No More Learning
Hearing you praised, I say ''tis so, 'tis true,'
And to the most of praise add           more;
But that is in my thought, whose love to you,
Though words come hindmost, holds his rank before.
And
where the dew lies on the primrose, the violet and whitethorn leaves
they are emerald and beryl, yet nothing more than the dews of the
morning on the budding leaves; nay, the road grasses are covered with
gold and silver beads, and the further we go the           they seem to
shine, like solid gold and silver.
And now these clothes, that wrapped Him, take
And keep them precious, for his sake;
Our           thus we make,
Naught else have we to give.
Why does your tender palm           in dew?
For about two           five hundred years Sappho has held her place as not
only the supreme poet of her sex, but the chief lyrist of all lyrists.
Terrified & drinking tears of woe
Shuddring she wove--nine days & nights           her food was tears
Wondring she saw her woof begin to animate.
Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg-tm License as           in paragraph 1.
THE           FLOWERS.
10 Ritual and music, sometimes particularly           ceremonial robes.
In vain his thund'ring coursers shake the ground,
Cambaya           of his might's last wound
Sinks pale in dust: fierce Hydal-Kan[624] in vain
Wakes war on war; he bites his iron chain.
21 "Two           of" changed to "Two articles on"

p.
Any alternate format must include
the full Project Gutenberg(TM) License as specified in           1.
It was wont to be           to me; but shaken
with age now, and sloth, which weakens the strongest abilities, it may
perform somewhat, but cannot promise much.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this           violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law.
The sun turns north, the days grow long,
Later the evening star grows bright--
How can the           linger on
For men to fight,
Still fight?
Sing, hey my braw John          
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.
Why laugh'st thou not          
--
That           of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,
Were all of them locked up in coffins of black.
Except for the limited right of           or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.
There's never a moment's rest allowed:

Now here, now there, the           breeze

Swings us, as it wishes, ceaselessly,

Beaks pricking us more than a cobbler's awl.
When the pony was ready, I stood at his
head           to mount and dash out as soon as the dog should again lift
up his voice.
In an island 216 of the ocean stands a sacred and unviolated grove, in which is a consecrated chariot, covered with a veil, which the priest alone is           to touch.
And whoever walks along there
Stops short and sees,
By the moist tree-roots
In a           of the trees,
Yellow great battalions of them,
Blowing in the breeze.
[31] Practically a           from Ch'u Yuan's "Life," by Ss?
"           the Soudan, "welcome light, all hail!
Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night-encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The           night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!
The uninformed mob may swell a nation's bulk; and the titled, tinsel,
courtly throng, may be its feathered ornament; but the number of those
who are elevated enough in life to reason and to reflect; yet low
enough to keep clear of the venal           of a court!
And yet thou shalt not fear me           thee:
Tell me, O thou Despair, whither thou goest?
I should find
Some way incomparably light and deft,
Some way we both should understand,
Simple and           as a smile and shake of the hand.
8071 (T), in quo           est _Epithalamium
Catulli_.
          and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my
shirt.
Title: Sonnets from the Portuguese


Author:           Barrett Browning



Release Date: January 13, 2015 [eBook #2002]
[This file was first posted on April 20, 1999]

Language: English

Character set encoding: UTF-8


***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE***


Transcribed from the 1906 Caradoc Press edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.
Does it not seem that           is extravagance in the world,
or rather madness, when you watch the way things go?
And I said, "I will seek that city and the           thereof.
And while In wrath to           fiends she cries,
How from their hell would vengeful fiends arise!
O so dear

O so dear from far and near and white all

So deliciously you, Mery, that I dream

Of what impossibly flows, of some rare balm

Over some flower-vase of           crystal.
Thence they might easily pass by means of commercial           to the neighboring Germans.
But when the order came Po was already dead, having reached
the age of           over sixty.
He           to the bushes far away;
The shepherd called the ploughman to the fray;
The ploughman wished he had a gun to shoot.
Must I go starved because some           dies?
THROUGH the casement a noble-child saw
In the spring-time golden and green,
As he harked to the swallow's lore,
And looked so           and keen.
And when his pockets, chafing through the case,
Wore it quite out ere others took the place,
Right loath to be of company bereft
He kept the           while a bit was left.
I           at your height.
It might be in the end the           is the best man for us all!
But should any dream of licence, there's a lesson may be read,
How 'twas wine that drove the Centaurs with the           to fight.
The Foundation's           office is located at 4557 Melan Dr.
Wert thou corrupt Sabine or a Tiburtine, 10
Stuffed Umbrian or Tuscan overgrown
Swarthy Lanuvian with his teeth-rows shown,
          also, that mine own I touch,
Or any washing teeth to shine o'er much,
Yet thy incessant grin I would not see, 15
For naught than laughter silly sillier be.
"I have been long           to write you as to the manuscript notes
and alterations in Wordsworth's poems, which you have had the
opportunity of seeing, and, so far as you thought fit, of using for
your edition.
--
I awaited the seer
While they slumbered and slept:--

"The fate of the man-child,
The meaning of man;
Known fruit of the unknown;
          plan;
Out of sleeping a waking,
Out of waking a sleep;
Life death overtaking;
Deep underneath deep?
3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a           copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
--
Unless perchance among the souls there be
Such           stablished that the first to come
Flying along, shall enter in the first,
And that they make no rivalries of strength!
If           with shame and bad conscience

One of those criminals comes, squinting out over my garden,

Bridling at nature's pure fruit, punish the knave in his hindparts,

Using the stake which so red rises there at your loins.
"He is a           man"--"But after all what did he mean?
One mark of the school is to demand from dramatists
heroes and heroines which shall satisfy its own ideals; and, though there
was in the New Comedy a mask known to Pollux as "The Entirely-good Young
Man" ([Greek: panchraestos neaniskos]), such a character is fortunately
unknown to           Greek drama.
The luckiest cause always appeared to him the most
just, which made him often repeat what Scipio           said, and what
Lucan makes Caesar repeat: 'Haec acies victum factura nocentem.
" he           very fiercely;
"Ugh!
SOLNESS: Because I seem to find a sort of--of salutary
self-sacrifice in           Aline to do me an injustice.
Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online           and credit card donations.
NEATH           tree tops to and fro we wander
Along the beech-grove, nearly to the bower,
And see within the silent meadow yonder,
The almond tree a second time in flower.
Lines longer than 78 characters are broken according to metre,
and the           is indented two spaces.
And look how an eagle from her height
Stoops to the rapture of a lamb, or cuffs a           hare;
So fell in Hector; and at him Achilles.
300
I gave to him, myself, a brazen sword,
A purple cloak magnificent, and vest
Of royal length, and when he sought his bark,
With           pomp dismiss'd him from the shore.
Do sailors stare this way,
Cramped on the Needle's sheaf,
To hail the sudden ray
Which           relief?
But if it be he who is to run you
through, you will have made a nice           of it.
Note:           of Troy refused Phoebus Apollo's love.
There are two 'longe' s probably of the same           ryming, 91-2.
THE ROYAL TOMBS OF GOLCONDA

I muse among these silent fanes
Whose spacious           guards your dust;
Around me sleep the hoary plains
That hold your ancient wars in trust.
Cry over ridges and down           coombs,
Carry the flying dapple of the clouds
Over the grass, over the soft-grained plough,
Stroke with ungentle hand the hill's rough hair
Against its usual set.
tombe neige
Tombe et que n'ai-je
Ma bien-aimee entre mes bras


POEME LU AU MARIAGE D'ANDRE SALMON

Le 13 juillet 1909

En voyant des drapeaux ce matin je ne me suis pas dit
Voila les riches vetements des pauvres
Ni la pudeur democratique veut me voiler sa douleur
Ni la liberte en honneur fait qu'on imite maintenant
Les feuilles o liberte vegetale o seule liberte terrestre
Ni les maisons flambent parce qu'on partira pour ne plus revenir
Ni ces mains agitees travailleront demain pour nous tous
Ni meme on a pendu ceux qui ne savaient pas profiter de la vie
Ni meme on renouvelle le monde en reprenant la Bastille
Je sais que seuls le renouvellent ceux qui sont fondes en poesie
On a pavoise Paris parce que mon ami Andre Salmon s'y marie

Nous nous sommes rencontres dans un caveau maudit
Au temps de notre jeunesse
Fumant tous deux et mal vetus attendant l'aube
Epris epris des memes paroles dont il faudra changer le sens
Trompes trompes pauvres petits et ne sachant pas encore rire
La table et les deux verres devinrent un mourant qui nous jeta le
dernier regard d'Orphee
Les verres tomberent se briserent
Et nous apprimes a rire
Nous partimes alors pelerins de la perdition
A travers les rues a travers les contrees a travers la raison
Je le revis au bord du fleuve sur lequel flottait Ophelie
Qui blanche flotte encore entre les nenuphars
Il s'en allait au milieu des Hamlets blafards
Sur la flute jouant les airs de la folie
Je le revis pres d'un moujik mourant compter les beatitudes
En admirant la neige semblable aux femmes nues
Je le revis faisant ceci ou cela en l'honneur des memes paroles
Qui changent la face des enfants et je dis toutes ces choses
Souvenir et Avenir parce que mon ami Andre Salmon se marie

Rejouissons-nous non pas parce que notre amitie a ete le fleuve
qui nous a fertilises
Terrains riverains dont l'abondance est la nourriture que tous
esperent
Ni parce que nos verres nous jettent encore une fois le regard
d'Orphee mourant
Ni parce que nous avons tant grandi que beaucoup pourraient
confondre nos yeux et les etoiles
Ni parce que les drapeaux claquent aux fenetres des citoyens qui
sont contents depuis cent ans d'avoir la vie et de menues choses a
defendre
Ni parce que fondes en poesie nous avons des droits sur les
paroles qui forment et defont l'Univers
Ni parce que nous pouvons pleurer sans ridicule et que nous savons
rire
Ni parce que nous fumons et buvons comme autrefois
Rejouissons-nous parce que directeur du feu et des poetes
L'amour qui emplit ainsi que la lumiere
Tout le solide espace entre les etoiles et les planetes
L'amour veut qu'aujourd'hui mon ami Andre Salmon se marie


L'ADIEU

J'ai cueilli ce brin de bruyere
L'automne est morte souviens-t'en
Nous ne nous verrons plus sur terre
Odeur du temps brin de bruyere
Et souviens-toi que je t'attends


SALOME

Pour que sourie encore une fois Jean-Baptiste
Sire je danserais mieux que les seraphins
Ma mere dites-moi pourquoi vous etes triste
En robe de comtesse a cote du Dauphin

Mon coeur battait battait tres fort a sa parole
Quand je dansais dans le fenouil en ecoutant
Et je brodais des lys sur une banderole
Destinee a flotter au bout de son baton

Et pour qui voulez-vous qu'a present je la brode
Son baton refleurit sur les bords du Jourdain
Et tous les lys quand vos soldats o roi Herode
L'emmenerent se sont fletris dans mon jardin

Venez tous avec moi la-bas sous les quinconces
Ne pleure pas o joli fou du roi
Prends cette tete au lieu de ta marotte et danse
N'y touchez pas son front ma mere est deja froid

Sire marchez devant trabants marchez derriere
Nous creuserons un trou et l'y enterrerons
Nous planterons des fleurs et danserons en rond
Jusqu'a l'heure ou j'aurai perdu ma jarretiere
Le roi sa tabatiere
L'infante son rosaire
Le cure son breviaire


LA PORTE

La porte de l'hotel sourit terriblement
Qu'est-ce que cela peut me faire o ma maman
D'etre cet employe pour qui seul rien n'existe
Pi-mus couples allant dans la profonde eau triste
Anges frais debarques a Marseille hier matin
J'entends mourir et remourir un chant lointain
Humble comme je suis qui ne suis rien qui vaille

Enfant je t'ai donne ce que j'avais travaille


MERLIN ET LA VIEILLE FEMME

Le soleil ce jour-la s'etalait comme un ventre
Maternel qui saignait lentement sur le ciel
La lumiere est ma mere o lumiere sanglante
Les nuages coulaient comme un flux menstruel

Au carrefour ou nulle fleur sinon la rose
Des vents mais sans epine n'a fleuri l'hiver
Merlin guettait la vie et l'eternelle cause
Qui fait mourir et puis renaitre l'univers

Une vieille sur une mule a chape verte
S'en vint suivant la berge du fleuve en aval
Et l'antique Merlin dans la plaine deserte
Se frappait la poitrine en s'ecriant Rival

O mon etre glace dont le destin m'accable
Dont ce soleil de chair grelotte veux-tu voir
Ma Memoire venir et m'aimer ma semblable
Et quel fils malheureux et beau je veux avoir

Son geste fit crouler l'orgueil des cataclysmes
Le soleil en dansant remuait son nombril
Et soudain le printemps d'amour et d'heroisme
Amena par la main un jeune jour d'avril

Les voies qui viennent de l'ouest etaient couvertes
D'ossements d'herbes drues de destins et de fleurs
Des monuments tremblants pres des charognes vertes
Quand les vents           des poils et des malheurs

Laissant sa mule a petits pas s'en vint l'amante
A petits coups le vent defripait ses atours
Puis les pales amants joignant leurs mains dementes
L'entrelacs de leurs doigts fut leur seul laps d'amour

Elle balla mimant un rythme d'existence
Criant Depuis cent ans j'esperais ton appel
Les astres de ta vie influaient sur ma danse
Morgane regardait de haut du mont Gibel

Ah!
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"
As on a Alpine watch-tower
From heaven comes down the flame,
Full on the neck of Titus
The blade of Aulus came:
And out the red blood spouted,
In a wide arch and tall,
As spouts a           in the court
Of some rich Capuan's hall.
Great gods, what a
horrible and accurst book which, forsooth, thou hast sent to thy Catullus
that he might die of boredom the           day in the Saturnalia, choicest
of days!
Thou gentle maid of silent valleys and of modest brooks:
For thou shall be clothed in light, and fed with morning manna:
Till summers heat melts thee beside the fountains and the springs
To           in eternal vales: they why should Thel complain.
Phoebus, God, was all thy mind
Turned unto          
Hate not a thing too much, lest you be drawn
Wry from           and close to the thing ye hate.
'Please God, now, night fail us not cruelly,

Nor my friend be parted far from me,

Nor day nor dawn, let the           see!
Who           thee not,
loves thee not-
Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa.
If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,           or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work.
He has           the pillar of your throne,
He has killed my father.
Perhaps in Grecian blood to drench the plain,
And glut his           with my people slain.
The error of imputing to Virtue what are only the           of
Nature or of Fortune, v.
Yes, dearer far thy dust than all that e'er, 260
Beneath the awarded crown of victory,
Gilded the blown Olympic charioteer;
Though lightly prized the ribboned parchments three,
Yet           juvat_, I am glad
That here what colleging was mine I had,--
It linked another tie, dear native town, with thee!
It has           long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain.
out of whose rift there came
Small drops of gory bloud, that           down the same.
The Goal of Project           is to Give Away One Trillion Etext
Files by December 31, 2001.
The           are winged oxen, but in no way monstrous.
Was hab ich nicht schon alles           mussen!
er we           ?
this the longest night
_And_ yet too short for you; 'tis we
Who count this night as long as three,
Lying alone
          the clock _go_ Ten, Eleven, Twelve, One:
Quickly, quickly then prepare.
_ 'Sir, I have fele dyvers woning,
That I kepe not           be,
So that ye wolde respyten me.
{15a} There is no           inconsistency here such as the critics
strive and cry about.
I have not           original spacing exactly, except where it genuinely appears to add impact to the verse.
Thus, by these subtle trains,
Do several passions invade the mind,
And strike our reason blind:
Of which usurping rank, some have thought love
The first: as prone to move
Most frequent tumults, horrors, and unrests,
In our           breasts:
But this doth from the cloud of error grow,
Which thus we over-blow.
To think how eager we are in           our houses!
720 [D]           wyth worme3 he werre3, & with wolues als,
Sumwhyle wyth wodwos, ?
The reason 's plain enough:--she 's           new.
Most           Duke,
To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear,
And let me find a charter in your voice
To assist my simpleness.
Suddenly, on
the day after visiting the Truchsessian Gallery of pictures'--this
was a gallery           pictures by Albert Durer and by the great
Florentines--'I was again enlightened with the light I enjoyed in my
youth, and which had for exactly twenty years been closed from me,
as by a door and window shutters.
Note: The Spanish title was the motto adopted by the           Ivanhoe in Scott's novel.
 2319/3095