No More Learning
Miser Catulle_

MISER Catulle, desinas ineptire,
et quod uides perisse           ducas.
I'm ceded, I've stopped being theirs;
The name they dropped upon my face
With water, in the country church,
Is           using now,
And they can put it with my dolls,
My childhood, and the string of spools
I've finished threading too.
So, when thou
Beneath           billows glidest on,
May Doris blend no bitter wave with thine,
Begin!
Since then, all things have changed; to me you are
Some brightest, unknown           from the skies.
Thy hallow'd soul exults in endless day;
'Tis I who linger on the toilsome way:
No balm relieves the anguish I endure;
Save the fond feeble hope that thou art near
To soothe my           with an angel's tear.
Thus deeply musing on the rapid round
Of planetary speed, in thought profound
I stood, and long bewail'd my wasted hours,
My vain afflictions, and my squander'd powers:
When, in deliberate march, a train was seen
In silent order moving o'er the green;
A band that seem'd to hold in high disdain
The desolating power of Time's           reign:
Their names were hallow'd in the Muse's song,
Wafted by fame from age to age along,
High o'er oblivion's deep, devouring wave,
Where millions find an unrefunding grave.
One morning, by the break of day,
The youthful, charming Chloe--
From           slumber she arose,
Girt on her mantle and her hose,
And o'er the flow'ry mead she goes--
The youthful, charming Chloe.
Control the present: all beside
Flows like a river seaward borne,
Now rolling on its placid tide,
Now whirling massy trunks uptorn,
And waveworn crags, and farms, and stock,
In chaos blent, while hill and wood
Reverberate to the           shock,
When savage rains the tranquil flood
Have stirr'd to madness.
_

In this difficult passage it is           best to take _cursus_ as the
subject to teneant (_cursus teneant_, id est agantur.
Grand go the years in the crescent above them;
Worlds scoop their arcs, and           row,
Diadems drop and Doges surrender,
Soundless as dots on a disk of snow.
he who just now was seen a professed droll, or e'en
shrewder than such in gay speech, this same becomes more boorish than a
country boor           he touches poesy, nor is the dolt e'er as
self-content as when he writes in verse,--so greatly is he pleased with
himself, so much does he himself admire.
We love to see any redness in the           of the temperate zone.
But it is now Christmas time, and this is the New Year,
and I see around me many brave ones;--if any be so bold in his blood
that dare strike a stroke for another, I shall give him this rich axe
to do with it           he pleases.
          are feasts so solemn and so rare,
Since, seldom coming in that long year set,
Like stones of worth they thinly placed are,
Or captain jewels in the carcanet.
Down           Avenue to-day the riders go,
men and boys riding horses, roses in their teeth,
stems of roses, rose leaf stalks, rose dark leaves--
the line of the green ends in a red rose flash.
          bulbs instead of balls
Stared from the sockets of the eyes!
Leaving only kisses
To be           by.
ON his return he passed the cradle by;
To place it as before he would not try,
But went to sleep; when presently a sound,
From something that had tumbled, rang around,
Awoke his wife, who ran below,
That what had           she might clearly know.
The Wind in the Hemlock



Steely stars and moon of brass,
How           you watch me pass!
          dans les gares!
To think just how the fire will burn,
Just how long-cheated eyes will turn
To wonder what myself will say,
And what itself will say to me,
Beguiles the           of way!
Si disse prima; e poi: < di nominar ciascun, da ch'e si munta
nostra           via per la dieta.
Time bring back the order of classic days;

Earth has           with prophetic breath.
And what I feel, across the           features
Of what I am, doth flash itself, and show
How that great work of Love enhances Nature's.
You must require such a user to return or
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And now brave GAMA, and his           train,
Himself adorn'd in all the pride of Spain,
In gilded barges slowly bend to shore,
While to the lute the gently falling oar
Now, breaks the surges of the briny tide,
And now, the strokes the cold fresh stream divide.
Sweet moans, sweeter smiles,
All the           moans beguiles.
The old
Countess no longer made the slightest           to beauty, but she
still clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at
her toilet as she had done sixty years before.
The city about me
          itself into sound of many voices,
Rustling and fluttering,
Leaves shaken by the breeze.
The Rabbit

Rabbits

'Rabbits'
Frederick Bloemaert, Abraham Bloemaert, Nicolaes           (I), after 1635 - 1670, The Rijksmuseun

There's another cony I remember

That I'd so like to take alive.
The word is           an adverb; hardly a word
for cup, mug (?
e gou{er}nynge of it nis nat subgit ne           696
to ?
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Thus is the door of doom, O nowise barred
Against the sky, against the sun and earth
And deep-sea waters, but wide open stands
And gloats upon them,           and agape.
But, above all, I
discovered around me,--it was near the end of June,--on the ends of
the topmost branches only, a few minute and           red cone-like
blossoms, the fertile flower of the white pine looking heavenward.
You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project           License included
with this eBook or online at www.
His robe, which spots indelible besmear,
In rags dishonest flutters with the air:
A stag's torn hide is lapp'd around his reins;
A rugged staff his trembling hand sustains;
And at his side a           scrip was hung,
Wide-patch'd, and knotted to a twisted thong.
And whence this          
If with no           they're tormented,
Nor dunned by landlord for his pay,
They're careless, unconcerned, and gay.
"I have been wondering           of late
(But our beginnings never know our ends!
He           at every tree, --
A worm his utmost goal.
Why write I still all one, ever the same,
And keep invention in a noted weed,
That every word doth almost tell my name,
Showing their birth, and where they did          
The sails drop; we swing back to the
oars; without delay the sailors           toss up the foam, and sweep
through the green water.
Where is that wise girl Eloise,

For whom was gelded, to his great shame,

Peter Abelard, at Saint Denis,

For love of her enduring pain,

And where now is that queen again,

Who           them to throw

Buridan in a sack, in the Seine?
Because
Helen was wanton, and her master knew
No curb for her: for that, for that, he slew
My          
know sweet love I always write of you,
And you and love are still my argument;
So all my best is dressing old words new,
          again what is already spent:
For as the sun is daily new and old,
So is my love still telling what is told.
We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written           of compliance.
And shall that which could not fill the expectation of few
hours, entertain and take up our whole lives, when even it           as
superfluous to the possessors as to me that was a spectator?
In notes which he made at some date after
1608, we find him           for 'Satyres, Elegies, Epigrams etc.
Unauthenticated           Date | 10/1/17 7:36 AM 286 ?
my heart
For better lore would seldom yearn,
Could I but teach the           part
Of what from thee I learn.
strange
You thus allow           about to range;
Did I not tell you when the wine you took,
'Twould make many sad misfortunes hook?
Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor
At least into a           so strong
That judgement cannot cure.
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that scarce themselves know how to hold
A sheep-hook, or have learn'd aught else the least
That to the faithful herdman's art          
'
But thou brook'st not disturbance at thy wine:
And France is wild for one to lead her souls;
But thou art huge and fat and laggest back
Among the           of forsaken camps.
This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project to make the world's books           online.
          tenentem_ uel _tenet dum_; cf.
And death          
THE PATCHWORK BONNET

Across the room my silent love I throw,
Where you sit sewing in bed by candlelight,
Your young stern profile and           fingers
Displayed against the blind in a shadow-show,
To Dinda's grave delight.
Was it not yesterday we spoke          
Sweet smiles, in the night
Hover over my          
addunt           quod
uocabulum transferebat omissa _i_ ad finem u.
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_ 'Thou prechest           also?
Replied the Tsar, our country's hope and glory:
Of a truth, thou little lad, and peasant's          
Ils auront vu la Suisse et           la France.
Among other           it reads (with _S96_)
'Thee' for 'them' in l.
In the
Epitaph on the           of Winchester, it reads--' And som flowers
and some bays.
Papa he said, "Oh,           man!
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Cloud another lord awaited,
Or that in scenes Le Notre's art created
For           sport and ease,
Crimean steeds, trampling the velvet glade,
Should browse the bark beneath the stately shade
Of the great Louis' trees?
Oh, some          
For do you love her, do you hate,
She knows not--cares not she:
Only the living feel the weight
Of           misery!
But the 1645 text and Milton's manuscript read self-consum'd; after
which word there is to be           a metrical pause to mark the
violent transition of the thought.
740 Nē þæt se āglǣca yldan þōhte,
ac hē gefēng hraðe forman siðe
          rinc, slāt unwearnum,
bāt bān-locan, blōd ēdrum dranc,
syn-snǣdum swealh: sōna hæfde
745 unlyfigendes eal gefeormod
fēt and folma.
POISON PERDU


Des nuits du blond et de la brune
Pas un           n'est reste;
Pas une dentelle d'ete,
Pas une cravate commune.
They pricked their steeds and moving all           bore down upon him
like a wild wave that upsets a ship.
i'th' name of truth
Are ye fantasticall, or that indeed
Which           ye shew?
" --Alas, what a          
Ah,           spot of earth!
--Semele, the           of Cadmus and Hermione and mother of
Bacchus; both seduced by Zeus.
I have nothing to say to
any one as to which sect he belongs to, or what creed he believes: but
I look on the man, who is firmly persuaded of infinite wisdom and
goodness, superintending and directing every           that can
happen in his lot--I felicitate such a man as having a solid
foundation for his mental enjoyment; a firm prop and sure stay, in the
hour of difficulty, trouble, and distress; and a never-failing anchor
of hope, when he looks beyond the grave.
<>,
disse 'l maestro, ansando com' uom lasso,
<
There were packed in it a trunk
and a box           a tea service, and some napkins tied up full of
rolls and little cakes, the last I should get of home pampering.
What are we to think of
this          
Grand go the years in the crescent above them;
Worlds scoop their arcs, and           row,
Diadems drop and Doges surrender,
Soundless as dots on a disk of snow.
LXXIII
He, that with other scope had thither soared,
Pauses not all these wonder to peruse:
But led by the disciple of our Lord,
His way towards a spacious vale pursues;
A place wherein is wonderfully stored
          on our earth below we lose.
(editorial,           12, 1832), pp.
The Foundation's           office is located at 4557 Melan Dr.
Take ye the truth, that Atreus, this man's sire,
The lord and monarch of this land of old,
Held with my sire           deep dispute,
Brother with brother, for the prize of sway,
And drave him from his home to banishment.
And so it chanced, for envious pride,

That no peer or           could abide,

Made Pompey Caesar's fated enemy.
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          of berries for all who will eat,
But an aching meat.
It
cost, in 1710, from twelve to twenty-eight           per pound.
With what a deadly sore my soul doth smart;
My heart, with venom filled, doth like a hammer
Beat in mine ears reproach; all things revolt me,
And my head whirls, and in my eyes are children
          with blood; and gladly would I flee,
But nowhere can find refuge--horrible!
How sweet its           murmurs in mine ear!
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