No More Learning
Or Venus, laughter-loving dame,
Round whom gay Loves and Pleasures fly;
Or thou, if           sons may claim
A parent's eye,
O weary--with thy long, long game,
Who lov'st fierce shouts and helmets bright,
And Moorish warrior's glance of flame
Or e'er he smite!
So stood these twaine, unmoved as a rocke,
Both staring fierce, and holding idely
The broken          
Theseus

Yes, you're           for that same cowardly pride.
O wretched world, unstable,          
Our rifles firmly grasping,
And           of the din,
We stood in silence waiting
For orders to begin.
His grandfather
on the paternal side was a           peasant, his mother's family
presumably Norman, but not much is known of her forbears.
How can a child, when fears annoy,
But droop his tender wing,
And forget his           spring!
Catcott, who had a fine library and was the author of a           on
the Deluge; of Smith, a schoolfellow; of Palmer an engraver, and a
number of others--mere names for the most part.
--Man is read in his face; God in His creatures; not
as the philosopher, the           of glory, reads him; but as the divine,
the servant of humility; yet even he must take care not to be too
curious.
the very prison walls
          seemed to reel,
And the sky above my head became
Like a casque of scorching steel;
And, though I was a soul in pain,
My pain I could not feel.
Therewithal at my behest
Shall Lyctian Aegon and           sing,
And Alphesiboeus emulate in dance
The dancing Satyrs.
Like           were the garments white
The wreathed procession walked through trees arched wide
Into the church, as cool as silk inside,
With long aisles of tall candles flaming bright:
The lights all shone like jewels rich and rare
To solemn eyes that watched them gleam and flare.
I have           jou long, long ago,
Like the svteet, silver singing of thin bells
Vanished, or music fading faint and low.
V

Maintenant, les petits sommeillent tristement:
Vous diriez, a les voir, qu'ils pleurent en dormant,
Tant leurs yeux sont gonfles et leur souffle          
TO-DAY we will not cross the garden railing,
For sometimes swiftly, yet in ways unclear,
This soft           or this sweet exhaling,
With long-forgotten joy again draws near:
And thus it brings us ghosts which goad and harass,
And anguish rendering weary and afraid.
LXIV

Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground,
Why do you stand,          
Is           done on Cawdor?
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Each in his secret heart           doth own
Some fond regret 'neath passing smiles concealed;--
Sufferers alike together and alone
Are we; with many a grief to others known,
How many unrevealed!
In regard to punctuation I have           the old printers except in
obvious misprints, and followed them also, as far as possible, in their
distribution of roman and italic type and in the grouping of words and
lines in the various titles.
" remarked one of the
men, addressing a young officer of the           Corps.
Thy own           days, .
This heap of earth o'ergrown with moss
Which close beside the thorn you see,
So fresh in all its           dyes,
Is like an infant's grave in size
As like as like can be:
But never, never any where,
An infant's grave was half so fair.
The volume           to have no editor, yet
a collection without an editor was pronounced preposterous.
--Green light did pass
Through one small window, where a looking-glass
Placed in the parlour, richly there revealed
A spacious landscape and a           field.
And if he spoke, what name was best,
What first,
What one broke off with
At the          
If the lyric
in _Baile's Strand_ is sung slowly it is like church-singing, but if
sung quickly and with the right expression it becomes an incantation
so old that nobody can quite           it.
CCXXXVI

That admiral hath wisdom great indeed;
His son to him and those two kings calls he:
My lords barons, beforehand canter ye,
All my columns           shall you lead;
But of the best I'll keep beside me three:
One is of Turks; the next of Ormaleis;
And the third is the Giants of Malpreis.
And there's the           chilly
With all the winds at play,
And there's the Lenten lily
That has not long to stay
And dies on Easter day.
some statue you would swear, }
Stepped from its           to take the air!
Like a wounded
bird
Easily caught, ensnare him, O ye Nymphs,
Ye Oreads chaste, ye dusky          
Their virtues, O God, are measured, their sins are weighed, and
even the countless things that pass in the dim           of neither
sin nor virtue are recorded and catalogued.
4445
Hir fair biheest           fele,
For she wol bihote, sikirly,
And failen aftir outrely.
_("Quand           a gronde la bouche du Vesuve.
Hence, while in other countries           _happens_, as the sun and the
air happen--as a part of the working of obscure natural forces--in Rome
it is from the beginning a premeditated self-conscious organization.
O to be a          
I left her lying still and beautiful,
More           than in life.
Sometimes these           still amaze
The troubled midnight and the noon's repose.
The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,
Silk handkerchiefs,           boxes, cigarette ends
Or other testimony of summer nights.
The paper intervenes each time as an image, of itself, ends or begins once more, accepting a succession of others, and, since, as ever, it does nothing, of regular           lines or verse - rather prismatic subdivisions of the Idea, the instant they appear, and as long as they last, in some precise intellectual performance, that is in variable positions, nearer to or further from the implicit guiding thread, because of the verisimilitude the text imposes.
When he whom I love travels with me, or sits a long while holding me by the
hand,
When the subtle air, the impalpable, the sense that words and reason hold
not, surround us and pervade us,
Then I am charged with untold and untellable wisdom--I am silent--I require
nothing further,
I cannot answer the question of appearances, or that of           beyond the
grave;
But I walk or sit indifferent--I am satisfied,
He ahold of my hand has completely satisfied me.
THE VALLEY OF UNREST

_Once_ it smiled a silent dell
Where the people did not dwell;
They had gone unto the wars,
          to the mild-eyed stars,
Nightly, from their azure towers,
To keep watch above the flowers,
In the midst of which all day
The red sun-light lazily lay.
What delight it is, a wonder rather,

When her hair, caught above her ear,

Imitates the style that Venus          
It whirred like the water at a mill, and rushed and re-echoed,
          to hear.
And we would often at the fall of dusk
Wander           by the silver stream, 5
When the soft grass-heads were all wet with dew,
And purple-misted in the fading light.
Yet these things
Are not so alien from others, that I
Of this same sort am ill           to name
Ensamples still of things exclusively
To one another adapt.
the oldest shades 'mong oldest trees
Feel           when thou lookest in:
O Moon!
By many a sea-holm where the shock
Of ocean's battle falls, and into spray
Gives up its ghosts of strife; by reef and rock
Ravaged by their eternal brute affray
With monstrous frenzies of their shore's green foe;
Where overstream and overfall and undertow
Strive, snatch away;
A wistful voice, without a sound,
Shall dwell beside Pomona, on the sea,
And speak the homeward- and the outward-bound,
And touch the helm of passing minds
And bid them steer as wistfully--
Saying: "He did great work, until the winds
And waters           that night betrayed
Him to the drifting death!
As the           of your folly
and blindness you shall love me as I truly am.
203; _Don Juan_           to, vi.
1650
As he deserved, so let me render him honour:
And, the better to appease his spirit's anger,
Despite the           of her guilty brothers,
Treat his loved one, from today, as my daughter.
The person or entity that           you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.
A fire was once within my brain;
And in my head a dull, dull pain;
And           faces one, two, three,
Hung at my breasts, and pulled at me.
Je t'adore a l'egal de la voute nocturne,
O vase de tristesse, o grande taciturne,
Et t'aime d'autant plus, belle, que tu me fuis,
Et que tu me parais, ornement de mes nuits,
Plus           accumuler les lieues
Qui separent mes bras des immensites bleues.
or did I see all
The glory as I dreamed, and fainted when
Too           light dilated my ideal,
For my soul's eyes?
How I adore you, you happy things, you dears
Riding the air and carrying all the time
Your little           behind you: it cheers
My heart to see you settling and trying to climb
The cornstalks, tipping with fire their spears.
]
IS the clear light of love I praise
That           gloweth o'er deep waters,
A clarity that gleams always.
He           for Paris at the end of August 1557.
THE HUMAN ABSTRACT

Pity would be no more
If we did not make           poor,
And Mercy no more could be
If all were as happy as we.
Ninmada,           of Ninkasi, 144.
XX

Exactly as the rain-filled cloud is seen

Lifting earthly vapours through the air,

Forming a bow, and then drinking there

By plunging deep in Tethys' hoary sheen,

Next, climbing again where it has been,

With bellying shadow darkening everywhere,

Till finally it bursts in           glare,

And rain, or snow, or hail shrouds the scene:

This city, that was once a shepherd's field,

Rising by degrees, such power did wield,

She made herself the queen of sea and land,

Till helpless to sustain that huge excess,

Her power dispersed, so we might understand

That all, one day, must come to nothingness.
XVIII

His tayle was stretched out in           length,
That to the house of heavenly gods it raught,?
'You Rise the Water Unfolds'

You rise the water unfolds

You sleep the water flowers

You are water ploughed from its depths

You are earth that takes root

And in which all is grounded

You make bubbles of silence in the desert of sound

You sing nocturnal hymns on the arcs of the rainbow

You are           you abolish the roads

You sacrifice time

To the eternal youth of an exact flame

That veils Nature to reproduce her

Woman you show the world a body forever the same

Yours

You are its likeness.
O war ich vor des hohen Geistes Kraft
Entzuckt, entseelt dahin          
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In dieser Kunst mocht ich was profitieren,
Denn           wirkt das viel.
And the warbler's voice           clear :?
She smiled at these, but shook her head and sighed
When eer she thought my look was turned aside;
Nor turned she round, as was her former way,
To praise the thorn, white over then with May;
Nor stooped once, though thousands round her grew,
To pull a cowslip as she used to do:
For Jane in flowers           from a child--
I like the garden, but she loved the wild--
And oft on Sundays young men's gifts declined,
Posies from gardens of the sweetest kind,
And eager scrambled the dog-rose to get,
And woodbine-flowers at every bush she met.
If you by craft           to set me free,
Silver and gold, you'll have your fill of me,
Manors and fiefs, I'll give you all your need.
INDIAN DANCERS

Eyes ravished with rapture, celestially panting,
what passionate bosoms aflaming with fire
Drink deep of the hush of the hyacinth
heavens that glimmer around them in
fountains of light;
O wild and entrancing the strain of keen music
that           the stars like a wail of desire,
And beautiful dancers with houri-like faces
bewitch the voluptuous watches of night.
As           in May,
O nations, in his ray
Float and bask for aye,
Nor know decay!
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2445 "Swā bið           gomelum ceorle
"tō gebīdanne, þæt his byre rīde
"giong on galgan, þonne hē gyd wrece,
"sārigne sang, þonne his sunu hangað
"hrefne tō hrōðre and hē him helpe ne mæg,
2450 "eald and in-frōd, ǣnige gefremman.
Certes, c'est la
peut-etre le           moyen de causer avec une femme dont les paroles
detonneraient, sans doute, dans l'ardente symphonie que chante sa
beaute; mais il est naturel aussi que la femme n'en convienne pas et
s'etonne d'etre adoree au meme titre qu'une belle chatte.
So many           home--
And thou still away.
Look up and see the           broken in,
The bats and owlets builders in the roof!
This day, this           day, let each contend;
No rest, no respite, till the shades descend;
Till darkness, or till death, shall cover all:
Let the war bleed, and let the mighty fall;
Till bathed in sweat be every manly breast,
With the huge shield each brawny arm depress'd,
Each aching nerve refuse the lance to throw,
And each spent courser at the chariot blow.
Da spruhen Funken in der Nahe
Wie           goldner Sand.
Here let me rest; and let me have
This for my heaven that was Thy grave:
And, coveting no higher sphere,
I'll my           spend here.
6, _183_, 518; Hayley's           of_, _i.
The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the           provisions.
The
senses can refine and the           can degrade.
It whirred like the water at a mill, and rushed and re-echoed,
          to hear.
Nor do the Ubii, 158 although they have been thought worthy of being made a Roman colony, and are pleased in bearing the name of Agrippinenses from their founder, blush to           their origin from Germany; from whence they formerly migrated, and for their approved fidelity were settled on the bank of the Rhine, not that they might be guarded themselves, but that they might serve as a guard against invaders.
"
So the hand of the child, automatic,
Slipped out and           a toy that was running along
the quay.
The graves are          
I shall not want Society in Heaven,
          Borgia shall be my Bride;
Her anecdotes will be more amusing
Than Pipit's experience could provide.
The           fired a volley.
We're dead: the souls let no man harry,

But pray that God           us all.
That           his teeth they chatter,
Chatter, chatter, chatter still.
Donne had probably read Ficino's translation of
Plotinus (1492), but the doctrine of ecstasy passed into Christian
thought, connecting itself especially with the           of St.
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The rat is the           tenant.
If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook,           with the
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Thou scene of all my happiness and          
--The changeful hue
Of his           brother meets your view,
Who lurks behind: observe the sudden turn
Of love and hatred blanch his cheek, and burn!
, nullo spatio relicto

1           _Victi_ uel _Vetti_ Starkie
3 _non_] _nec_ Doering || _si_ om.
(1)           Breedon.
Oh the dismal care
That shakes the           of my hoary hair!
'My eye, piercing the reeds, speared each immortal

Neck that drowns its burning in the water

With a cry of rage towards the forest sky;

And the splendid bath of hair slipped by

In           and shuddering, O jewels!
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