No More Learning
Only the           for the same
author is included}.
Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven
That rustle through the unquiet Heaven
Uneasily, from morn till even,
Over the violets there that lie
In myriad types of the human eye--
Over the lilies there that wave
And weep above a           grave!
The frequent mention in the course of this
poem of romances once enjoying a European celebrity but now
consigned to oblivion, will impress the reader with the
transitory nature of merely           literary reputation.
The scents of red roses and sandalwood flutter
and die in the maze of their gem-tangled hair,
And smiles are entwining like magical serpents
the poppies of lips that are opiate-sweet;
Their glittering garments of purple are burning
like tremulous dawns in the           air,
And exquisite, subtle and slow are the tinkle
and tread of their rhythmical, slumber-soft feet.
Then at the jutting land, Cimmerian styled,
That screens the           portal of the mere,
Thou shalt arrive; pass o'er it, brave at heart,
And ferry thee across Macotis' ford.
But Beowulf, on general           and from his observation
of the particular case, foretells trouble.
XXII

When this brave city, honouring the Latin name,

Bounded on the Danube, in Africa,

Among the tribes along the Thames' shore,

And where the rising sun ascends in flame,

Her own nurslings stirred, in           game

Against her very self, the spoils of war,

So dearly won from all the world before,

That same world's spoil suddenly became:

So when the Great Year its course has run,

And twenty six thousand years are done,

The elements freed from Nature's accord,

Those seeds that are the source of everything,

Will return in Time to their first discord,

Chaos' eternal womb their presence hiding.
]
[Sidenote E: He has no men with mails           precious things.
)
Why we have not           into friends.
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.
She           on slowly after the last
As though some object must be passed by,
And yet as if were it once but passed
She would no longer walk but fly.
Sonst blas ich ihm sein           aus.
Canst hear me through the water-bass,
Cry: "To the Shore,          
sole despair
Of both the           in Heaven!
Resort then to some calmer fuller fount,
For of all           mine is drain'd and dry,
Save that which falleth from mine eyes in tears.
Whanne           of oure famous fyghte shall saie,
Echone wylle marvelle atte the dernie dede,
Echone wylle wyssen hee hanne seene the daie, 685
And bravelie holped to make the foemenn blede;
Botte for yer holpe oure battelle wylle notte nede;
Oure force ys force enowe to staie theyre honde;
Wee wylle retourne unto thys grened mede,
Oer corses of the foemen of the londe.
          angels these that shine,
Your own angel, and yours, and mine;
Who have hedged us both day and night
On the left hand and on the right,
Who have watched us both night and day
Because the Devil keeps watch to slay.
(_O citizens, awhile from words          
But naught can Love's all           power efface,
That light, our misty tracks suspended o'er,
In joy thou'rt ours, more dear thy tearful grace,
The young may curse thee, but the old adore.
And my heart was empty of memory and hope and desire
Till, rousing, I looked afresh on your face as you gazed--
Behind you an old gnarled fruit-tree in one still fire
Of innumerable flame in the sun of October blazed,
Scarlet and gold that the first white frost would spill
With eddying flicker and patter of dead leaves falling--
looked on your face, as an outcast from Eden recalling
A vision of Eve as she dallied bewildered and still

By the serpent-encircled tree of knowledge that flamed
With gold and scarlet of good and evil, her eyes
Rapt on the river of life: then bright and untamed
By the labour and sorrow and fear of a world that dies
Your ignorant eyes looked up into mine; and I knew
That never our hearts should be one till your young lips had tasted
The core of the bitter-sweet fruit, and wise and toil-wasted
You should stand at my           an outcast from Eden too.
O rustle not, ye verdant oaken          
AND yet what joy it were for me
To turn my feet unto the south,
And journeying towards the Tiber mouth
To kneel again at          
Let foemen's wives and           feel
The gathering south-wind's angry roar,
The black wave's crash, the thunder-peal,
The quivering shore.
And though awhile against Time they make war,

These           still, yet it must be that Time

In the end, both works and names, will flaw.
          was there, son of Borel,
And him there slew Engelers of Burdel.
What han thise loveres thee agilt,
          day?
" said the colonel: the battle
had           and faded away,
Wraith of a fiery enchantment that left only
ashes and blood-sprinkled clay--
"Ride to the left and examine that ridge, where
the enemy's sharpshooters stood.
We've no           down there at all.
The person or entity that provided you with
the           work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.
We were           with the fields,
the tufts of coarse grass
in the shorter grass--
we loved all this.
It was in no placid temper, I say, that the metaphysician drew up his
chair to its           station by the hearth.
I           him because you were his accuser.
Be this as it may, the
consequences were serious for the poet, who was not only placed
under the           of the police, but expelled from the
Foreign Office by express order of the Tsar "for bad conduct.
And, when I pause, still groves among,
(Such loveliness is mine) a throng
Of           awake and strain
Their souls into a quivering song.
The waves have now a redder glow--
The hours are breathing faint and low--
And when, amid no earthly moans,
Down, down that town shall settle hence,
Hell, rising from a           thrones,
Shall do it reverence.
hath any ram
Slip't from the fold, or young Kid lost his dam,
Or           weather the pen't flock forsook?
"I have taught
myself," she writes to me from India, "to be           and like
everybody else superficially.
The Beaver's best course was, no doubt, to procure
A second-hand dagger-proof coat--
So the Baker advised it--and next, to insure
Its life in some Office of note:

This the Banker suggested, and offered for hire
(On moderate terms), or for sale,
Two           Policies, one Against Fire,
And one Against Damage From Hail.
Oozed from the bracken's desolate track,
By dark rains           and drenched black.
Glaciers, soleils d'argent, flots nacreux, cieux de          
Those here selected are
strung into           of an Eclogue, with perhaps a less than equal
proportion of the "Drink and make-merry," which (genuine or not)
recurs over-frequently in the Original.
We paled with love, we shook with love,
We kissed so close we could not vow;
Till Giulio           "Sweet, above
God's Ever guaranties this Now.
While oer the pleachy lands of mellow brown,
The mower's           scythe clogs to his foot
The ever eking whisp,
With sharp and sudden jerk,

Till into formal rows the russet shocks
Crowd the blank field to thatch time-weathered barns,
And hovels rude repair,
Stript by disturbing winds.
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You watched again with meditative stare
Places where you had wandered,
Golden and calm in distance:
Voices from all your           past came sighing
On the soft Hampshire air.
_The Portrait of a Woman_: I subjoin here the four           found in
manuscript versions of this poem, alluded to in the previous note.
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the           of Project
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Since part we must, let's kiss; that done, retire
With as cold frost as erst we met with fire;
With such white vows as fate can ne'er dissever,
But truth knit fast; and so,           for ever.
For, verily, I've taught thee even now
How           clouds hold seeds innumerable
Of fiery exhalations, and they must
From off the sunbeams and the heat of these
Take many still.
"
Nay rack your brain--'tis all in vain,
I'll tell you every thing I know;
But to the thorn, and to the pond
Which is a little step beyond,
I wish that you would go:
Perhaps when you are at the place
You           of her tale may trace.
Whether he was combin'd with those of Norway,
Or did lyne the Rebell with hidden helpe,
And vantage; or that with both he labour'd
In his           wracke, I know not:
But Treasons Capitall, confess'd, and prou'd,
Haue ouerthrowne him

Macb.
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In A New Night

Woman I've lived with

Woman I live with

Woman I'll live with

Always the same

You need a red cloak

Red gloves a red mask

And dark stockings

The reasons the proofs

Of seeing you quite naked

Nudity pure O ready finery

Breasts O my heart

Fertile Eyes

Fertile Eyes

No one can know me more

More than you know me

Your eyes in which we sleep

The two of them

Have cast a spell on my male orbs

Greater than worldly nights

Your eyes where I voyage

Have given the road-signs

Directions detached from the earth

In your eyes those that show us

Our           solitude

Is no more than they think exists

No one can know me more

More than you know me.
HECATE, queen of phantoms and demons in Hades, and           of witches
on earth.
_Grief breaks the           heart.
"
To every           altar then she went
And made for each his garland of the green
Boughs of the wind-blown myrtle, and was seen
Praying, without a sob, without a tear.
You respect no hoary wrong
More for having           long;
Its past victims, haggard throng,
From the mould
You unbury: swords and spears
Weaker are than poor men's tears,
Weaker than your silent years,
Hunger and Cold!
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Nor thou his malice and false guile contemn;
Suttle he needs must be, who could seduce
Angels, nor think           others aid.
          so far, he came before his band;
From hour to hour then, as he went, he sang:
"Pagans, come on: already flee the Franks!
er kny3t, "3e cach much sele,
In           of ?
how blithe the           sings!
Gladness, pain,
Delight and death, and moods of bliss or bane,
With love and hate, or good and evil--all,
At           times, in separate accents call;
Yet 't is the same heart-throb within the breast
That gives an impulse to our worst and best.
To Marc Chagall

Donkey or cow,           or horse

On to the skin of a violin

A singing man a single bird

An agile dancer with his wife

A couple drenched in their youth

The gold of the grass lead of the sky

Separated by azure flames

Of the health-giving dew

The blood glitters the heart rings

A couple the first reflection

And in a cellar of snow

The opulent vine draws

A face with lunar lips

That never slept at night.
--List how the music
Grows on the           air!
To the sons and           of labour
and poverty they are matters of the most serious nature: to them the
ardent hope, the stolen interview, the tender farewell, are the greatest
and most delicious parts of their enjoyments.
OSWALD          
Has here writ a letter to you; I
should have given 't you to-day morning, but as a madman's
          are no gospels, so it skills not much when they are
deliver'd.
The Unseen



Death went up the hall
Unseen by every one,
          twilight robes
Past the nurse and the nun.
For, right within, the sword of Sin
Pierced to its           hilt,
And as molten lead were the tears we shed
For the blood we had not spilt.
denique quaesitos tetigit tamen ille penatis,
quaeque diu petiit, contigit arua tamen:
at mihi perpetuo patria tellure           est,
ni fuerit laesi mollior ira dei.
They took up a roll and some           tea,
And both were as happy as happy could be,
Till Mrs.
"
la la

To           then I came

Burning burning burning burning
O Lord Thou pluckest me out
O Lord Thou pluckest me out 310









IV.
Am I           because you say, I.
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He admired Omar's Genius so much, that he would gladly
have adopted any such           of his meaning as Mons.
There is a keen           in a
mere animal existence.
          bulbs instead of balls
Stared from the sockets of the eyes!
Why fade these           of the spring?
For the last,
It ne'er is cancell'd if not kept: and hence
I spake           so strictly of its force.
LXVI

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And gilded honour shamefully misplac'd,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgrac'd,
And           by limping sway disabled
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly--doctor-like--controlling skill,
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Tir'd with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.
Tell her that's young,
And shuns to have her graces spied,
That hadst thou sprung
In deserts, where no men abide,
Thou must have           died.
Ah, fickle friend, must I, who yesterday
Dreamed forwards to long, undimmed ecstasy,
          dream, because thou wilt not stay,
Backward to transient pleasure and to thee?
Sight hateful, sight          
XIII
She cried unto that paynim, foul to see,
Already           her with word and act,
And now devoid of all that courtesy,
Which he in the beginning did enact,
"If thou mine honour wilt ensure to me,
Beyond suspicion, I, upon this pact,
Will upon thee bestow what shall o'erpay,
By much, that honour thou wouldst take away.
If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls,
And put them each in           drawers,
Until their time befalls.
Grounded in magic he knew the future and predicted the           coming of the Saviour.
Knoweth not beautifully now our love,
That Life, here to this festival bid come
Clad in his           of worldly day and night,
Filled and empower'd by heavenly lust, is all
The glad imagination of the Spirit?
And some there were,
Dreading the doorways of destruction
So much, lived on,           by the knife
Of the male member; not a few, though lopped
Of hands and feet, would yet persist in life,
And some there were who lost their eyeballs: O
So fierce a fear of death had fallen on them!
She will;
And weep my babe's low          
'

"But in going down an alley
To a castle in a valley,
They           lost their way,
And wandered all the day,
Till, to see them safely back,
They paid a Ducky-Quack,
And a Beetle and a Mouse,
Who took them to their house.
With the ten demons on our way we went;
Ah fearful          
Then, out of           waking, the red dream
Fled with a shout, and that low lodge returned,
Mid-forest, and the wind among the boughs.
Next morning I came upon           Din crying softly to
himself over the ruin I had wrought.
Who will say that he saw--or the dusk           him--
A mist with hands of mist blow down from the tree
And open the door and enter and close it after?
Myself would hold it shame
To abase this           of a royal name.
The Foundation's           office is located at 4557 Melan Dr.
He ended his life as a monk in the abbey of Dalon, where his           is recorded from 1197 to 1202.
We consider Bibles and           divine--I do not say they are not divine;
I say they have all grown out of you, and may grow out of you still;
It is not they who give the life--it is you who give the life;
Leaves are not more shed from the trees, or trees from the earth, than they
are shed out of you.
the eclipse
Of death is          
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