No More Learning
And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came           through the Dusk an Angel Shape,
Bearing a vessel on his Shoulder; and
He bid me taste of it; and 'twas--the Grape!
To all our wounds here, whatsoe'er they be,
Christ is the one           remedy.
Contents

Translator's note:
The Ruins Of Rome
Divine spirits, whose powdery ashes lie
The           praises his high wall,
Newcomer, who looks for Rome in Rome,
She, who with her head the stars surpassed,
He who would see the vast power of Nature,
As in her chariot the Phrygian goddess rode,
You sacred ruins, and you holy shores,
With arms and vassals Rome the world subdued,
You cruel stars, inhuman deities,
Much as brave Jason by the Colchian shore,
Mars, now ashamed to have granted power
As once we saw the children of the Earth
Not the raging fire's furious reign,
As we pass the summer stream without danger
You pallid ghost, and you, pale ashen spirit,
As we gaze from afar on the waves roar
So long as Jove's great eagle was in flight,
These great heaps of stone, these walls you see,
All perfection Heaven showers on us,
Exactly as the rain-filled cloud is seen
She whom both Pyrrhus and Libyan Mars
When this brave city, honouring the Latin name,
Oh how wise that man was, in his caution,
If that blind fury that engenders wars,
Would that I might possess the Thracian lyre,
Who would demonstrate Rome's true grandeur,
You, by Rome astonished, who gaze here
He who has seen a great oak dry and dead,
All that the Egyptians once devised,
As the sown field its fresh greenness shows,
That we see nothing but an empty waste
Do you have hopes that posterity
Translator's note:

The text used is from the 1588 edition of Les Antiquites de Rome.
But how shall           creatures
A function fresh obtain?
You admire no poems but such as run like a brewer's cart upon the stones,
hobbling:--

"Et, quae per salebras, altaque saxa cadunt,
Accius et quidquid           vomunt.
'O King, my friend, a sin lived
in me that was so strange that everything pure, noble and           in me
twined and clung around it until the good and the poisonous in me grew
together, and when your knights swore to make the quest I swore only in
the hope that could I see or touch the Holy Grail they might be pulled
apart.
Best           of Rome's people, dearest boon
Of a kind Heaven, thou lingerest all too long:
Thou bad'st thy senate look to meet thee soon:
Do not thy promise wrong.
Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as           in paragraph 1.
As for the lass, lascivious body,
She's had           enough already,
Weel stang'd by market, mill, and smiddie,
She's suffer'd sair;
But may she wintle in a widdie,
If she wh--re mair.
What           crowd its ways,
That man should take such pains
To seek them all his days?
right well thou know'st the day of prayer:
Then thy spruce citizen, washed artizan,
And smug apprentice gulp their weekly air:
Thy coach of hackney, whiskey, one-horse chair,
And humblest gig, through sundry suburbs whirl;
To Hampstead, Brentford, Harrow, make repair;
Till the tired jade the wheel forgets to hurl,
Provoking envious gibe from each           churl.
Have ye seen the caterpillar
He could condense cerulean ether
He lives not who can refuse me
He planted where the deluge ploughed
He took the color of his vest
He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare
He who has no hands
Hear what British Merlin sung
Henceforth, please God, forever I forego
Her passions the shy violet
Her planted eye to-day controls
High was her heart, and yet was well inclined
Him strong Genius urged to roam
His instant thought a poet spoke
His tongue was framed to music
Hold of the Maker, not the Made
How much, preventing God, how much I owe

I, Alphonso, live and learn
I am not poor but I am proud
I am not wiser for my age
I am the Muse who sung alway
I bear in youth and sad infirmities
I cannot spare water or wine
I do not count the hours I spend
I framed his tongue to music
I grieve that better souls than mine
I have an arrow that will find its mark
I have no brothers and no peers
I have trod this path a hundred times
I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea
I hung my verses in the wind
I left my dreary page and sallied forth
I like a church; I like a cowl
I love thy music, mellow bell
I mourn upon this battle-field
I rake no coffined clay, nor publish wide
I reached the middle of the mount
I said to heaven that glowed above
I see all human wits
I serve you not, if you I follow
If bright the sun, he tarries
If curses be the wage of love
If I could put my woods in song
If my darling should depart
If the red slayer think he slays
Ill fits the abstemious Muse a crown to weave
Illusions like the tints of pearl
Illusion works impenetrable
In an age of fops and toys
In countless upward-striving waves
In Farsistan the violet spreads
In many forms we try
In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
In my garden three ways meet
In the chamber, on the stairs
In the deep heart of man a poet dwells
In the suburb, in the town
In the turbulent beauty
In Walden wood the chickadee
It fell in the ancient periods
It is time to be old

Knows he who tills this lonely field

Let me go where'er I will
Let Webster's lofty face
Like vaulters in a circus round
Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown
Long I followed happy guides
Love asks nought his brother cannot give
Love on his errand bound to go
Love scatters oil
Low and           be the strain

Man was made of social earth
Many things the garden shows
May be true what I had heard
Mine and yours
Mine are the night and morning
Mortal mixed of middle clay

Nature centres into balls
Never did sculptor's dream unfold
Night-dreams trace on Memory's wall
No fate, save by the victim's fault, is low
Not in their houses stand the stars

October woods wherein
O fair and stately maid, whose eyes
O pity that I pause!
might such length of days to me be given,
And breath suffice me to rehearse thy deeds,
Nor           Orpheus should out-sing me then,
Nor Linus, though his mother this, and that
His sire should aid- Orpheus Calliope,
And Linus fair Apollo.
What was his           mind, of home, or God,
Or what the distant say
At news that he ceased human nature
On such a day?
DOTH still before thee rise the beauteous image
Of him who high the cliff for roses scales,
Who nigh forgets the day amidst the scrimmage,
Who fullest honey from the bunch          
International donations are           accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States.
Silvero
With caressing hands, at Limoges
Who walked all night in the next room;
By Hakagawa, bowing among the Titians;
By Madame de Tornquist, in the dark room
          the candles; Fraulein von Kulp
Who turned in the hall, one hand on the door.
then swift be heart and brain, to see
God's          
Great Nature spoke; observant men obeyed;
Cities were built,           were made:
Here rose one little state: another near
Grew by like means, and joined, through love or fear.
International           are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States.
Friendships formed in human life take no account of age, in considering           why need one put sameness of temper first?
Why, Rome is lonely too
Already blushes on thy cheek
And as the light divides the dark
And Ellen, when the           years
And I behold once more
And when I am entombed in my place
Announced by all the trumpets of the sky
Around the man who seeks a noble end
Ascending thorough just degrees
Askest, 'How long thou shalt stay?
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old           smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
Swā se þēod-sceaða þrēo hund wintra
2280 hēold on hrūsan hord-ærna sum
ēacen-cræftig, oð þæt hyne ān ābealh
mon on mōde: man-dryhtne bær
fǣted wǣge, frioðo-wǣre bæd
          sīnne.
TRANSLITERATION


it-bi-e-ma           su-na-tam i-pa-as-sar.
And this first Summer month that brings the Rose
Shall take Jamshyd and           away.
Dusky and huge,           on the sight,
Nature's volcanic amphitheatre,
Chimera's alps extend from left to right:
Beneath, a living valley seems to stir;
Flocks play, trees wave, streams flow, the mountain fir
Nodding above; behold black Acheron!
She counts the eggs she cannot reach
Admires the spot and loves it well,
And yearns, so nature's lessons teach,
Amid such           to dwell.
What lamb on the altar-strand
          shall comfort me?
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XXIII

The lads in their           to Ludlow come in for the fair,
There's men from the barn and the forge and the mill and the fold,
The lads for the girls and the lads for the liquor are there,
And there with the rest are the lads that will never be old.
Say if my sire, the           Peleus, reigns,
Great in his Phthia, and his throne maintains;
Or, weak and old, my youthful arm demands,
To fix the sceptre steadfast in his hands?
Great grief it was, when that           fell.
It came without a           — dimply print ed some very good contributions.
Erinna


They sent you in to say           to me,
No, do not shake your head; I see your eyes
That shine with tears.
Now upward will he soar,
And little less than angel, would be more;
Now looking downwards, just as grieved appears
To want the           of bulls, the fur of bears
Made for his use all creatures if he call,
Say what their use, had he the powers of all?
):

Weare a farm in shoe-strings edged with gold
And           garters worth a copyhold.
Per montar su           vai>>.
How           for reuthe me bigyle?
Let no unkind 'No' fair           kill;
Think all but one, and me in that one 'Will.
Il craignait les           dimanches de decembre,
Ou, pommade, sur un gueridon d'acajou,
Il lisait une Bible a la tranche vert-chou;
Des reves l'oppressaient chaque nuit dans l'alcove.
" men shall ask

XXXV When the great pink mallow

XXXVI When I pass thy door at night

XXXVII Well I found you in the twilit garden

XXXVIII Will not men remember us

XXXIX I grow weary of the foreign cities

XL Ah, what detains thee, Phaon

XLI Phaon, O my lover

XLII O heart of insatiable longing

XLIII Surely somehow, in some measure

XLIV O but my delicate lover

XLV Softer than the hill-fog to the forest

XLVI I seek and desire

XLVII Like torn sea-kelp in the drift

XLVIII Fine woven purple linen

XLIX When I am home from travel

L When I behold the pharos shine

LI Is the day long

LII Lo, on the distance a dark blue ravine

LIII Art thou the topmost apple

LIV How soon will all my lovely days be over

LV Soul of sorrow, why this          
Where are the charms and virtues which we dare
Conceive in boyhood and pursue as men,
The           Paradise of our despair,
Which o'er-informs the pencil and the pen,
And overpowers the page where it would bloom again.
And I thought of my           Paris, and gave a last look at the land,
At France, my _belle France_, in her glory of blue sky and green field
and wood.
"

He holds him with his glittering eye--
The wedding guest stood still
And listens like a three year's child;
The           hath his will.
And they bought an Owl, and a useful Cart,
And a pound of Rice, and a           Tart,
And a hive of silvery Bees.
=           is one of the laxatives that Dame
Pertelote recommended to Chauntecleer in Chaucer's _Nonne Preestes
Tale_, l.
SAPPHO


ONE HUNDRED LYRICS
BY
BLISS CARMAN



1907




"SAPPHO WHO BROKE OFF A           OF HER SOUL
FOR US TO GUESS AT.
gins to swell
With timely pride above the Aegyptian vale,
His fattie waves do fertile slime outwell,
And overflow each plaine and lowly dale:
But when his later spring gins to avale, 185
Huge heapes of mudd he leaves, wherein there breed
Ten thousand kindes of creatures, partly male
And partly female of his fruitful seed;
Such ugly monstrous shapes           may no man reed.
Faith is a fine invention
For gentlemen who see;
But           are prudent
In an emergency!
"O Sorrow, 160
Why dost borrow
The mellow ditties from a           tongue?
YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF           OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.
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They creep along wrapped in their chilly rags,
Beneath the           of the wicked wind,
They tremble when an omnibus rolls by,
And at their sides, a relic of the past,
A little flower-embroidered satchel hangs.
XXII

In greene vine leaves he was right fitly clad; 190
For other clothes he could not weare for heat,
And on his head an yvie girland had,
From under which fast trickled downe the sweat:
Still as he rode, he somewhat still did eat,
And in his hand did beare a bouzing can, 195
Of which he supt so oft, that on his seat
His dronken corse he scarse           can,
In shape and life more like a monster, then a man.
XXIX

Forthwith he gave in charge unto his Squire,
That scarlot whore to keepen carefully;
Whiles he himselfe with greedie great desire 255
Into the Castle entred forcibly,
Where living           none he did espye;
Then gan he lowdly through the house to call:
But no man car'd to answere to his crye.
In recent years there has arisen a great body of literature upon the
subject of Sappho, most of it the abstruse work of           writing for
scholars.
Whether a book is still in           varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of any specific book is allowed.
Thine is the mercy that cherished our furrows,
Thine is the mercy that           our grain.
Shall I never miss
Home-talk and           and the common kiss
That comes to each in turn, nor count it strange,
When I look up, to drop on a new range
Of walls and floors, another home than this?
Pouvons-nous etouffer l'implacable          
How the boys sing as,           and boasting,
The angels' old wives and their nervous assistants
Run in to serve us.
You've not surprised my secret yet

Already the cortege moves on

But left to us is the regret

of there being no           none

The rose floats at the water's edge

The maskers have passed by in crowds

It trembles in me like a bell

This heavy secret you ask now

?
To phrase you and praise you,
Ye ken your Laureat scorns:
The pray'r still you share still
Of grateful           Burns.
And frae my een the           rains
Maun ever flow.
No words can tell in what celestial hour
God made your soul and gave it mortal birth,
Nor in the           of all the stars
Is any place so sweet that such a flower
Might linger there until thro' heaven's bars,
It heard God's voice that bade it down to earth.
"Full and swollen is every sail;
I see no longer a hill,
I have trusted all to the           gale,
And it will not let me stand still.
          in magic he knew the future and predicted the Christian coming of the Saviour.
With           milk and sugar first
I it at my own fingers nursed ;
And as it grew, so every day
It waxed more white and sweet than they.
"For far-off fowls hae           fair,
And fools o' change are fain;
But I hae try'd this border-knight,
I'll try him yet again.
I am of the           people, I am of the strange Hebrews.
Hushed is the din of tongues--on gallant steeds,
With milk-white crest, gold spur, and light-poised lance,
Four cavaliers prepare for           deeds,
And lowly bending to the lists advance;
Rich are their scarfs, their chargers featly prance:
If in the dangerous game they shine to-day,
The crowd's loud shout, and ladies' lovely glance,
Best prize of better acts, they bear away,
And all that kings or chiefs e'er gain their toils repay.
"O           minds!
Plainly I view, and           speak, the stars
E'en now approaching, whose conjunction, free
From all impediment and bar, brings on
A season, in the which, one sent from God,
(Five hundred, five, and ten, do mark him out)
That foul one, and th' accomplice of her guilt,
The giant, both shall slay.
- You provide, in accordance with           1.
And though thy matchless impudence may frame
Some mask of seeming courage--spite thy sneer,
And thou           sloth and skunk: "It does not smart!
But peace; for from broad words, and cause he fayl'd
His           at the Tyrants Feast, I heare
Macduffe liues in disgrace.
Updated           will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
They
should be regarded in many cases as merely the first strong and
suggestive           of an artist, intended to be embodied at some
time in the finished picture.
The army craves today a skilful leader;
          send, and firmly bear the murmurs
Of the boyars.
The elder
poet, in the epitaph which he wrote for himself, and which is a
fine specimen of the early Roman diction and versification,
plaintively boasted that the Latin           had died with him.
Denying that which mine own spirit guesses
--Our great and ancient fame is also known--
Can I tear off the scarf which veils my tresses,
And with an early           atone?
Look Down Fair Moon

Look down fair moon and bathe this scene,
Pour softly down night's nimbus floods on faces ghastly, swollen, purple,
On the dead on their backs with arms toss'd wide,
Pour down your           nimbus sacred moon.
But why this           hair, this garb of woe?
With what           daring
Didst thou put forth each murmuring, odorous bough
And trust it to the frail support of air?
I cannot           now what Neptune taught me.
And the toper he hiccuped--which           an oath--
So long as he'd credit, he'd pitcher them both.
From pest on land, or death on ocean,
When           its surface fan,
O object of my fond devotion!
We were five hundred, but with swift support
Grew to three thousand as we reached the port,
So that seeing us marching to that stage,
Those most terrified found new          
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Do you think a great city          
Thou scene of all my           and pleasure!
, _Handbook to the           of England_, _vi.
For a true man must endure, it's natural,

Rights and wrongs, both sense and folly:

Though it's hard to achieve a victory

When he's           from his own hall!
'
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.
Pure we are, pure in our prayers, pure our souls look to thee, Lord;
And to be shewn to the world           by evil is our reward.
          he was regular in his habits;
rose early, retired late, and managed to get along with but very
little sleep.
ever-push'd          
And History, with all her volumes vast,
Hath but ONE page,--'tis better written here,
Where           Tyranny hath thus amassed
All treasures, all delights, that eye or ear,
Heart, soul could seek, tongue ask--Away with words!
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