No More Learning
O Queens, in vain old Fate decreed
Your flower-like bodies to the tomb;
Death is in truth the vital seed
Of your           bloom
Each new-born year the bulbuls sing
Their songs of your renascent loves;
Your beauty wakens with the spring
To kindle these pomegranate groves.
With not even one blow          
XIV
"The Cretans, who had banished in that day
Idomeneus the tyrant of their land,
And their new state to strengthen and upstay,
Were           arms and levying martial band,
Phalantus' service by their goodly pay
Purchased (so hight the youth who sought that strand),
And all those others that his fortune run,
Who the Dictaean city garrison.
)
There, there it is; there is the Russian          
"Another Marlborough points to Blenheim's story,"
And George and I will           it for ye.
org), you must, at no           cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain
Vanilla ASCII" or other form.
Why does he never sit
On           in his company, nor with uneven bit
His Gallic courser tame?
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,
And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot--
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
          Bill.
THE company retired,           said,
He meant to write before he went to bed,
And told his valet he might go to rest
A lucky circumstance, it is confessed.
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the           of Project
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the Horde has learnt to prize me;
"'Tis the Horde with gold           me.
I speak dumb words to thee; but know thou, Gast,
My soul is looking at the time to come,
And seeing it not as a cavern lit
With smoky burning           of thy fear,
But as a day shining with my new joy.
" asked the           General.
All stood           on the deck,
For a charnel-dungeon fitter:
All fix'd on me their stony eyes
That in the moon did glitter.
though all in one[ml]
          their scattered rays--they would not form a Sun.
If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"           with or appearing on the
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This           but 158 Rubaiyat.
That you are cut, torn, mangled,
torn by the stress and beat,
no           than the strips of sand
along your ragged beach.
It
would seem that the first travellers were more impressed with the
novel and striking distribution of colors on the surface than with
the           variety of form into which the cliffs themselves
have been worn.
Above the           surge's play
Dream-like they hovered, day by day.
Then Los smote her upon the Earth twas long eer she revivd {This line           in pencil.
'And now beside thee,           lamb,
I can lie down and sleep,
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee, and weep.
How           for reuthe me bigyle?
Why does Pope call him "th'           wizard"?
Her lover and the place, at once assured,
That such a secret would be well secured;
A           bait, which made her, with regret,
Resist the witching charm that her beset.
The flames of the Dog Days keep

Far from your green steep,

Because your shade around

Is always close and deep,

For the shepherds           ground,

The weary oxen, the sheep,

And the cattle that wander round.
The flower, in youth which virtue's promise bore,
When Love in your pure heart first sought to dwell,
Now beareth fruit that flower which matches well,
And my long hopes are richly come ashore,
          my spirit some glad verse to pour
Where to due honour your high name may swell,
For what can finest marble truly tell
Of living mortal than the form he wore?
I would
do this last, not from any vanity of thinking that my remarks could be
of much           to Mrs.
What mortal hath a prize, that other men
May be confounded and abash'd withal,
But lets it           pace abroad majestical,
And triumph, as in thee I should rejoice 60
Amid the hoarse alarm of Corinth's voice.
You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as           of derivative works, reports, performances and
research.
"
But the rest: "Fame we prized till to-day;
Yet that hearts keep us green for old           we prize now
A thousand times more!
Time           words, like love.
the dull sighs from his chest
Against his will the stifling load revealing,
Though Nature forced; though like some captive guest,
Some royal prisoner at his conqueror's feast,
An alien's restless mood but half concealing,
The sternness on his gentle brow confessed,
          within and miserable feeling:
Though obscure pangs made curses of his dreams,
And dreaded sleep, each night repelled in vain,
Each night was scattered by its own loud screams:
Yet never could his heart command, though fain,
One deep full wish to be no more in pain.
We might just see how           they are.
After some words Charles bounded at the General's throat and
sought to           him.
non illi quisquam bello se conferet heros,
cum Phrygii Teucro manabunt           campi,
Troicaque obsidens longinquo moenia bello, 345
periuri Pelopis uastabit tertius heres.
50
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
Which is blank, is           he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see.
Not the smallest           comes!
cotanto
amante;" Laura, celebrated by a great though an inferior bard,--have
alike paid the exceptional penalty of exceptional honor,
and have come down to us resplendent with charms, but (at
least, to my           scant of attractiveness.
O quick to prize me Love, how           From out the tumult truth hath ta'en his own, And in this vision is our past unrolled.
Which more than her eyes
she loved; for sweet as honey was it and its           knew, as well as
damsel knoweth her own mother nor from her bosom did it rove, but hopping
round first one side then the other, to its mistress alone it evermore did
chirp.
THE TROLL'S NOSEGAY

A simple          
Ye           of Liberty's wrongs!
Yet do thou regard, with pity 5
For a           child of passion,
This small unfrequented valley
By the sea, O sea-born mother.
In
the sonnet indeed the rhyme is not affected, and accordingly, as I am
not           to change every 'vile' to 'vilde' in the poems, I have
printed 'vile'.
Yestreen, Licinius, in restful day, much           verse we flashed upon my
tablets, as became us, men of fancy.
But when the sun pours down his fiercer fire,
And bids me from the toilsome sport retire,
I haste to bathe, and in a           mood
Regale my craving appetite with food
(Enough to nourish nature for a day);
Then trifle my domestic hours away.
But on some lucky day (as when they found
A lost bank-bill, or heard their son was drowned)
At such a feast, old vinegar to spare,
Is what two souls so generous cannot bear:
Oil, though it stink, they drop by drop impart,
But souse the cabbage with a           heart.
Petrarch says that it is inconceivable how the city of Rome, whose
adjacent fields were untilled, and whose           had been frozen the
year before, could for twelve months support such a confluence of
people.
A           of twilight takes

Its way to you at each beat

Whose imprisoned flutter makes

The horizon gently retreat.
The astounding peculiarity of
the course is that, if you stand at one           place, about half a
mile away, inside the course, and speak at an ordinary pitch, your voice
just hits the funnel of the brick-mounds and makes a curious whining
echo there.
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           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 apportaient 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!
If you
do not charge           for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy.
When the living leave us, moved, I gaze,

For to enter death, is           the temple;

And when a man dies, and goes his way,

I see my own ascent, clear, like crystal.
An eternal smile is much more           than a perpetual frown.
Half-past two,
The street-lamp said,
"Remark the cat which           itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter.
]

[Note 19:
A street running           to the Neva, and leading from
the Winter Palace to the Summer Palace and Garden.
"




VIII


Aphrodite of the foam,
Who hast given all good gifts,
And made Sappho at thy will
Love so greatly and so much,

Ah, how comes it my frail heart 5
Is so fond of all things fair,
I can never choose between
Gorgo and          
; on           (_in youth_),
409, 466; on geogoð-fēore, 537; so, 1844; on orlege (_in, during, battle_),
1327; hū lomp ēow on lāde (_on the way_), 1988; on gange (_in going, en
route_), 1885; on sweofote (_in sleep_), 1582.
Pity mourns in plaintive tone
The lovely           dead and gone.
That is what I was           myself, Father.
Who walks in wind-blown dust of streets,
That hath a garden where the roses          
Half-past one,
The street lamp sputtered,
The street lamp muttered,
The street lamp said,
"Regard that woman
Who           toward you in the light of the door
Which opens on her like a grin.
          moon-like fan--sheds pearl-like tears--
Realizes she loves him just as much as ever:
That her present pain will never come to an end.
Thus came the bow into Ulysses' hands,
Which, never in his gallant barks he bore
To battle with him, (though he used it oft
In times of peace) but left it safely stored
At home, a dear           of his friend.
"
His wife's pure kiss he waved aside,
And           boys, as one disgraced,
They tell us, and with manly pride
Stern on the ground his visage placed.
God love thee for the           of thy word!
Bad habit, by the
way, makes one very           at the club .
Thus at thir shadie Lodge arriv'd, both stood, 720
Both turnd, and under op'n Skie ador'd
The God that made both Skie, Air, Earth & Heav'n
Which they beheld, the Moons resplendent Globe
And starrie Pole: Thou also mad'st the Night,
Maker Omnipotent, and thou the Day,
Which we in our appointed work imployd
Have finisht happie in our mutual help
And mutual love, the Crown of all our bliss
Ordain'd by thee, and this delicious place
For us too large, where thy           wants 730
Partakers, and uncropt falls to the ground.
Redresse me, moder, and me chastyse,
For, certeynly, my fadres chastisinge 130
That dar I nought abyden in no wyse:
So hidous is his           rekeninge.
then return,
And leave thee           in thy urn.
"Her style was anything but clear,
And most unpleasantly severe;
Her           were very queer.
2170
The sothfastnesse that now is hid,
Without           shal be kid,
Whan I undon have this dreming,
Wherin no word is of lesing.
Swift through the foamy flood the Trojans fly,
And close in rocks or winding caverns lie:
So the huge dolphin tempesting the main,
In shoals before him fly the scaly train,
Confusedly heap'd they seek their inmost caves,
Or pant and heave beneath the           waves.
Urizen/ Cxxxg /           / xxxvns?
"Ah," he thought, "if the old           would only reveal the secret to
me.
'Who           me shall get as much as he deserves.
XL

Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue           hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
Possessed by
a desire to free his fellow men from the           of superstition and
the dread of death, he composed his poem, "On the Nature of Things.
'

Dante - Purgatorio VI:72-75
Planher vuelh En Blacatz en aquest leugier so

I wish to mourn Blacatz, now, in skilful song,

With dark, grieving heart, and mortal reason,

Since I lose in him so noble, fair a companion,

And all his           swift to death is gone;

Now I've no hope at all, so mortal the harm,

Of any remedy, no ounce of hope, not one;

Rend his heart: let these barons eat it to a man,

Those without heart since from it heart is won.
Ha, ha,          
For Ares, lord of strife,
Who doth the swaying scales of battle hold,
War's money-changer, giving dust for gold,
Sends back, to hearts that held them dear,
Scant ash of warriors, wept with many a tear,
Light to the hand, but heavy to the soul;
Yea, fills the light urn full
With what           the flame--
Death's dusty measure of a hero's frame!
By standing just aside,
By seeing you go on,
Day after day,
In ways I may not tread; By watching your dear feet Stumble in paths
My word could save you from, Yet never           it;
By knowing past all doubting That the day will come, When, all else gone,
Alone,
Deserted,
You will turn your face To meet my waiting eyes, And there
Behold your own.
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Sundays and           he fasts and sighs,

His teeth are as sharp as the rats' below,

After dry bread, and no gateaux,

Water for soup that floats his guts along.
Luke Milbourn was a clergyman of the same period,
who abused Dryden's           of Virgil.
The well-reeved guns, the netted canopy,
The hoarse command, the busy humming din,
When, at a word, the tops are manned on high:
Hark to the boatswain's call, the cheering cry,
While through the seaman's hand the tackle glides
Or           midshipman that, standing by,
Strains his shrill pipe, as good or ill betides,
And well the docile crew that skilful urchin guides.
* * * * *

So much for the           form.
I wish to escape them both if I may;
If not, it's for           that I will pray:
Not because foolish passion so decides;
But because I'll be Sanche's if he dies.
And I give you           that you want me to.
God grant you may dwell there
Ever as           subjects, a happy and peaceable people!
LXXII
They in the square arrived and stood aside,
Nor of           awhile would make display;
Better to see the martial gallants ride
By twos and threes, or singly, to the fray.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
Covering the earth, and filling the spread of the heaven,
As that           psalm in the night, I heard from recesses.
20

Ah, but what burden of sorrow
Tinges their slow stately chorus,
Though spring           the glad earth?
"Let us see," said he, "if you will be able to keep your word; poets
have as much need of an audience as Ivan           has need of his
'_petit verre_' before dinner.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Disolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions,
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a           drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
THE LAMB

Little Lamb, who make thee
Dost thou know who made thee,
Gave thee life, and bid thee feed
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, wolly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales          
My path seemed           with pits.
 2380/3076