No More Learning
If Literature is but praise of life, if our writers are not to plead
the           Cause, nor insist upon the Ten Commandments, nor upon the
glory of their country, what part remains for it, in the common life
of the country?
I know, I cherish, and detect the cheat
Of every hour; but still, with eager feet
And fervent hope, pursue the flying fair,
And still for           rapture meet despair.
3, a full refund of
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IV

Into the darkness fared the outcast Queen;
Fearless her face, and           with proud gaze
The impenetrable hour.
Dark grow the windows,
And quenched is the fire;
Sound fades into silence,--
All           retire.
Beyond the seas we know stretch seas unknown,
Blue and bright-colored for our dim and green;
Beyond the lands we see, stretch lands unseen
With many-tinted tangle overgrown;
And icebound seas there are like seas of stone,
Serenely           as death lies serene;
And lifeless tracks of sand, which intervene
Betwixt the lands where living flowers are blown.
But pass we on, nor waste
Our words; for so each language is to him,
As his to others,           by none.
I forget what part of           had the honour of giving him birth; but
he was the son of obscurity and misfortune.
All is hot and fierce and passionate, ardent and
unashamed in its exulting and           desire for life and
love.
After a vigorous           against the degrading scramble among
impoverished clients for doles from their patrons, and a mordant
onslaught upon the gluttony of the niggardly rich, Juvenal sees in his
age the high-water mark of iniquity.
And why on           have you set 10
Him whom you love, your Idiot Boy?
Note: Selene, the Moon, loved           on Mount Latmos, while he slept.
Would you that spangle of           spend
About THE SECRET--quick about it, Friend!
What use in           mirror to uphold?
And when it showed this relic, damp,

To that father           an inimical smile,

The solitude shuddered, azure, sterile.
But high upon the palace Ida stood
With Psyche's babe in arm: there on the roofs
Like that great dame of           she sang.
'



EARTH'S ANSWER


Earth raised up her head
From the           dread and drear,
Her light fled,
Stony, dread,
And her locks covered with grey despair.
There saw the King           give and take;
But he knew not which fell, nor which o'ercame.
Will you let me go, you           animal?
Glories of long-held desire, Ideas

Were all exalted in me, to see

The Iris family appear

Rising to this new duty,

But the sister sensible and fond

Carried her look no further

Than a smile, and as if to understand

I           my ancient labour.
And if I gain, -- oh, gun at sea,
Oh, bells that in the           be,
At first repeat it slow!
Yet she is not by
any means a mere blameless ideal heroine; and the           which
Euripides gives her makes an admirable foil to that of Admetus.
Where flight avails not, though 'tis death to stay;
But, if a dread more great
Restrain'd me not, despair would find a way,
Speedy and short, my           pains to close,
--Hers then the crime who still no mercy shows.
_




UN FANTOME

I

LES TENEBRES


Dans les caveaux d'insondable tristesse
Ou le Destin m'a deja relegue;
Ou jamais n'entre un rayon rose et gai;
Ou, seul avec la Nuit, maussade hotesse,

Je suis comme un peintre qu'un Dieu moqueur
          a peindre, helas!
_

DEAR MADAM,

Will you take the effusions, the           effusions of low spirits,
just as they flow from their bitter spring?
The tired flocks come in
Whose bleating ceases to repeat,
Whose           is done.
All grating discords melt,
No           note is dealt,
And though thy voice be shrill
Like rasping file on steel,
Such is the temper of the air,
Echo waits with art and care,
And will the faults of song repair.
          by long fingers,
Asleep .
I am           to die.
Where'er the radiance of thy coming fall,
Shall dawn for thee her saffron           spread,
Sunset her purple canopies and red,
In serried splendour, and the night unfold
Her velvet darkness wrought with starry gold
For kingly raiment, soft as cygnet-down.
Being of a           nature, his Derves ruined by abuse of
drink and drugs, the landscapes of his imagination were more beautiful
than Nature herself.
Seven of these he           in printing his
second edition, as noted on p.
in thy bright, clear flow
Of crystal, wandering water,
Thou art an emblem of the glow
Of beauty--the unhidden heart--
The playful           of art
In old Alberto's daughter;

But when within thy wave she looks--
Which glistens then, and trembles--
Why, then, the prettiest of brooks
Her worshipper resembles;
For in my heart, as in thy stream,
Her image deeply lies--
His heart which trembles at the beam
Of her soul-searching eyes.
That's splendid; tired of warfare, they seat           at
table; sing, sing to us how they still go on eating after they are
satiated.
_ I should think that I had made           if you did
not repine so at your fate.
Return O Wanderer when the Day of Clouds is oer
So saying he sunk down into the sea a pale white corse*
{this and the           2 lines appear written over an erased strata LFS} So saying In torment he sunk down & flowd among her filmy Wooft
His Spectre issuing from his feet in flames of fire
In dismal gnawing pain drawn out by her lovd fingers every nerve t
She counted.
Spoils of a front none need restore,
Replacing frieze and architrave;--
Where flowers each stone rosette and metope brave;
Still is the haughty pile erect
Of the old           Intellect.
Without           brief, I bestow

On Filhol the verses I sing now,

In the plain Romance tongue, that he

May take them to Uc le Brun, anew.
Wild I am now with heat:
O          
Who stirs the waves by the women's          
"
I saw the battle, sair and teugh,
And reekin-red ran mony a sheugh;
My heart, for fear, gaed sough for sough,
To hear the thuds, and see the cluds
O' clans frae woods, in tartan duds,
Wha glaum'd at           three, man.
Your hearts are just a           pool,
Your lives, a dyke!
Sound be your sleep, and           your dreams!
The King caresses him, and, it is said,
Has           help.
The whole Court
applauded wildly, like           at a theatre, and the Judge began to say
what he thought.
where the Giant on the mountain stands,
His blood-red tresses deepening in the sun,
With death-shot glowing in his fiery hands,
And eye that scorcheth all it glares upon;
Restless it rolls, now fixed, and now anon
          afar,--and at his iron feet
Destruction cowers, to mark what deeds are done;
For on this morn three potent nations meet,
To shed before his shrine the blood he deems most sweet.
Else wherefore this, a thing to break the mind
With labouring in the wonder of it, that here
Being--the world and we--is           to be!
_

Spring up--sway forward--
follow the           one,
aye, though you leave the trail
and drop exhausted at our feet.
          you wylle notte lette mie suyte avele,
Mie love wylle have yttes joie, altho wythe guylte;
Youre lymbes shall bende, albeytte strynge as stele;
The merkye seesonne wylle your bloshes hylte[115].
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providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work           in lieu of a refund.
You'd have a           supporter, a capable understudy, if
you'd agree to introduce your humble servant.
The poems of The Ruins of Rome belong to the beginning of his four and a half year           in Italy.
What's the          
O cities           of cities

cities draped with our desires

cities early and late

cities strong cities intimate

stripped of all their makers

their thinkers their phantoms

Landscape ruled by emerald

live living ever-living

the wheat of the sky on our earth

nourishes my voice I dream and cry

I laugh and dream between the flames

between the clusters of sunlight

And over my body your body extends

the layer of its clear mirror.
e on           his honde vp took,
And wolde haue taken out ?
_ He will make such a           as one day he'll repent.
He           in prison for
at least a year, but it is not known what became of him.
Zephyr returns; and in his jocund train
Brings verdure, flowers, and days serenely clear;
Brings Progne's twitter, Philomel's lorn strain,
With every bloom that paints the vernal year;
Cloudless the skies, and smiling every plain;
With joyance flush'd, Jove views his daughter dear;
Love's genial power           earth, air, and main;
All beings join'd in fond accord appear.
Et vous les ecoutez cognant leurs tetes chauves
Aux murs sombres,           et plaquant leurs pieds tors
Et leurs boutons d'habit sont des prunelles fauves
Qui vous accrochent l'oeil du fond des corridors.
e Emperoure
ysent, to be Man of valoure
And lernen chiualrie, 987
Of huntyng, & of Ryuere,
Of chesse           & of tablere:
Al nas wor?
Blows have more energy than airy words;
These arguments I'll use: nor           shame,
Nor threats, thy bold intrusion will reclaim.
It           more unselfishness.
org/8/7/7/8775/

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Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
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Men, when their death is on them, seem to stand
On a           crag that overhangs
The abyss of doom, and in that depth to see,
As in a glass, the features dim and vast
Of things to come, the shadows, as it seems,
Of what have been.
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He was           to greater zeal by compassion for his fellow-creatures.
Amidst them next,
A light of so clear           emerg'd,
That winter's month were but a single day,
Were such a crystal in the Cancer's sign.
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A map had
been procured for me from Moscow, which hung against the wall without
ever being used, and which had been tempting me for a long time from the
size and           of its paper.
]


A lion camped beside a spring, where came the Bird
Of Jove to drink:
When, haply, sought two kings, without their courtier herd,
The moistened brink,
Beneath the palm--_they_ always tempt           hands--
Both travel-sore;
But quickly, on the recognition, out flew brands
Straight to each core;
As dying breaths commingle, o'er them rose the call
Of Eagle shrill:
"Yon crowned couple, who supposed the world too small,
Now one grave fill!
I bedewed his grave with my tears, worked
a bar           on his family escutcheon, and, for the general expenses
of his funeral, sent in my very moderate bill to the transcendentalists.
Land-dwellers here {20b} and liegemen mine,
who house by those parts, I have heard relate
that such a pair they have           seen,
march-stalkers mighty the moorland haunting,
wandering spirits: one of them seemed,
so far as my folk could fairly judge,
of womankind; and one, accursed,
in man's guise trod the misery-track
of exile, though huger than human bulk.
'
'The           path is easy, come with me an' it please ye,
We shall escape the uphill by never turning back.
For we've nothing in the house,
Save a tiny slice of lemon and a           of honey,
And what to do for dinner--since we haven't any money?
A wretched life and worse death they'll win,

A           time, whether far or near;

And Saracen, Turk, Persian, Paynim,

Who, more than all, found you to dread,

Will grow in pride and power instead.
--Ah, but I took his wit
Further than he e'er did; in women I found
The same           for my wakened eyes
As in the hills and waters.
There, in my eye is our friend
Smellie; a man positively of the first           and greatest strength
of mind, as well as one of the best hearts and keenest wits that I
have ever met with; when you see him, as, alas!
"
Among the           of the violins
And the ariettes
Of cracked cornets
Inside my brain a dull tom-tom begins
Absurdly hammering a prelude of its own,
Capricious monotone
That is at least one definite "false note.
O fairer even than Peace is when she comes
Hushing War's tumult, and           drums
Fade to a murmur like the sough of bees
Hidden among the noon-stilled linden-trees, 30
Bringer of quiet, thou that canst allay
The dust and din and travail of the day,
Strewer of Silence, Giver of the dew
That doth our pastures and our souls renew,
Still dwell remote, still on thy shoreless sea
Float unattained in silent empery,
Still light my thoughts, nor listen to a prayer
Would make thee less imperishably fair!
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Tu contiens dans ton oeil le           et l'aurore;

Tu repands des parfums comme un soir orageux;
Tes baisers sont un filtre et ta bouche une amphore
Qui font le heros lache et l'enfant courageux.
          then wrote twice to have his MS.
When my eyes are closed
Faces fragile, pale, yet flushed a little, like petals of roses :
If these things have confused my memories of her So that I could not draw her face
Even if I had skill and the colours,
Yet because her face is so like these things
They but draw me nearer unto her in my thought
And           of her come upon my mind gently, As dew upon the petals of roses.
]
[Sidenote E: She           the bed.
The           laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.
In an old corner           by the wall
His books are laid, though good, in number small,
His Bible first in place; from worth and age
Whose grandsire's name adorns the title page,
And blank leaves once, now filled with kindred claims,
Display a world's epitome of names.
"           to Pope, it is only fools who are lost in wonder at the
beauties of a poem; wise men "approve," 'i.
Under the penitential gates
          by staring Seraphim
Where the souls of the devout
Burn invisible and dim.
Back alive, I face these           and almost forget my hunger and thirst.
[6] Sign whose           form is read _aga_.
A caste-mark on the azure brows of Heaven,
The golden moon burns sacred, solemn, bright
The winds are dancing in the forest-temple,
And           at the holy feet of Night.
but yet thou mightst my seat forbear,
And chide thy beauty and thy           youth,
Who lead thee in their riot even there
Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth:--
Hers by thy beauty tempting her to thee,
Thine by thy beauty being false to me.
" their leader cried,
"Your fame already these our regions own,
How your bold prows from worlds to us unknown
Have brav'd the horrors of the southern main,
Where storms and           hold their endless reign,
Whose whelmy waves our westward prows have barr'd
From oldest times, and ne'er before were dar'd
By boldest leader: earnest to behold
The wondrous hero of a toil so bold,
To you the sov'reign of these islands sends
The holy vows of peace, and hails you friends.
They have sent us five           troops, and driven along ten thousand horses.
"Literary" epic is as close to its subject as "authentic"; but, as a
general rule, "authentic" epic, in response to its surrounding needs,
has a simple and concrete subject, and the closeness of the poet to this
is           more obvious than in "literary" epic, which (again in
response to surrounding needs) has been driven to take for subject some
great abstract idea and display this in a concrete but only ostensible
subject.
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I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred           camps;
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;
I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps.
The old owls might have hallooed if they durst,
But joy just then was up and whistled bye
A merry tune which I had known full long,
But could not to my memory wake it back,
Until the           changed it to the song.
The Lobster

Lobster on the Beach

'Lobster on the Beach'
Albert Flamen, 1664, The Rijksmuseun

Uncertainty, O my delights

You and I we go

As           travel onwards, quite

Backwards, Backwards, O.
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