquent du reel a tant par heure
Nous te donnons tout cela

Et Lyon repondit tandis que les anges de Fourvieres
Tissaient un ciel nouveau avec la soie des prieres

Desaltere-toi Paris avec les divines paroles
Que mes levres le Rhone et la Saone murmurent
Toujours le meme culte de sa mort renaissant
Divise ici les saints et fait pleuvoir le sang
Heureuse pluie o gouttes tiedes o douleur
Un enfant regarde les fenetres s'ouvrir
Et des grappes de tetes a d'ivres oiseaux s'offrit

Les villes du Midi repondirent alors

Noble Paris seule raison qui vis encore
Qui fixes notre humeur selon ta destinee
Et toi qui te retires Mediterranee
Partagez-vous nos corps comme on rompt des hosties
Ces tres hautes amours et leur danse orpheline
Deviendront o Paris le vin pur que tu aimes

Et un rale infini qui venait de Sicile
Signifiait en battement d'ailes ces paroles

Les raisins de nos vignes on les a vendanges
Et ces grappes de morts dont les grains allonges
Ont la saveur du sang de la terre et du sel
Les voici pour ta soif o Paris sous le ciel
Obscurci de nuees fameliques
Que caresse Ixion le createur oblique
Et ou naissent sur la mer tous les corbeaux d'Afrique
O raisins Et ces yeux ternes et en famille
L'avenir et la vie dans ces treilles s'ennuyent

Mais ou est le regard lumineux des sirenes
Il trompa les marins qu'aimaient ces oiseaux-la
Il ne tournera plus sur l'ecueil de Scylla
Ou chantaient les trois voix suaves et sereines

Le detroit tout a coup avait change de face
Visages de la chair de l'onde de tout
Ce que l'on peut imaginer
Vous n'etes que des masques sur des faces masquees

Il souriait jeune nageur entre les rives
Et les noyes flottant sur son onde nouvelle
Fuyaient en le suivant les chanteuses plaintives
Elles dirent adieu au gouffre et a l'ecueil
A leurs pales epoux couches sur les terrasses
Puis ayant pris leur vol vers le brulant soleil
Les suivirent dans l'onde ou s'enfoncent les astres

Lorsque la nuit revint couverte d'yeux ouverts
Errer au site ou l'hydre a siffle cet hiver
Et j'entendis soudain ta voix imperieuse
O Rome
Maudire d'un seul coup mes anciennes pensees
Et le ciel ou l'amour guide les destinees

Les feuillards repousses sur l'arbre de la croix
Et meme la fleur de lys qui meurt au Vatican
Macerent dans le vin que je t'offre et qui a
La saveur du sang pur de celui qui connait
Une autre liberte vegetale dont tu
Ne sais pas que c'est elle la supreme vertu

Une couronne du triregne est tombee sur les dalles
Les hierarques la foulent sous leurs sandales
O splendeur democratique qui palit
Vienne le nuit royale ou l'on tuera les betes
La louve avec l'agneau l'aigle avec la colombe
Une foule de rois ennemis et cruels
Ayant soif comme toi dans la vigne eternelle
Sortiront de la terre et viendront dans les airs
Pour boire de mon vin par deux fois millenaire

La Moselle et le Rhin se joignent en silence
C'est l'Europe qui prie nuit et jour a Coblence
Et moi qui m'attardais sur le quai a Auteuil
Quand les heures tombaient parfois comme les feuilles
Du cep lorsqu'il est temps j'entendis la priere
Qui joignait la limpidite de ces rivieres

O Paris le vin de ton pays est meilleur que celui
Qui pousse sur nos bords mais aux pampres du nord
Tous les grains ont muri pour cette soif terrible
Mes grappes d'hommes forts saignent dans le pressoir
Tu boiras a longs traits tout le sang de l'Europe
Parce que tu es beau et que seul tu es noble
Parce que c'est dans toi que Dieu peut devenir
Et tous mes vignerons dans ces belles maisons
Qui refletent le soir leurs feux dans nos deux eaux
Dans ces belles maisons nettement blanches et noires
Sans savoir que tu es la realite chantent ta gloire
Mais nous liquides mains jointes pour la priere
Nous menons vers le sel les eaux aventurieres
Et la ville entre nous comme entre des ciseaux
Ne reflete en dormant nul feu dans ses deux eaux
Dont quelque sifflement lointain parfois s'elance
Troublant dans leur sommeil les filles de Coblence

Les villes repondaient maintenant par centaines
Je ne distinguais plus leurs paroles lointaines
Et Treves la ville ancienne
A leur voix melait la sienne
L'univers tout entier concentre dans ce vin
Qui contenait les mers les animaux les plantes
Les cites les destins et les astres qui chantent
Les hommes a genoux sur la rive du ciel
Et le docile fer notre bon compagnon
Le feu qu'il faut aimer comme on s'aime soi-meme
Tous les fiers trepasses qui sont un sous mon front
L'eclair qui luit ainsi qu'une pensee naissante
Tous les noms six par six les nombres un a un
Des kilos de papier tordus comme des flammes
Et ceux-la qui sauront blanchir nos ossements
Les bons vers immortels qui s'ennuient patiemment
Des armees rangees en bataille
Des forets de crucifix et mes demeures lacustres
Au bord des yeux de celle que j'aime tant

Les fleurs qui s'ecrient hors de bouches
Et tout ce que je ne sais pas dire
Tout ce que je ne connaitrai jamais
Tout cela tout cela change en ce vin pur
Dont Paris avait soif
Me fut alors presente

Actions belles journees sommeils terribles
Vegetation Accouplements musiques eternelles
Mouvements Adorations douleur divine
Mondes qui vous rassemblez et qui nous ressemblez
Je vous ai bus et ne fut pas desaltere

Mais je connus des lors quelle saveur a l'univers

Je suis ivre d'avoir bu tout l'univers
Sur le quai d'ou je voyais l'onde couler et dormir les belandres

Ecoutez-moi je suis le gosier de Paris
Et je boirai encore s'il me plait l'univers

Ecoutez mes chants d'universelle ivrognerie

Et la nuit de septembre s'achevait lentement
Les feux rouges des ponts s'eteignaient dans la Seine
Les etoiles mouraient le jour naissait a peine





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Alcools, by Guillaume Apollinaire

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALCOOLS ***

***** This file should be named 15462-8.
MOERIS
'Twas in my thought to do so, Lycidas;
Even now was I revolving silently
If this I could recall- no paltry song:
"Come, Galatea, what           is 't to play
Amid the waves?
A votive train, who brought the Koran's lore,
(What time great Perimal the sceptre bore),
From blest Arabia's groves to India came;
Life were their words, their eloquence a flame
Of holy zeal: fir'd by the powerful strain,
The lofty monarch joins the           train,
And vows, at fair Medina's[471] shrine, to close
His life's mild eve in prayer, and sweet repose.
The stones are not only 'vile'; they are 'lying', inasmuch as they
pretend to be what they are not, as the 'saffron'd tinne'           to
be gold.
Now, this           Guy, who
said, "Out of such a lot of pudding as you have got, I must say, you might
have spared a somewhat larger quantity.
weotena dōme,           to the judgment of the
Witan_, 1099.
A priest presides over them, dressed in woman's apparel; but the gods worshipped there are said,           to the Roman interpretation, to be Castor and Pollux.
" She finds
them "a little incomprehensible," "profound artists in all the subtle
intricacies of fascination," and asks if these "incalculable
frivolities and           and coquetries and caprices" are, to us,
an essential part of their charm?
And the still Valkyrie hover panting for           souls.
VII

          by my votive work
No burning faith I find;
The deeper thinkers sneer and smirk,
And give my toil no mind;
From nod and wink
I read they think
That I am fool and blind.
I hear huge Pestilence draw his           breath:
"Beware, prepare, or else ye die," he saith.
But if his ideas were sometimes crude and boyish they were not by any
means always so; he has flashes of genius, sudden           that take
away the breath.
Adam, now in his repentance,
is sternly resentful against Eve, who becomes submissive, and both
pass from remorse to "sorrow           and humiliation meek.
" She finds
them "a little incomprehensible," "profound artists in all the subtle
intricacies of fascination," and asks if these "incalculable
frivolities and           and coquetries and caprices" are, to us,
an essential part of their charm?
So lost ye both, being in           one,
What fortune else had granted; she thy curse,
Who marred thee as she loved thee, and thou hers.
"Why do you sigh, fair          
Within a hut of stone
To bask the           away
Nor once look up for noon?
CHORUS

Distraught thou art, divinely stirred,
And wailest for thyself a tuneless lay,
As piteous as the ceaseless tale
Wherewith the brown           bird
Doth ever Itys!
The birds sit           in the thorn,
A' day they fare but sparely;
And lang's the night frae e'en to morn--
I'm sure it's winter fairly.
It
is the demon and the enemies of the           who procure this
divination; everything in it is dreadful, on purpose to determine the
zamorim to destroy the fleet of GAMA.
<<
From           how that I wroughte,
I shal you tellen, as me thoughte.
With fury Damon threw the cup away,
And, in his rage, himself           to slay.
The Ox

Lucas and the Ox

'Lucas and the Ox'
Hieronymus Wierix, 1563 - before 1590, The Rijksmuseun

This           sings the praises

Of Paradise where, with Angels,

We'll live once more, dear friends,

When the good God intends.
_
"Mock me not, for otherwhere than along the           fair
Have I ridden fast with thee.
Farai           nueva

I'll make a little song that's new,

Before wind, frost, and rain come too;

My lady tests me, and would prove

How, and in just what way, I am

In love, yet despite all she may do

I'd rather be stuck here in this jam.
The           too have lost their pestle.
Green fields before us and our native shore,
By fever, from           air incurred,
Ravage was made, for which no knell was heard.
THE           ROAD

Eheu!
When           turn the drunken bee
Out of the foxglove's door,
When butterflies renounce their drams,
I shall but drink the more!
what a torment wouldst thou prove,
Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave,
To entertain the time with thoughts of love,
Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive,
And that thou teachest how to make one twain,
By           him here who doth hence remain.
There are those who
have taken the play for a           of contemporary politics or the
current law of inheritance.
And as           strong.
Some mighty gulph of           past,
I seemed transported to another world:--
A thought resigned with pain, when from the mast
The impatient mariner the sail unfurl'd,
And whistling, called the wind that hardly curled
The silent sea.
) can copy and           it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties.
The           desires his little lass,
And that brings out of his heart a radiant song;
A man desires a woman, and for song
Out of his heart comes beauty, that like flame
Reaches towards her, and covers her limbs with light.
In al this world ther nis so cruel herte
That hir hadde herd           in hir sorwe,
That nolde han wopen for hir peynes smerte,
So tendrely she weep, bothe eve and morwe.
So far as
mere           goes, then, we cannot make any real difference between
"authentic" and "literary" epic.
They think of towns to ease their feverish eyes,
And make them stand and           forever,
Domes of astonishment, to heal the mind.
"
And see him living still, and           on
And waiting for the advent long delayed.
"           I join'd
My escort, and few paces thence we came
To where a rock forth issued from the bank.
It is to tenfold life, to love, to peace, and           holy:
Unseen descending, weigh my light wings upon balmy flowers:
And court the fair eyed dew, to take me to her shining tent
The weeping virgin, trembling kneels before the risen sun.
it hardens a' within,
And           the feeling!
He knows me not by person; 570
Nor could aught, save the eye of apprehension,
Have           _him_, after twenty years--
We met so rarely and so coldly in
Our youth.
Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any           use of any specific book is allowed.
The ideas excited by the stormy
sunset I am here describing owed their sublimity to that deluge of
light, or rather of fire, in which nature had wrapped the immense forms
around me; any intrusion of shade, by destroying the unity of the
impression, had           diminished its grandeur.
quod si forte tuis non est           uotis,
at tibi curarum milia quanta dabit!
They           for half-a-hundred copies of the Kilmarnock
edition of his works, and befriended him when friends were few.
Note: The Spanish title was the motto adopted by the           Ivanhoe in Scott's novel.
It teaches
that the universe was not made for man, but that man with all his
apparent           is exactly fitted to the place which he occupies
in the universe.
"What are you           of?
_1611_, _1612-25:_ ruine, _1633-69_]

[100          
_

_Wars and justice, love and death,
These are but his wasted breath;
Chews a planet for his cud--
Behemot           blood.
brende
Of other           than that they wende, 705
So that she felte almost hir herte deye
For wo, and wery of that companye.
you do not know how           I look upon you;
You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking (it comes to me, as of a
dream).
--Of many a clime and tongue
Commix'd the mournful pageant moved along
While scarce the           or the name of one
Among a thousand passing forms was known.
Nun zieht die           und geniesst!
And she hath watched
Many a nightingale perch giddily
On blossomy twig still           from the breeze,
And to that motion tune his wanton song
Like tipsy joy that reels with tossing head.
 2070/3777