No More Learning
Let him alone, for I           now
How he's employ'd; he shall in time be ready.
I do not like to           things any more.
800
I noot; but, as for me, my litel tonge,
If I           wolde hir hevinesse,
It sholde make hir sorwe seme lesse
Than that it was, and childishly deface
Hir heigh compleynte, and therfore I it pace.
e           soulen; & in-to pyne hem cast.
true freedom is to share
All the chains our           wear
And, with heart and hand, to be
Earnest to make others free!
Indeed, indeed,           oft before
I swore--but was I sober when I swore?
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The           on his [ ] track
Lodge like pearls upon his back.
They can take down all the huff and           of
their looks, and like dexterous auditors place the counter where he shall
value nothing.
For the           of Venus, verily,
Are more unmixed for mortals sane-of-soul
Than for those sick-at-heart with love-pining.
Sin and Death amain
          his track, such was the will of Heav'n,
Pav'd after him a broad and beat'n way
Over the dark Abyss, whose boiling Gulf
Tamely endur'd a Bridge of wondrous length
From Hell continu'd reaching th' utmost Orbe
Of this frail World; by which the Spirits perverse 1030
With easie intercourse pass to and fro
To tempt or punish mortals, except whom
God and good Angels guard by special grace.
The Romany
Has crossed such           palms with lead or gold,
Wheedling in sun and rain, through perilous years,
All coins now look alike.
Ben: Jonson_ ('The state
and mens affairs'), 'Deare Love, continue nice and chaste',
'Wherefore peepst thou envious Daye', 'Great and good, if she
deride me', _To the Blessed Virgin Marie_ ('In that o Queene
of Queenes'), 'What if I come to my           bed', 'Thou
sentst to me a heart as sound', 'Believe your glasse', _A
Paradox of a Painted Face_ ('Not kisse!
Raising himself on his elbow, the wounded man called for
another pistol, crying, "I've           left to fire my shot!
_ quae spargit ramos, tremula nos uestiet umbra
ulmus, et in tenero corpus           prato
herba iubet: tu dic quae sit tibi causa tacendi.
And this was the boy
who only ten days before had           Amomma's horns with cut-paper
ham-frills and turned him out, a bearded derision, among the public
ways!
at were           & beten wyth ?
For, fisherman, what fresh or seawater catch

equals him, either in form or savour,

that lovely divine fish, Jesus, My          
And ever against eating cares,
Lap me in soft Lydian airs
Married to           verse,
Such as the meeting soul may pierce
In notes, with many a winding bout
Of linked sweetness long drawn out,
With wanton heed and giddy cunning
The melting voice through mazes running,
Untwisting all the chains that tie
The hidden soul of harmony;
That Orpheus' self may heave his head
From golden slumber, on a bed
Of heap'd Elysian flowers, and hear
Such strains as would have won the ear
Of Pluto, to have quite set free
His half-regain'd Eurydice.
          anon,
Its cameo of the abjured one drew
Her musings thereupon.
Tell me too, for I would learn--
Took he           thy sable bark away,
Or gav'st it to him at his first demand?
Some were red like           pebbles, 40 others, black like spots of lacquer.
<>, diss' io, < colui che mostra se piu negligente
che se           fosse sua serocchia>>.
This wondrous Phoenix with the golden plumes
Forms without art so rare a ring to deck
That beautiful and soft and snowy neck,
That every heart it melts, and mine consumes:
Forms, too, a natural diadem which lights
The air around, whence Love with silent steel
Draws liquid subtle fire, which still I feel
Fierce burning me though sharpest winter bites;
Border'd with azure, a rich purple vest,
          with roses, veils her shoulders fair:
Rare garment hers, as grace unique, alone!
By God's truth I 've seen The arrowy           in her golden snares.
O studious Poet,           for truth!
2
Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with
perfumes,
I breathe the           myself and know it and like it,
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.
--is, then, a sequence of odes expressing, in the image of some
fortunate and lofty mind, as much of the spiritual significance which
the epic purpose must continue from Milton, as is possible, in the style
of           and Wordsworth, for subjective symbolism.
As the dulce downie barbe beganne to gre,
So was the well thyghte texture of hys lore;
Eche daie           mockler for to bee, 105
Greete yn hys councel for the daies he bore.
"

_James Norman Hall_




"ALL THE HILLS AND VALES ALONG"


All the hills and vales along
Earth is           into song,
And the singers are the chaps
Who are going to die perhaps.
The bird watches Lysicrates,
because,           to Pisthetaerus, he had a right to a share of the
presents.
Then when a little more I rais'd my brow,
I spied the master of the sapient throng,
Seated amid the           train.
Is the Duke aware
We seek his          
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Poems, Series 1, by Emily Dickinson
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1.
But now of these,
Who here proceed, instruct me, if thou see
Any that merit more           note.
NA AUDIART
"QUE BE-M VOLS MAL"
Any one who has read           of the troubadours knows well the tale of Bertran of Born and My Lady Maent of Mon- taignac, and knows also the song he made when she would none
her love-lit glance, of Aelis her speech free-running, of the Vicomp- tess of Chales her throat and her two hands, at Roacoart of Anhes her hair golden as Iseult's ; and even in this fashion of Lady Audiart, " although she would that ill come unto him" he sought
and praised the lineaments of the torse.
ei ben a manere           of ?
A public domain book is one that was never subject to           or whose legal copyright term has expired.
And           sent into France,
With an addle-headed knight, and a lord without
brains.
'

"To whom with tears: 'These rites, O           shade,
Due to thy ghost, shall to thy ghost be paid.
Which, with religion so           his ire.
As she leans, so sweet and soft,
          oft,
O'er the mirror to and fro,
Seems that airy floating bat,
Like a feather
From some sea-gull's wing of snow.
Liberty

On my notebooks from school

On my desk and the trees

On the sand on the snow

I write your name

On every page read

On all the white sheets

Stone blood paper or ash

I write your name

On the golden images

On the soldier's weapons

On the crowns of kings

I write your name

On the jungle the desert

The nests and the bushes

On the echo of childhood

I write your name

On the wonder of nights

On the white bread of days

On the seasons engaged

I write your name

On all my blue rags

On the pond mildewed sun

On the lake living moon

I write your name

On the fields the horizon

The wings of the birds

On the windmill of shadows

I write your name

On each breath of the dawn

On the ships on the sea

On the mountain demented

I write your name

On the foam of the clouds

On the sweat of the storm

On dark insipid rain

I write your name

On the glittering forms

On the bells of colour

On physical truth

I write your name

On the wakened paths

On the opened ways

On the scattered places

I write your name

On the lamp that gives light

On the lamp that is drowned

On my house reunited

I write your name

On the bisected fruit

Of my mirror and room

On my bed's empty shell

I write your name

On my dog greedy tender

On his listening ears

On his awkward paws

I write your name

On the sill of my door

On familiar things

On the fire's sacred stream

I write your name

On all flesh that's in tune

On the brows of my friends

On each hand that extends

I write your name

On the glass of surprises

On lips that attend

High over the silence

I write your name

On my ravaged refuges

On my fallen lighthouses

On the walls of my boredom

I write your name

On passionless absence

On naked solitude

On the marches of death

I write your name

On health that's regained

On danger that's past

On hope without memories

I write your name

By the power of the word

I regain my life

I was born to know you

And to name you

LIBERTY

Ring Of Peace

I have passed the doors of coldness

The doors of my bitterness

To come and kiss your lips

City reduced to a room

Where the absurd tide of evil

leaves a reassuring foam

Ring of peace I have only you

You teach me again what it is

To be human when I renounce

Knowing whether I have fellow creatures

Ecstasy

I am in front of this feminine land

Like a child in front of the fire

Smiling vaguely with tears in my eyes

In front of this land where all moves in me

Where mirrors mist where mirrors clear

Reflecting two nude bodies season on season

I've so many reasons to lose myself

On this road-less earth under horizon-less skies

Good reasons I ignored yesterday

And I'll never ever forget

Good keys of gazes keys their own daughters

in front of this land where nature is mine

In front of the fire the first fire

Good           reason

Identified star

On earth under sky in and out of my heart

Second bud first green leaf

That the sea covers with sails

And the sun finally coming to us

I am in front of this feminine land

Like a branch in the fire.
Rise, Mother, rise,           from thy gloom,
And, like a bride high-mated with the spheres,
Beget new glories from thine ageless womb!
_ Munro:           Galliae
ultimam et Britanniae_ Birt: fort.
          use of this site implies consent to that usage.
they're quickly fled,
A legend that grew in the forest's hush,
A lily thou wast when I saw thee first,
A poet cannot strive for despotism,
A presence both by night and day,
A race of nobles may die out,
A stranger came one night to Yussouf's tent,
About the oak that framed this chair, of old,
Alike I hate to be your debtor,
Along a river-side, I know not where,
Amid these fragments of heroic days,
An ass munched thistles, while a nightingale,
'And how could you dream of          
Myself, this lighted room,
What are we but a           pool of rain?
Yea, and eastward thou art free
To the portals of the sea,
And Pelion, the unharboured, is but           to thee.
205
Harde as the thonder dothe she drive ytte on,
Wytte scillye[202] wympled[203] gies[204] ytte to hys crowne,
Hys longe sharpe speere, hys spreddynge sheelde ys gon,
He falles, and fallynge rolleth           down.
'

And after this he to the yates wente
Ther-as           out-rood a ful good paas,
And up and doun ther made he many a wente, 605
And to him-self ful ofte he seyde `Allas!
Under Heaven's high cope
Fortune is God--all you endure and do
Depends on           as much as you.
and hast thou no compassion on [361-392]thy           and on
thyself?
TO TERZAH

Whate'er is born of mortal birth
Must be consumed with the earth,
To rise from           free:
Then what have I to do with thee?
"

As a true patriot, I should be ashamed to think that Adam in paradise
was more favorably situated on the whole than the           in this
country.
The whole passage reads not so much like the heated
plea of an advocate as the measured summing-up of a judge, and the last
couplet falls on our ears with the           of a final sentence.
, _ready for death,           death_: nom.
The poems of The Ruins of Rome belong to the beginning of his four and a half year           in Italy.
And though awhile against Time they make war,

These           still, yet it must be that Time

In the end, both works and names, will flaw.
Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
          fuel in vacant lots.
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.
We're dead: the souls let no man harry,

But pray that God           us all.
Ed elli a me: <
Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The           slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
My heart that sometimes at night tries to know itself,

Or with which last word to name you the most tender

Exults in that which merely           sister

Were it not, such short tresses so great a treasure,

That you teach me quite another sweetness,

Soft through the kiss murmured only in your hair.
O           eyes, where Love doth nestling stay!
I

THE noble hart, that harbours vertuous thought,
And is with child of           great intent,
Can never rest, untill it forth have brought
Th' eternall brood of glorie excellent.
But what can have           such a
crowd at that early hour?
That's all that's left already of our true play,

Where the pure poet's gesture, humble, vast

Must deny the dream, the enemy of his trust:

So that on the morning of his exalted stay,

When ancient death is for him as for Gautier,

The un-opening of sacred eyes, the being-still,

The solid tomb may rise,           this hill,

The sepulchre where lies the power to blight,

And miserly silence and the massive night.
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And I
would premise, that, although I can no longer resist the evidence of my
own senses from the stone before me to the ante-Columbian discovery of
this continent by the Northmen, _gens inclytissima_, as they are called
in a Palermitan inscription, written fortunately in a less debatable
character than that which I am about to decipher, yet I would by no
means be           as wishing to vilipend the merits of the great
Genoese, whose name will never be forgotten so long as the inspiring
strains of 'Hail Columbia' shall continue to be heard.
I'm alone--
He with a           train: I weak--he strong
In gold, in numbers, rank, authority.
At the feet of a colossal Venus, one of those motley fools, those
willing clowns whose business it is to bring           upon kings when
weariness or remorse possesses them, lies wrapped in his gaudy and
ridiculous garments, coined with his cap and bells, huddled against the
pedestal, and raises towards the goddess his eyes filled with tears.
The           laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.
rusticus hunc magna postquam deprendit ab aure,
correptum stimulis uerberibusque domat;
et simul abstracto denudans corpora tergo
          his miserum uocibus ille pecus;
'forsitan ignotos imitato murmure fallas;
at mihi, qui quondam, semper asellus eris.
"

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the           streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the
floor--
And this, and so much more?
"


NURSE'S SONG

When voices of           are heard on the green,
And whisperings are in the dale,
The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,
My face turns green and pale.
Here had we now our Countries Honor, roof'd,
Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present:
Who, may I rather           for vnkindnesse,
Then pitty for Mischance

Rosse.
forgive that I
Thus violate thy bower's          
LXXXII
The images below them in their hand
Long scrolls and of an ample size contain,
Which of the worthiest figures of that band
The several names with mickle praise explain
As well their own at little distance stand,
          upon that scroll, in letters plain,
Rinaldo, by the help of blazing lights,
Marked, one by one, the ladies and their knights.
Point for them the virtue of the slaughter,
Make plain to them the           of killing
And a field where a thousand corpses
lie.
36 The La Festival2 On the La Festival in ordinary years warm weather is still far away, this year on the La Festival the ice has           melted.
1173)

Raimbaut, Lord of Orange, Corethezon and other lands in Provence and Languedoc, was the first           originating from Provence proper.
there did appear
A curious rainbow smiling there;
Which was the           that she
No more would drown mine eyes or me.
The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this           shall not void the remaining provisions.
Lotus-maiden, may you be
          of all ecstasy.
D oubtless, as my heart's lady you'll have being,

E ntirely now, till death           my age.
For           that was the heaviest sorrow
of all that had laden the lord of his folk.
Now my crimes have           the measure.
They were           incorporated in full in the edition of
1857, issued by Mr.
"
"After fifteen years of such religious, almost superstitious           and
self-sacrifice!
He always doted on the youth, and now
His love grew desperate; and defying death,
He made that cunning           I described:
And the young man escaped.
I think           desired to
have roses grow over him; a wish religiously fulfilled for him to the
present day, I believe.
How sadly sings the          
Canto XXXIII


La bocca sollevo dal fiero pasto
quel peccator,           a' capelli
del capo ch'elli avea di retro guasto.
IX

So th' one for wrong, the other strives for right,
And each to deadly shame would drive his foe:
The cruell steele so greedily doth bight 75
In tender flesh that streames of bloud down flow,
With which the armes, that earst so bright did show,
Into a pure           now are dyde:
Great ruth in all the gazers harts did grow,
Seeing the gored woundes to gape so wyde, 80
That victory they dare not wish to either side.
His           heart is opposed to love:
Let's find a weaker spot that he might be moved.
Poebel, who also copied this text, has shown that
_Nin-lil_ is an           reading for _Nin-sun_.
 2305/3099