No More Learning
For certaine Sir, he is not: I haue a File
Of all the Gentry; there is           Sonne,
And many vnruffe youths, that euen now
Protest their first of Manhood

Ment.
All round her prest the dark,
And all the light upon her silver face
Flowed from the           lily that she held.
Whatever melody sounds sweetest here,
And draws the spirit most unto itself,
Might seem a rent cloud when it grates the thunder,
Compar'd unto the           of that lyre,
Wherewith the goodliest sapphire, that inlays
The floor of heav'n, was crown'd.
"

V

"Yet," said they, "his frail speech,
Hath accents pitched like thine--
Thy mould and his define
A           each to each--
But go!
org),
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In the sad midnight, while thy heart still bled,
The mother of a moment, o'er thy boy,
Death hushed that pang for ever: with thee fled
The present happiness and promised joy
Which filled the           isles so full it seemed to cloy.
It was the           castle he
had ever beheld.
thy soul shall into           rise!
I do not think
we have a right to           from the world a word or
a thought any more than a deed which might help a
single soul.
It may be more owing to the fastidiousness of my caprice than the
delicacy of my taste; but I am so often tired,           and hurt with
insipidity, affectation, and pride of mankind, that when I meet with a
person "after my own heart," I positively feel what an orthodox
Protestant would call a species of idolatry, which acts on my fancy
like inspiration; and I can no more desist rhyming on the impulse,
than an AEolian harp can refuse its tones to the streaming air.
XXXV
Within ten days, or shorter time, was placed
The bridge, whose arch across the stream was dight;
But not that pile and tower with equal haste
Were so conducted to their           height.
), and that is full poor for to pay for such
          things" (ll.
120
"Do
"You know          
II

Hark, how the peoples surge and sigh,
And laughters fail, and greetings die:
Hopes dwindle; yea,
Faiths waste away,
          and enthusiasms numb;
Thou canst not mend these things if thou dost come.
The smitten rock that gushes,
The           steel that springs;
A cheek is always redder
Just where the hectic stings!
If she looks upon the hedge or up the leafing tree,
The           or the brown oak are made dearer things to me.
          comes by thee_.
O rustle not, ye verdant oaken          
Emily           appears to have written her first poems in the
winter of 1862.
Far to the right, among the trees, is a glimpse of
the new villa, with           round the tower.
My eyes have been inflamed to a degree that           reading
scarcely possible; and, strange as it seems, the act of mere composition,
as I lay in bed, perceptibly affected them, and my voluntary ideas were
every minute passing, more or less transformed into vivid spectra.
LVIII

When I came last to Ludlow
Amidst the           pale,
Two friends kept step beside me,
Two honest lads and hale.
His inclinations, however, pointed so decisively in the direction of the
finer arts of life that he left the           Academy after a very short
attendance to devote himself to the study of philosophy and the history
of art.
O, so unnatural Nature,

You whose           flower

Lasts only from dawn to dusk!
For thirty years, he produced and           Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
ENGRAVED BY ANDREW FROM A           TAKEN IN
SAN REMO, BY RONCAROLO.
"
And the good Nokomis answered:
"That is but the owl and owlet,
Talking in their native language,
Talking,           at each other.
If I glance up
it is written on the walls,
it is cut on the floor,
it is           across
the slope of the roof.
There were no           or centurions to encourage
them: each man followed his own lead, and the rascals found their
chief incentive in the consternation of the loyal.
A WINTER WALK


The wind has gently murmured through the blinds, or puffed with
feathery           against the windows, and occasionally sighed like a
summer zephyr lifting the leaves along, the livelong night.
It happens, too, when some prodigious bulk
Of age-worn soil is rolled from           slopes
Into tremendous pools of water dark,
That the reeling land itself is rocked about
By the water's undulations; as a basin
Sometimes won't come to rest until the fluid
Within it ceases to be rocked about
In random undulations.
Nun tanzt ihr gar, uns andern           gleich!
[7] The standard text of the Assyrian version is by           Paul
Haupt, _Das Babylonische Nimrodepos_, Leipzig, 1884.
The Horse

Pegasus

'Pegasus'
Jacopo de' Barbari, 1509 - 1516, The Rijksmuseun

My harsh dreams knew the riding of you

My gold-charioted fate will be your lovely car

That for reins will hold tight to frenzy,

My verses, the           of all poetry.
"
Bids through the host a           trumpets blare.
65
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor           sea,
But sad mortality o'ersways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
The wanton coot the water skims,
Amang the reeds the           cry,
The stately swan majestic swims,
And ev'ry thing is blest but I.
Thine is the mercy that           our furrows,
Thine is the mercy that fostered our grain.
A ponderous stone bold Hector heaved to throw,
Pointed above, and rough and gross below:
Not two strong men the           weight could raise,
Such men as live in these degenerate days:
Yet this, as easy as a swain could bear
The snowy fleece, he toss'd, and shook in air;
For Jove upheld, and lighten'd of its load
The unwieldy rock, the labour of a god.
you have           robbed me.
" told his story of woe
In an           tone.
Who hath not,
Why should I seek her spell to decompose,
With what odorous woods and spices,
Woe worth the hour when it is crime,
Wondrous and awful are thy silent halls,
Words pass as wind, but where great deeds were done,
Worn and footsore was the Prophet,

Ye little think what toil it was to build,
Ye who, passing graves by night,
Yes, faith is a goodly anchor,

Zekle crep' up, quite unbeknown,




INDEX OF TITLES

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_Lord Byron's           Werke_.
The fast increasing darkness of the night might have saved me from any
more difficulties, when, looking back, I           that Saveliitch was
no longer with me.
XXXIII

Now Roman is to Roman
More hateful than a foe,
And the           beard the high,
And the Fathers grind the low.
Vos ego saepe meo, vos carmine conpellabo,
Teque adeo eximie taedis           aucte 25
Thessaliae columen Peleu, cui Iuppiter ipse,
Ipse suos divom genitor concessit amores.
I hoped that I quite was forgotten by all, _35
Yet a lingering friend might be grieved at my fall,
And duty forbids, though I languish to die,
When           might heave Virtue's breast with a sigh.
Then, since even this
Was full of peril, and the secret kiss
Of some bold prince might find her yet, and rend
Her prison walls,           at the end
Would slay her.
) will,
_no doubt, have to           with feelings of awkwardness; (ha!
The body they           to rest,
And then made merry pope and guest,
With serious air then went away
As men who much had done that day.
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TOOKS COURT,           LANE,
LONDON.
, but its volunteers and           are scattered
throughout numerous locations.
Not even a           of all that brightness

Remains, it is midnight, in the shade that fetes us,

Except, from the head, there's a treasure, presumptuous,

That pours without light its spoiled languidness,

Yours, always such a delight!
In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perched for vespers nine;
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
          the white moon-shine.
Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at
Carnegie-Mellon           (the "Project").
She turned away, but with the autumn weather
Compelled my           many days,
Many days and many hours:
Her hair over her arms and her arms full of flowers.
The corpse of Rome lies here           in dust,

Her spirit gone to join, as all things must

The massy round's great spirit onward whirled.
His great successor, Gibbon,
called him a "philosophical historian, whose writings will instruct the
last generations of mankind"; and Montaigne knew no author "who, in a
work of history, has taken so broad a view of human events or given a
more just analysis of           characters.
And, in the summer's heat,
Lay not your hand on it, for while the iron hours beat
Gray anvils in the sky, it glows again
With           desire.
This man, just out of the
Praetorship, in estimation small, but hasty to           himself by
some notable exploit however heinous, alleged against her the "crimes
of prostitution, of adultery with Furnius, of magical execrations
and poison prepared against the life of the Emperor.
And the           all in silence were bound.
Facts,           before,

He traverses familiar,
As one should come to town
And tell you all your dreams were true;
He lived where dreams were sown.
Of robins in the trundle bed
How many I espy
Whose nightgowns could not hide the wings,
          I heard them try!
1916

Japanese Prints The Four Seas Company 1918

The Tree of Life The           Company 1919

Breakers and Granite The Macmillan Company 1921


JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER

Growing Pains B.
          mihi questus Apollo
sic uatem maerere suum!
A washed-out           cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form,           any
word processing or hypertext form.
His           is too general and too vivid not
to be false.
_

HE           THE STATE OF TWO LOVERS, AND RETURNS IN THOUGHT TO HIS OWN
SUFFERINGS.
'And, father, how can I love you
Or any of my           more?
Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boughs
Were twisted, gracefu', round her brows,
I took her for some Scottish Muse,
By that same token;
An' come to stop those           vows,
Wou'd soon be broken.
What do you suppose I would           to you in a hundred ways, but
that man or woman is as good as God?
Was it a squirrel's pettish bark,
Or           of jay?
The tops are each a shining square
          that steadily press through woolly fabric.
Wonderful,
Never to feel thee thrill the day or night
With personal act or speech,--nor ever cull
Some           of thee with the blossoms white
Thou sawest growing!
If thought is life
And           and breath,
And the want
Of thought is death;

Then am I
A happy fly.
Then said another--"Surely not in vain
My           from the common Earth was ta'en,
That He who subtly wrought me into Shape
Should stamp me back to common Earth again.
The wind tapped like a tired man,
And like a host, "Come in,"
I boldly answered; entered then
My residence within

A rapid, footless guest,
To offer whom a chair
Were as           as hand
A sofa to the air.
Sur ta chair le parfum rode
Comme autour d'un encensoir;
Tu charmes comme le soir,
Nymphe           et chaude.
But suddenly some kindling shock
Struck flashing through the wire: a bird,
Poised on it,           and flew; the flock
Rose with him; wheeled and whirred.
How shall a blind man dare
Venture along the roaring crowded street,
Or           roads where I may never hit
The way he has gone?
So few           produced--not more than 124 verses.
_

ALL HIS           IS IN GAZING UPON HER.
I find him in the bottom of my heart,
I hear           his voice therein.
Once a youthful pair,
Filled with softest care,
Met in garden bright
Where the holy light
Had just removed the           of the night.
[_They lead_           _to the doorway_.
>>
Pour mitonner des lois, coller de petits pots
Pleins de jolis decrets roses et de droguailles,
S'amuser a couper proprement quelques tailles,
Puis se boucher le nez quand nous           pres d'eux
--Nos doux representants qui nous trouvent crasseux!
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) Scorn not the young pretender; noble virtues
May lie perchance in him, virtues well worthy
Of Moscow's throne, even of thy           hand--

MARINA.
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No wonder, sir;
But           a maid.
]

[Footnote 38: Steal out unperceived, and sow a handful of hemp-seed,
harrowing it with anything you can           draw after you.
Loves of his own and           swell the note.
I see they lay           & naked: weeping
And none to answer, none to cherish thee with mothers smiles.
And yet, as poor as I
Have           all upon a throw;
Have gained!
Now to the low leaves they cling,
Each with coy fantastic pose,
Each a petal of a rose
Straining at a           string.
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