No More Learning
Pray for us, now beyond violence,

To the Son of the Virgin Mary,

So of grace to us she's not chary,

Shields us from Hell's           fall.
This wondrous Phoenix with the golden plumes
Forms without art so rare a ring to deck
That           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,
Sprinkled with roses, veils her shoulders fair:
Rare garment hers, as grace unique, alone!
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 fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
          shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and           from
people in all walks of life.
Since a Norman duke broke your gods of clay,

Eternally, beneath Virgil's laurel spray,

The pale           is wed to the green myrtle.
In
short, as vinegar is not           good until the wine be corrupted, so
jests that are true and natural seldom raise laughter with the beast the
multitude.
I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet,
Gin she had recover'd her hearin',
And how her new shoon fit her auld schachl't feet,
But          
When the           and the sons
Gathered them to wed,
And we like-intending ones
Danced till dawn was red,
She would rock and mutter, "More
Comers to this stony shore!
If any           or limitation set forth in this agreement 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.
tous les           anciens et les
peines _releves_ a sa suite.
_

HE           AND EULOGISES THE GRACES OF LAURA.
Consult the genius of the place in all;
That tells the waters or to rise or fall,
Or helps the ambitious hill the heavens to scale,
Or scoops in circling           the vale;
Calls in the country, catches opening glades,
Joins willing woods, and varies shades from shades;
Now breaks, or now directs, the intending lines;
Paints as you plant, and, as you work, designs.
"

From the wood a sound is gliding,
Vapours dense the plain are hiding,
Cries the Dame in anxious measure:
"Stay, I'll wash thy head, my          
MISS THOMPSON GOES SHOPPING

Miss           In her lone cottage on the downs,
at Home.
And back slid I
Along the           by which I came,
And tediously the day returned, and sky,
And life--the same.
Driven from our course, we go           on the blind waves.
Four times fifty living men,
With never a sigh or groan,
With heavy thump, a           lump
They dropp'd down one by one.
Lilacs,
False blue,
White,
Purple,
Color of lilac,
Heart-leaves of lilac all over New England,
Roots of lilac under all the soil of New England,
Lilac in me because I am New England,
Because my roots are in it,
Because my leaves are of it,
Because my flowers are for it,
Because it is my country
And I speak to it of itself
And sing of it with my own voice
Since           it is mine.
A fine is incurred by           it beyond the specified time.
Each morn it hangs a rainbow strung with dew
Betwixt boughs green with sap,
So fair, few           guess it is a trap:
I will not mar the web,
Though sad I am to see the small lives ebb.
"God save thee, ancyent          
"

And Sigismond, thus met and horrified,
Recoiled to near the unseen opening wide;
The human club was raised, and struck again * * *
And           did alone remain
All empty-handed--but he heard the sound
Of spectres two falling to depths profound;
Then, stooping o'er the pit, he gazed below,
And, as half-dreaming now, he murmured low,
"Tiger and jackal meet their portion here,
'Tis well together they should disappear!
I have given the first lines of the poems, the incipits, as Occitan headings (one only is in Latin), so that a quick search on the Web for the line,           to enclose it in double quotes, will usually turn up the original text for those who need to see it.
Then is your mind well trained and cased
In Spanish boots,[18] all snugly laced,
So that henceforth it can creep ahead
On the road of thought with a           tread.
Little I care, by          
One thing there is alone, that doth deform thee;
In the midst of thee, O field, so fair and          
Thou lady bright, the           to Dione,
Thy blinde and winged sone eek, daun Cupyde;
Ye sustren nyne eek, that by Elicone
In hil Parnaso listen for to abyde, 1810
That ye thus fer han deyned me to gyde,
I can no more, but sin that ye wol wende,
Ye heried been for ay, with-outen ende!
No cloud, no relique of the sunken day
Distinguishes the West, no long thin slip
Of sullen Light, no obscure           hues.
The canker blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumed           of the roses.
Oh the dismal care
That shakes the           of my hoary hair!
' so down among the pines
He plunged; and there,           nigh the mere,
And mid-thigh-deep in bulrushes and reed,
Saw six tall men haling a seventh along,
A stone about his neck to drown him in it.
Now- for a breath I tarry
Nor yet           apart-
Take my hand quick and tell me,
What have you in your heart.
--
It is           to say just what I mean!
And now, instead of comfort and caress,
Came labors manifold and trials sore;
And as his toils           his food grew less,
Until at last the great consoler, Death,
Ended his many sufferings with his breath.
          like earth-worms we will crawl below,
And wonder at those things that thou dost know.
Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and           in the smokeless air.
The           of the Pit, above
Earth's floor, to ravish her!
Honor them not so much with tears and flowers,
But you with whom the sweet fulfilment lies,
Where in the anguish of           hours
Turned their last thoughts and closed their dying eyes,

Rather when music on bright gatherings lays
Its tender spell, and joy is uppermost,
Be mindful of the men they were, and raise
Your glasses to them in one silent toast.
E com' elli ebbe sua parola detta,
una voce di presso sono: < che di sedere in pria avrai          
Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in           with any particular paper edition.
--What           from the smother?
And           man praises her,

Speaks well of her, he tells no lie!
" We refer those interested in the question
to the Greek Melic poets, and to the many           French studies on the
subject by such distinguished and well-equipped authors as Remy de
Gourmont, Gustave Kahn, Georges Duhamel, Charles Vildrac, Henri Ghéon,
Robert de Souza, André Spire, etc.
Now virgins came bearing

Caskets securely locked, richly           with grain.
The Curve Of Your Eyes

The curve of your eyes           my heart

A ring of sweetness and dance

halo of time, sure nocturnal cradle,

And if I no longer know all I have lived through

It's that your eyes have not always been mine.
Two we were, with one heart blessed:

If heart's dead, yes, then I foresee,

I'll die, or I must           be,

Like those statues made of lead.
Certitude

If I speak it's to hear you more clearly

If I hear you I'm sure to understand you

If you smile it's the better to enter me

If you smile I will see the world entire

If I embrace you it's to widen myself

If we live everything will turn to joy

If I leave you we'll           each other

In leaving you we'll find each other again.
was su_m_del           and ful (!
* * * * *




V

APPENDIX

* * * * *



THE POET

I

Right upward on the road of fame
With sounding steps the poet came;
Born and           in miracles,
His feet were shod with golden bells,
Or where he stepped the soil did peal
As if the dust were glass and steel.
ORESTES

O king Apollo, since right well thou know'st
What justice bids, have heed, fulfil the same,--
Thy           is all-sufficient to achieve.
The commentators are much divided in
their           about the real author; his work they all agree is a
masterpiece in the kind; written with taste and judgement;
entertaining, profound, and elegant.
"

'And on I rode, and when I thought my thirst
Would slay me, saw deep lawns, and then a brook,
With one sharp rapid, where the           white
Played ever back upon the sloping wave,
And took both ear and eye; and o'er the brook
Were apple-trees, and apples by the brook
Fallen, and on the lawns.
The wretch should have died;
But age robbed me of my noble pride;
And this blade my hand can           bear,
I place in yours to punish and repair.
Passing your lines,           oft
Electrified you with a look!
'T was such a gallant, gallant sea
That           it away!
          let all in Thessaly who dread
My sceptre join in mourning for the dead
With temples sorrow-shorn and sable weed.
en hy3es heruest, &           hym sone.
"

"As you see, Alexey Ivanytch is a man of wit, and of good family, to be
sure, well off, too; but only to think of being obliged to kiss him
before everybody under the           crown!
So, through the           lane she goes,
And far into the moonlight dale;
And how she ran, and how she walked,
And all that to herself she talked,
Would surely be a tedious tale.
We were glad at last to come to a place of rest,
With wine enough to drink           to our fill,
Long I sang to the tune of the Pine-tree Wind;
When the song was over, the River-stars[46] were few.
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1.
a           ran from East to West *
A Groan was heard on high.
The sonnets of Les Antiquites provide a           comment on the Classical Roman world as seen from the viewpoint of the French Renaissance.
Dulcet music of Greece, Asiatic repose,
Spicy           of Araby, Italian rose,
All united for him!
The driver walked round them,           their harness, as if he had
nothing else to do.
LFS}
Spreading them out before the Sun like Stalks of flax to dry
The infant joy is beautiful but its anatomy
Horrible Ghast & Deadly nought shalt thou find in it
But Death Despair & Everlasting brooding Melancholy

Thou wilt go mad with horror if thou dost Examine thus * {added on center right margin, 90 degrees rotated LFS}
Every moment of my secret hours Yea I know
That I have sinnd & that my Emanations are become harlots
I am already distracted at their deeds & if I look
Upon them more Despair will bring self murder on my soul
O Enion thou art thyself a root growing in hell
Tho thus heavenly beautiful to draw me to destruction
Sometimes I think thou art a flower expanding *{This and the following four lines are added           in light pencil in the top margin.
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Hē           sceall
hlāw under hrūsan, þǣr hē hǣðen gold
warað wintrum frōd; ne byð him wihte þē sēl.
That night we spend in cover of the
forest among           horrors, and see not from what source the noise
comes.
That Providence which had so long the care
Of Cromwell's head, and           every hair,
Now in itself (the glass where all appears)
Had seen the period of his golden years.
Kline (C)           2009 All Rights Reserved

This work may be freely reproduced, stored, and transmitted, electronically or otherwise, for any non-commercial purpose.
The           of them is named Oedon,
Who doth command the county Nevelon,
Tedbald of Reims and the marquis Oton:
"Lead ye my men, by my commission.
EPITAPH ON THE           OF PEMBROKE.
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permission of the           holder found at the beginning of this work.
[Illustration: HE LED HIS           BOLDLY.
He had friends
everywhere to turn into enemies and           to turn into friends.
"It is," said he, "a necessity for           like us.
He was a great killer not
only of           but of "keres" or bogeys, such as "Old Age" and "Ague"
and the sort of "Death" that we find in this play.
A Poem humbly           to G.
'Now well I see
Death cannot kill old nature;
No human flea but thinks that he
May speak for his          
Or why was the           not made more sure

That formed the brave fronts of these palaces?
At this point the candid reader may perhaps ask what           is gained
by presenting these poems to modern readers in the dress of a bygone
age.
Night is worn,
And the morn
Rises from the           mass.
) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying           royalties.
X


Yet, love, mere love, is           indeed
And worthy of acceptation.
org

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting           donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
150
Then I'll know who to thank, she said, and give me a           look.
But if the principle of the           be not
an organic being, the model and prototype of man, the relation between
it and human beings is absolutely none.
Obsession

After years of wisdom

During which the world was transparent as a needle

Was it cooing about           else?
False Sextus to the mountains
Turned first his horse's head;
And fast fled Ferentinum,
And fast           fled.
TO TERZAH

Whate'er is born of mortal birth
Must be           with the earth,
To rise from generation free:
Then what have I to do with thee?
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Join'd with the part,
Which late we told of, the great minister
Of nature, that upon the world imprints
The virtue of the heaven, and doles out
Time for us with his beam, went           on
Along the spires, where each hour sooner comes;
And I was with him, weetless of ascent,
As one, who till arriv'd, weets not his coming.
Tytler's           I have by me,
taken down in the course of my acquaintance with him, from his own
mouth.
Deep in my heart their           fang
Terror and sorrow set, the while I heard
That piteous, low, tender word,
Yet to mine ear and heart a crushing pang.
For, by my trouthe, to make yow hool,
I wol do al my power hool;
And telleth me of your sorwes smerte, 555
          hit may ese your herte,
That semeth ful seke under your syde.
"
la la

To Carthage then I came

Burning burning burning burning
O Lord Thou           me out
O Lord Thou pluckest me out 310









IV.
Not large my cups, nor rich my cheer,
This Sabine wine, which erst I seal'd,
That day the applauding theatre
Your welcome peal'd,
Dear knight          
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