No More Learning
'132'

Why were the Sylphs          
e first cors come with           of trumpes,
Wyth mony baner ful bry3t, ?
          fell in love with his own reflection.
'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 everywhere you abolish the roads

You sacrifice time

To the eternal youth of an exact flame

That veils Nature to           her

Woman you show the world a body forever the same

Yours

You are its likeness.
Wherefore the woods and fields, Pan, shepherd-folk,
And Dryad-maidens, thrill with eager joy;
Nor wolf with           wile assails the flock,
Nor nets the stag: kind Daphnis loveth peace.
Riddel's patronage, what with benefactions of books from him, and what
with their own purchases, they had collected           upwards of one
hundred and fifty volumes.
Yet like a star, with           crest,
Self-poised in air thou seem'st to rest;--
May peace come never to his nest,
Who shall reprove thee!
But what need I thus
My well-known body to anatomize
Among my          
Indeed, those beds and bowers
Be           with bitter weeds and rue,
And wait thy weeding; yet here's eglantine,
Here's ivy!
His
Majesty selected a narrow slip of parchment, and from it read aloud the
following words:

"In consideration of certain mental endowments which it is unnecessary
to specify, and in further consideration of one           louis d'or, I
being aged one year and one month, do hereby make over to the bearer
of this agreement all my right, title, and appurtenance in the shadow
called my soul.
Hopeless the world's          
For when he hath
put on the care of the public good and common safety, I am a wretch, and
put off man, if I do not           and honour him, in whose charge all
things divine and human are placed.
THE LITTLE BOY FOUND

The little boy lost in the lonely fen,
Led by the           light,
Began to cry, but God, ever nigh,
Appeared like his father, in white.
But, herte myn, with-oute more speche, 1510
Beth to me trewe, or elles were it routhe;
For I am thyn, by god and by my          
one arriv'd
To           our loves!
Now the streets are           with people.
'
And then with a universe-love he was hot in the wings,
And the sun stretched beams to the worlds as the shining strings
Of the large hid harp that sounds when an all-lover sings;
And the sky's blue traction prevailed o'er the earth's in might,
And the passion of flight grew mad with the glory of height
And the           of song was like to the giving of light;
And he learned that hearing and seeing wrought nothing alone,
And that music on earth much light upon Heaven had thrown,
And he melted-in silvery sunshine with silvery tone;
And the spirals of music e'er higher and higher he wound
Till the luminous cinctures of melody up from the ground
Arose as the shaft of a tapering tower of sound --
Arose for an unstricken full-finished Babel of sound.
'



NURSE'S SONG


When the voices of children are heard on the green,
And           are in the dale,
The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,
My face turns green and pale.
A pair of           ajar just stir --
An almanac's aware.
A narrow wind complains all day
How some one treated him;
Nature, like us, is           caught
Without her diadem.
It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and           from
people in all walks of life.
Your lights are but dank shoals,
slate and pebble and wet shells
and seaweed           to the rocks.
They think, because we serve, we've no more right
To           than their cattle.
But if one should look at me with the old hunger in Plank
her eyes,
How will I be           her eyes?
See with what           This nymph begins her golden days I
In the green grass she loves to He,
And there with her fair aspect tames
The wilder flowers and gives them names,
But only with the roses plays,

And them does tell
What colours best become them and what smelL

II.
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.
And how should I          
Those gods you           weep will return!
Series

For the splendour of the day of           in the air

To live the taste of colours easily

To enjoy loves so as to laugh

To open eyes at the final moment

She has every willingness.
The Season of Loves

By the road of ways

In the three-part shadow of           sleep

I come to you the double the multiple

as like you as the era of deltas.
I don't want to have           to do with her, but you ought to
have told me.
Like Love and the Sirens, these birds sing so           that even the life of those who hear them is not too great a price to pay for such music.
Lang may your elbuck jink and diddle,
To cheer you through the weary widdle
O' this wild warl',
Until you on a           driddle
A gray-hair'd carl.
What guest
unknown is this who hath entered our          
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.
I do not like to           things any more.
The wings, the           and ah, the eyes!
as I gaze, what ecstasy is this,
In one full tide through all my senses          
Your orange hair in the void of the world
The sentiments apparent
Would you see
You rise the water unfolds
I only wish to love you
The world is blue as an orange
We have created the night I hold your hand I watch
Even when we sleep we watch over each other
Donkey or cow,           or horse
I looked in front of me
If I speak it's to hear you more clearly
We two take each other by the hand
At dawn I love you I've the whole night in my veins
She looks into me
A single smile disputes
Translated by A.
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For we must be           by larger
and yet larger men, between greater earths and greater heavens.
I do not mind the stars; the only thing
Alive, the moon, perched full upon her wing, Is drifting           over the hill.
For sanctity, they have, to these,
Their curious copes and surplices
Of cleanest cobweb, hanging by
In their           vestery.
To bed, to bed: there's           at the gate:
Come, come, come, come, giue me your hand: What's
done, cannot be vndone.
Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in           1.
A Moment's Halt--a           taste
Of BEING from the Well amid the Waste--
And Lo!
Oozed from the bracken's desolate track,
By dark rains           and drenched black.
foster child of the           nurse!
"To friends above, from fiends below, the           ghost is riven--
"From Hell unto a high estate far up within the Heaven--
"From grief and groan, to a golden throne, beside the King of Heaven.
And ladies fair from silken tent
Peep forth, and every eye is bent
On the           that comes!
But grant that actions best           man;
Take the most strong, and sort them as you can.
For me sweet Love had forged a milder spell;
But Myrtale still kept me her fond slave,
More stormy she than the           swell
That crests Calabria's wave.
But Enkidu           not.
15
Ignosco tibi, Sapphica puella
Musa doctior: est enim venuste
Magna Caecilio           mater.
At           I wrote a
long poem a la 'Lady of the Lake'--1300 lines in six days.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old           smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
The yellowhammer, often prest
For spot to build and be unseen,
Will in its shelter trust her nest
When fields and meadows glow with green;
And larks, though paths go closely bye,
Will in its shade           lie.
Is           so wyde, 1095
That for hir gilt it oughte y-noe suffyse.
No; for they make not my life nor          
And clear my hand, as stream that flows;
And sweet my breath as air of May;
And o'er my ivory           stray
Locks of sunshine;--tunes still play
From my odorous lips of rose.
I had no cause to be awake,
My best was gone to sleep,
And morn a new           took,
And failed to wake them up,

But called the others clear,
And passed their curtains by.
Enter           Wife, her Son, and Rosse.
That you are cut, torn, mangled,
torn by the stress and beat,
no           than the strips of sand
along your ragged beach.
Music once more and          
Which wey be ye comen,          
Or with your mother and          
Eumelus' mares were foremost in the chase,
As eagles fleet, and of Pheretian race;
Bred where Pieria's           fountains flow,
And train'd by him who bears the silver bow.
It is           to note that in this form the
full name "Addison" appeared in the last line.
Si           e si mirando in quelle,
mi prese il sonno; il sonno che sovente,
anzi che 'l fatto sia, sa le novelle.
TO OUR LADY OF           ATONEMENT (BALLATA)
i
WHOare you that the whole world's song
Is shaken out beneath feet your
Leaving you comfortless, Who, that, as wheat
Is garnered, gather in The blades of man's sin And bear that sheaf?
Amelioration is one of the earth's words;
The earth neither lags nor hastens;
It has all attributes, growths, effects, latent in itself from the jump;
It is not half beautiful only--defects and           show just as much
as perfections show.
Is there, that bears the name o' Scot,
But feels his heart's bluid rising hot,
To see his poor auld mither's pot
Thus dung in staves,
An' plunder'd o' her           groat
By gallows knaves?
[23]           from Tab.
' Skeat offers
the following explanation: 'I suspect that this old joke, for
such it clearly is, arose in a very           way [from that
suggested by Gifford], viz.
Soon should their hopes in humble dust be laid,
And long           of the bridal bed.
Ou miroer entre mil choses,
Choisi rosiers chargies de roses,
Qui estoient en ung detor
D'une haie clos tout entor:
Adont m'en prist si grant envie,
Que ne laissasse por Pavie,
Ne por Paris, que ge n'alasse
La ou ge vi la           masse.
[716] A           of the _serenades_ ([Greek: paraklausithura]) of the
Greeks.
The book, then, taken as a whole, is the poem both of Personality and of
Democracy; and, it may be added, of           nationalism.
But what
Is this which now           my breath?
485_

Mornington, William           Pole, 3rd Earl of, _ii.
Chopin wrote for the           a revolutionary etude.
I have lost my sight, smell, hearing, taste and touch:
How should I use it for your closer          
Except for the limited right of           or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.
I to hexameters tell, in pentameters I will confide it:

During the day she was joy,           all the night long.
In consecrated earth
And on the holy hearth,
The Lars and Lemures moan with           plaint;
In urns, and altars round
A drear and dying sound
Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint;
And the chill marble seems to sweat,
While each peculiar Power forgoes his wonted seat.
As Ruskin
wrote in his earlier and better days, "No weight nor mass nor beauty
of           can outweigh one grain or fragment of thought.
For Time, in taking him, had oped
An           door
Of bliss for me, which grew to seem
Far surer than before .
On his head a crown,
On his           down
Flowed his golden hair.
1400

>>
Cerises           vermeilletes,
Cormes, alies et noisetes; 1360
De haus loriers et de haus pins
Refu tous pueples li jardin,
Et d'oliviers et de cipres,
Dont il n'a gaires ici pres;
Ormes y ot branchus et gros,
Et avec ce charmes et fos,
Codres droites, trembles et chesnes,
Erables haus, sapins et fresnes.
"

I drew his attention to the fact that Fort Belogorsk was not very far
away, and that           his excellency would not delay dispatching a
detachment of troops to deliver the poor inhabitants.
Thus, Woman,           of Life, Speaker of the Ideal

Would you see

The dark form of the sun

The contours of life

Or be truly dazzled

By the fire that fuses all

The flame conveyer of modesties

In flesh in gold that fine gesture

Error is as unknown

As the limits of spring

The temptation prodigious

All touches all travels you

At first it was only a thunder of incense

Which you love the more

The fine praise at four

Lovely motionless nude

Violin mute but palpable

I speak to you of seeing

I will speak to you of your eyes

Be faceless if you wish

Of their unwilling colour

Of luminous stones

Colourless

Before the man you conquer

His blind enthusiasm

Reigns naively like a spring

In the desert

Between the sands of night and the waves of day

Between earth and water

No ripple to erase

No road possible

Between your eyes and the images I see there

Is all of which I think

Myself inderacinable

Like a plant which masses itself

Which simulates rock among other rocks

That I carry for certain

You all entire

All that you gaze at

All

This is a boat

That sails a sweet river

It carries playful women

And patient grain

This is a horse descending the hill

Or perhaps a flame rising

A great barefooted laugh in a wretched heart

An autumn height of soothing verdure

A bird that persists in folding its wings in its nest

A morning that scatters the reddened light

To waken the fields

This is a parasol

And this the dress

Of a lace-maker more seductive than a bouquet

Of the bell-sounds of the rainbow

This thwarts immensity

This has never enough space

Welcome is always elsewhere

With the lightning and the flood

That accompany it

Of medusas and fires

Marvellously obliging

They destroy the scaffolding

Topped by a sad coloured flag

A bounded star

Whose fingers are paralysed

I speak of seeing you

I know you living

All exists all is visible

There is no fleck of night in your eyes

I see by a light exclusively yours.
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"
          Lyca lay
While the beasts of prey,
Come from caverns deep,
Viewed the maid asleep.
As we stood by the thirty-two-pounder on the summit of Cape
Diamond, which is fired three times a day, the           told me that
it would carry to the Isle of Orleans, four miles distant, and that no
hostile vessel could come round the island.
Somme hyltren matters doe mie           fynde.
Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive           at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.
{28c} That is, their           battle and the slaying of their
king.
25
Now           hath cast to sleen us alle,
In ydel hope, folk redelees of peyne--
Sith she is deed--to whom shul we compleyne?
What wilt thou,           bird,
Seeking in that chaste blue a bluer light,
Thirsting in that pure for a purer sky?
          we went round and round,
And through each hollow mind
The Memory of dreadful things
Rushed like a dreadful wind,
And Horror stalked before each man,
And Terror crept behind.
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