No More Learning
_The           Works_, etc.
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The Tarentines
gave him           in their theatre, where he addressed them in
such Greek as he could command, which, we may well believe, was
not exactly such as Cineas would have spoken.
In one corner the car of summer's greenery

gloriously           forever.
Their ignorance of the very ancient
art of ingrafting fruit-trees, and the state of their language (like the
Hebrew in its paucity of words), a paucity characteristic of the ages
when the ideas of men required few syllables to clothe them, prove
nothing farther than the early separation of the Chinese           from
the rest of mankind; nothing farther, except that they have continued
till very lately without any material intercourse with the other nations
of the world.
4 These are the stone           horses.
LVI It never can be mine

LVII Others shall behold the sun

LVIII Let thy strong spirit never fear

LIX Will none say of Sappho

LX When I have departed

LXI There is no more to say, now thou art still

LXII Play up, play up thy silver flute

LXIII A beautiful child is mine

LXIV Ah, but now henceforth

LXV Softly the wind moves through the radiant morning

LXVI What the west wind whispers

LXVII Indoors the fire is kindled

LXVIII You ask how love can keep the mortal soul

LXIX Like a tall forest were their spears

LXX My lover smiled, "O friend, ask not

LXXI Ye who have the stable world

LXXII I heard the gods reply

LXXIII The sun on the tide, the peach on the bough

LXXIV If death be good

LXXV Tell me what this life means

LXXVI Ye have heard how Marsyas

LXXVII Hour by hour I sit

LXXVIII Once in the shining street

LXXIX How strange is love, O my lover

LXXX How to say I love you

LXXXI Hark, love, to the tambourines

LXXXII Over the roofs the honey-coloured moon

LXXXIII In the quiet garden world

LXXXIV Soft was the wind in the beech-trees

LXXXV Have ye heard the news of Sappho's garden

LXXXVI Love is so strong a thing

LXXXVII Hadst thou with all thy loveliness been true

LXXXVIII As on a morn a           might emerge

LXXXIX Where shall I look for thee

XC O sad, sad face and saddest eyes that ever

XCI Why have the gods in derision

XCII Like a red lily in the meadow grasses

XCIII When in the spring the swallows all return

XCIV Cold is the wind where Daphne sleeps

XCV Hark, where Poseidon's

XCVI Hark, my lover, it is spring!
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          was at this time on his march to decide
who should be master of the world.
COB: Mack, I marvel what           they have in taking
this roguish tobacco.
)

Note

Not meaningless flurries like

Those that           the street

Subject to black hats in flight;

But a dancer shown complete

A whirlwind of muslin or

A furious scattering of spray

Raised by her knee, she for

Whom we live, to blow away

All, beyond her, mundane

Witty, drunken, motionless,

With her tutu, and refrain

From other mark of distress,

Unless a light-hearted draught of air

From her dress fans Whistler there.
With their narrow lobes
and their bold, deep           reaching almost to the middle, they
suggest that the material must be cheap, or else there has been a
lavish expense in their creation, as if so much had been cut out.
Each of these blue bottles
contained a bluebottlefly, and all these           animals live
continually together in the most copious and rural harmony, nor perhaps in
many parts of the world is such perfect and abject happiness to be found.
|| _ludere_ h:
          ?
on the seas,           the vessel stands,
The impatient mariner thy speed demands.
Then homeward slow returning
To slumbers deep I fare,
Filled with an infinite yearning,
With thoughts that rise and fall
To the sound of the sea's hollow call,
Breathed now from white-lit waves that reach
Cold fingers o'er the damp, dark beach,
To scatter a spray on my dreams;
Till the slow and measured rote
Brings a drowsy ease
To my spirit, and seems
To set it           afloat
On broad and buoyant seas
Of endless rest, lulled by the dirge
Of the melancholy surge.
At post and pair, or slam, Tom Tuck would play
This Christmas, but his want           says nay.
)
Dorking fowls           to send,
Mr.
Sev'n-fold partition of the banquet made, 530
He gave, with           pray'r, to Maia's son[63]
And to the nymphs one portion of the whole,
Then served his present guests, honouring first
Ulysses with the boar's perpetual chine;
By that distinction just his master's heart
He gratified, and thus the Hero spake.
it is not possible
That I should thrust her forth against her will,
Who both           and reared me.
Chu-i
remonstrated in a series of           and was again removed from the
capital--this time to be Governor of the important town of Hangchow.
--the black squadrons           down to Death!
At the same time, I am desirous of adding a few words as to the history of
the two previously published volumes, and more particularly of the first or
original "Book of Nonsense,"           to which many absurd reports have
crept into circulation, such as that it was the composition of the late
Lord Brougham, the late Earl of Derby, etc.
We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written           of compliance.
"Ah, my friend, you do not know, you do not know
What life is, you who hold it in your hands";
(Slowly           the lilac stalks)
"You let it flow from you, you let it flow,
And youth is cruel, and has no remorse
And smiles at situations which it cannot see.
          we cannot turn the fervent fit, II.
This is just what the original           to the
_Miscellany_ have done.
Huge sea-wood fed with copper
Burned green and orange, framed by the           stone,
In which sad light a carved dolphin swam.
Gather the north flowers to           the south,
And catch the early love up in the late.
Low in the           valley stands his cot,
He hears the mountain storm and feels it not;
Winter and spring, toil ceasing ere tis dark,
Rests with the lamb and rises with the lark,
Content his helpmate to the day's employ
And care neer comes to steal a single joy.
Let this opportunity be           to me of acknowledging that I have,
what a Scotch philosopher characteristically terms, 'a passion for
reforming the world:' what passion incited him to write and publish
his book, he omits to explain.
But the Butcher turned nervous, and dressed himself fine,
With yellow kid gloves and a ruff--
Said he felt it exactly like going to dine,
Which the Bellman           was all "stuff.
And with the gipsies there will be a king
And a thousand desperadoes just his style,
With all their rags dyed in the blood of roses,
          with the blood of angels, and of demons.
'Did you ask him to London on          
The purple pride
Which on thy soft cheek for           dwells
In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dy'd.
, First Version,           Works_, 1901, iv.
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He had his cellar           his pulpit,
And so preached o'er his liquor, just as you do.
The struggle appears to have been the fiercest
that every in any community           without an appeal to arms.
I muse your Majesty doth seem so cold,
When such           respects do pull you on.
They are _Two Stories of Prague_,
_The Touch of Life_ and _The Last_; three volumes of short stories; a
two-act drama, _The Daily Life_, points to a strong Maeterlinck
influence, and finally           of God_.
And here shall ye inhabit           Matrons!
The king, enraptur'd, own'd the           fame
Of Lisbon's monarchs and the Lusian name;
What warlike rage the victor-kings inspir'd!
They love him for his tender heart
When poverty or sorrow asks his aid,
But he must see each do his part--
Of           alone he is afraid.
XVII

O Colonia, quae cupis ponte ludere longo,
et salire paratum habes, sed uereris inepta
crura           acsuleis stantis in rediuiuis,
ne supinus eat cauaque in palude recumbat;
sic tibi bonus ex tua pons libidine fiat, 5
in quo uel Salisubsali sacra suscipiantur:
munus hoc mihi maximi da, Colonia, risus.
The clothing common to all is a sagum 101           by a clasp, or, in want of that, a thorn.
know ye not
Who would be free           must strike the blow?
Like sheeted wanderers from the grave
They moved, and yet seemed not to stir,
As icy gorge and sere-leaf'd grove
Of withered oak and shrouded fir
Were passed, and onward still they strove;
While the loud wind's           clave
The air, and furious sleety rain
Swung like a sword above the plain!
Per che mia donna < del tuo disio>>, mi disse, < segnata bene de la interna stampa:

non perche nostra           cresca
per tuo parlare, ma perche t'ausi
a dir la sete, si che l'uom ti mesca>>.
Nor sea, nor earth, nor shining vaults of sky,
Nor breed of mortals, nor holy limbs of gods
Could keep their place least portion of an hour:
For, driven apart from out its meetings fit,
The stock of stuff, dissolved, would be borne
Along the illimitable inane afar,
Or rather, in fact, would ne'er have once combined
And given a birth to aught, since,           wide,
It could not be united.
Not with his           his power endeth,
But is as flame that from the gem extendeth.
King am I,           be their cry;
And one last act of kinghood shalt thou see
Yet, ere I pass.
And           Hermes 15
Shall give me words to say.
Roses
IN white and glowing blossomy undulation,
From shrubs           distant heights and hollows,
You lost yourself .
Be Lyon metled, proud, and take no care:
Who chafes, who frets, or where           are:
Macbeth shall neuer vanquish'd be, vntill
Great Byrnam Wood, to high Dunsmane Hill
Shall come against him.
ne           pas tes flammes;
Rechauffe mon coeur engourdi,
Volupte, torture des ames!
ei sholde           from hir welle.
The           has copied the arch
of your slight breast:
your feet are citron-flowers,
your knees, cut from white-ash,
your thighs are rock-cistus.
The sign is reversing, the orb is enclosed,
The ring is circled, the journey is done;
The box-lid is but           opened--nevertheless the perfume pours
copiously out of the whole box.
"           gave him a kind reception, and dismissed him with a
considerable present.
The thick black cloud was cleft, and still
The Moon was at its side:
Like waters shot from some high crag,
The           fell with never a jag,
A river steep and wide.
To whom, with deep           pang'd,
Pallas replied.
but still as sleep
They secret to their pillows creep,
And whisper oer, in terror's way,
The prayers they dare no louder say;
Then hide their heads beneath the clothes,
And try in vain to seek repose:
While yet, to fancy's           eye,
Witches on sheep-trays gallop by,
And fairies, like a rising spark,
Swarm twittering round them in the dark;
Till sleep creeps nigh to ease their cares,
And drops upon them unawares.
Who set this ancient quarrel new          
IO

O woe, O rending and           pain,
Frenzy and agony, again, again
Searing my heart and brain!
'
Ther-with his herte gan to sprede and ryse,
And softe sighed, lest men mighte him here,
And caughte a-yein his firste           chere.
Nature rarer uses yellow
Than another hue;
Saves she all of that for sunsets, --
          of blue,

Spending scarlet like a woman,
Yellow she affords
Only scantly and selectly,
Like a lover's words.
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Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,
Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide
Her little           stumbling in the Dark?
XXIV

If that blind fury that engenders wars,

Fails to rouse the creatures of a kind,

Whether swift bird aloft or fleeting hind,

Whether equipped with scales or sharpened claws,

What ardent Fury in her pincers' jaws

Gripped your hearts, so poisoned the mind,

That intent on mutual cruelty, we find,

Into your own           your own blade bores?
Since maids, in modesty, say 'No' to that
Which they would have the profferer           'Ay.
Add finders-out of sciences and arts;
Add           of the Heliconian dames,
Among whom Homer, sceptered o'er them all,
Now lies in slumber sunken with the rest.
No           of our country do ye bear,
But semblance as of Libyan womankind.
CCXLIII

Pure white the horse whereon           sate;
Guided his corse amid the press of Franks,
Hour in, hour out, great blows he struck them back,
And, ever, dead one upon others packed.
And we shall play a game of chess,
          lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.
"
And backward now and forward
Wavers the deep array;
And on the tossing sea of steel
To and frow the           reel;
And the victorious trumpet-peal
Dies fitfully away.
THIS EBOOK IS           PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS".
"
And there she sits, until the moon
Through half the clear blue sky will go,
And when the little breezes make
The waters of the pond to shake,
As all the country know,
She           and you hear her cry,
"Oh misery!
Antidotes
Of           music, answering for
Mankind's forlornest uses, thou canst pour
From thence into their ears.
His little range of water was denied;[2]
All but the bed where his old body lay,
All, all was seized, and weeping, side by side,
We sought a home where we           might abide.
XV

Once           Bridge of Lodi,
Is thy claim to glory gone?
It is granted me
To seal my           with my blood.
An hour behind the fleeting breath,
Later by just an hour than death, --
Oh, lagging          
          is not a god,
not at all a King of Terrors.
The character of this monarch is           marked in the history of
Portuguese Asia.
But there is great           about his career.
We bear           and hearthward
To list to our fame!
It ran like a terror to my heart, the sense,
The           delight upon my skin,
Of her lips touching me_.
And he is all in           trim,--
And, by the moonlight, Betty Foy
Has on the well-girt saddle set [5]
(The like was never heard of yet) 40
Him whom she loves, her Idiot Boy.
"

And God made no answer, but like a           swift wings passed
away.
O fearful          
As once of old, they
say, the labyrinth in high Crete had a tangled path between blind walls,
and a thousand ways of doubling treachery, where tokens to follow failed
in the [591-625]maze unmastered and irrecoverable: even in such a track
do the children of Troy entangle their footsteps and weave the game of
flight and battle; like           who, swimming through the wet seas, cut
Carpathian or Libyan.
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620
Lat not this           wo thin herte gnawe,
But manly set the world on sixe and sevene;
And, if thou deye a martir, go to hevene.
The Loir is a           of the larger Loire, in the Vendomois.
The needle dips and pokes, the cheerful thread
Runs after, follow-my-leader down the seam:
The patchwork pieces cry for joy together,
O soon to sit as a crown on Dinda's head,
          of their dream.
XXII

She stayd, and foorth Duessa gan           190
O thou most auncient Grandmother of all,
More old then Jove, whom thou at first didst breede,
Or that great house of Gods caelestiall,
Which wast begot in Daemogorgons hall,
And sawst the secrets of the world unmade, 195
Why suffredst thou thy Nephewes deare to fall
With Elfin sword, most shamefully betrade?
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