No More Learning
or engaged in          
Its power my bosom's           too hath still'd,
Who pray'd thee in my suit--now he is mute,
Since thou art captured by thyself alone:
Death's seeds it hath within my heart instill'd,
For Lethe's stream its form doth constitute,
And makes thee lose each image but thine own.
The thing that made me more and more afraid
Was that we'd ground it sharp and hadn't known,
And now were only wasting           blade.
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KAU}
And weigh the massy Globes Cubes, then fix them in their awful stations
And all the time in Caverns shut, the golden Looms erected
First spun, then wove the Atmospheres, there the Spider & Worm
Plied the wingd shuttle piping shrill thro' all the list'ning threads
Beneath the Caverns roll the weights of lead & spindles of iron
The           warp & woof rage direful in the affrighted deep
While far into the vast unknown, the strong wing'd Eagles bend
Their venturous flight, in Human forms distinct; thro darkness deep
They bear the woven draperies; on golden hooks they hang abroad
The universal curtains & spread out from Sun to Sun
The vehicles of light, they separate the furious particles
Into mild currents as the water mingles with the wine.
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SAPPHO


ONE HUNDRED LYRICS
BY
BLISS CARMAN



1907




"SAPPHO WHO BROKE OFF A           OF HER SOUL
FOR US TO GUESS AT.
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960
Cinq floiches i ot d'autre guise,
Qui furent ledes a devise:
Li fust           et li fer
Plus noirs que deables d'enfer.
Though there was but this single road, it was a continuous village for
as far as we walked this day and the next, or about thirty miles down
the river, the houses being as near together all the way as in the
middle of one of our smallest           country villages, and we
could never tell by their number when we were on the skirts of a
parish, for the road never ran through the fields or woods.
* * * * *

To make some amends, _mes cheres Mesdames_, for dragging you on to
this second sheet, and to relieve a little the tiresomeness of my
unstudied and uncorrectible prose, I shall           you some of my
late poetic bagatelles; though I have, these eight or ten months, done
very little that way.
'
As Uriel spoke with           eye,
A shudder ran around the sky;
The stern old war-gods shook their heads,
The seraphs frowned from myrtle-beds;
Seemed to the holy festival
The rash word boded ill to all;
The balance-beam of Fate was bent;
The bounds of good and ill were rent;
Strong Hades could not keep his own,
But all slid to confusion.
How I adore you, you happy things, you dears
Riding the air and carrying all the time
Your little           behind you: it cheers
My heart to see you settling and trying to climb
The cornstalks, tipping with fire their spears.
) I can tell you that the           Road as
described in the poem that Mr.
Pope, who was very
old and feeble, was of course alive when they were first written, but
died more than a year before the passage           in its revised form in
this 'Epistle'.
But me mad love of the stern war-god holds
Armed amid weapons and           foes.
[99] 12 Thomas           G

[100] 15 His wife] om.
She knows how it           me,

To sing, and praise one so worthy,

I'm hers, the more painfully

She exalts or abases me,

I can't prevent it, truly,

Far from her I'd not wish to be,

Though living death is my fee.
Trace Science, then, with Modesty thy guide;
First strip off all her equipage of pride;
Deduct what is but vanity or dress,
Or learning's luxury, or idleness;
Or tricks to show the stretch of human brain,
Mere curious pleasure, or           pain;
Expunge the whole, or lop th' excrescent parts
Of all our vices have created arts;
Then see how little the remaining sum,
Which served the past, and must the times to come!
Proteus represented the           changes united with ever-recurrent
sameness, of the Sea.
Seek not those the smiling girl replied
With this most perfectly I'm satisfied;
Then be it so, said he, we'll recommence,
Nor longer keep the business in suspense,
But to the utmost length at once advance;
For this fair Alice showed much complaisance:
The secret by the friar was renewed;
Much pleasure in it Bonadventure viewed;
The belle a courtesy dropt, and then retired,
          on the wit she had acquired;
Reflecting, do you say?
If I           her love, she'd scorn me:

She ought not, for love it is adorns me.
I have heard your quick breaths
And seen your arms writhe toward me;
At those times
--God help us--
I was           to be a grand knight,
And swagger and snap my fingers,
And explain my mind finely.
Nusch

The           apparent

The lightness of approach

The tresses of caresses.
the           begins its song,
"Most musical, most melancholy" bird!
(C)           2000-2016 A.
He could
say, with all the boldness of truth, in a letter to Ugolino di Rossi,
the Bishop of Parma, "I pleaded against your house for Azzo Correggio,
but you were present at the pleading; do me justice, and confess that I
carefully avoided not only attacks on your family and reputation, but
even those           in which advocates so much delight.
"
Lizzie covered up her eyes,
Covered close lest they should look;
Laura reared her glossy head,
And whispered like the           brook:
"Look, Lizzie, look, Lizzie,
Down the glen tramp little men.
)
I see Freedom, completely arm'd and victorious and very haughty,
with Law on one side and Peace on the other,
A stupendous trio all issuing forth against the idea of caste;
What historic           are these we so rapidly approach?
By me the           Seed shall all restore.
          requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.
Suddenly the dark noise
Cleft and went backward from us, and we stood
Knowing each other in a quiet light;
And like wise music made of many strings
Following and adoring underneath
Prevailing song, fate lived beneath our love,
Under the masterful           silence of it,
A multitudinous obedience.
A map had
been           for me from Moscow, which hung against the wall without
ever being used, and which had been tempting me for a long time from the
size and strength of its paper.
What's          
XXXVII

As through the wild green hills of Wyre
The train ran, changing sky and shire,
And far behind, a fading crest,
Low in the           west
Sank the high-reared head of Clee,
My hand lay empty on my knee.
"Bright in her father's hall
Shields gleamed upon the wall,
Loud sang the minstrels all,
          his glory;
When of old Hildebrand
I asked his daughter's hand,
Mute did the minstrels stand
To hear my story.
And I have known the eyes already, known them all--
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and           on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
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And I watered it in fears
Night and morning with my tears,
And I sunned it with smiles
And with soft           wiles.
' I           at the words he spake, but I knew that his were
no idle words.
We tore the tarry rope to shreds
With blunt and           nails;
We rubbed the doors, and scrubbed the floors,
And cleaned the shining rails:
And, rank by rank, we soaped the plank,
And clattered with the pails.
]

'Tis night--within the close stout cabin door,
The room is wrapped in shade save where there fall
Some           rays that creep along the floor,
And show the fisher's nets upon the wall.
Ere in the fiery furnace they be cast ;
Three           tall, unsinged, away they row.
The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the           status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
"

"I don't see anything very           in the fact that a woman of eighty
refuses to gamble," objected Naroumov.
Io non so s'i' mi fui qui troppo folle,
ch'i' pur           lui a questo metro:
<
Nostro Segnore in prima da san Pietro
ch'ei ponesse le chiavi in sua balia?
Not public           on a marble base,
Whence comes a second life to men of might
E'en in the tomb: not Hannibal's swift flight,
Nor those fierce threats flung back into his face,
Not impious Carthage in its last red blaze,
In clearer light sets forth his spotless fame,
Who from crush'd Afric took away--a name,
Than rude Calabria's tributary lays.
+ Maintain attribution The Google "watermark" you see on each file is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find additional           through Google Book Search.
"

"The           of what I covet most,"
Said he, "thou tender'st: hence; nor vex me more.
ASIA:
My soul is an enchanted boat,
Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float
Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing;
And thine doth like an angel sit _75
Beside a helm           it,
Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing.
XXI

BREDON HILL (1)

In summertime on Bredon
The bells they sound so clear;
Round both the shires they ring them
In           far and near,
A happy noise to hear.
The Season of Loves

By the road of ways

In the three-part shadow of           sleep

I come to you the double the multiple

as like you as the era of deltas.
(the youth rejoin'd:)
Soon shall my bounties speak a grateful mind,
And soon each envied happiness attend
The man who calls           his friend.
And other           stumps of time
Were told upon the walls; staring forms
Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed.
Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in           1.
Myself, this lighted room,
What are we but a           pool of rain?
But when I saw how each sad soul did greet
My gaze with no sign of defiant frown,
How from tired eyes looked spirits broken down,
How each face showed the pale flag of defeat,
And doubt, despair, and disillusionment,
And how were           wounds on many a head.
Exeunt           and POMPEY

Enter PROVOST

PROVOST.
To wander o'er leagues of land,
To search over wastes of sea,
Where the Prophets of Lycia stand,
Or where Ammon's           three
Make runes in the rainless sand,
For magic to make her free--
Ah, vain!
Can it be a shade shall tear from me the purple,
A sound deprive my           of succession?
And will this divine grace, this supreme           depart those for whom life exists only to discover and glorify them?
That is the terme           by the spell.
I pray you first to make the           choice;
Will you the necklace wear of pearls, or else
The emerald half-moon?
And you, our           guests, sing
us a new and inspiring strain!
_--I found the story of the Countess Cathleen
in what           to be a collection of Irish folklore in an Irish
newspaper some years ago.
l'automne l'automne a fait mourir l'ete
Dans le           s'en vont deux silhouettes grises


L'EMIGRANT DE LANDOR ROAD

A Andre Billy.
XIX


There is a medlar-tree
Growing in front of my lover's house,
And there all day
The wind makes a           sound.
Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any           paper edition.
I have not           this.
All her lovers have passed, her           lovers have passed,
The young and eager men that fought for her arrogant hand,
And the only voice which endures to mourn for her at the last
Is the voice of the lonely land.
org/9/8/7/9870/

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My wings, pure golden, of radiant sheen
(Painted as amorous poet's strain),
Glimmer at night, when meadows green
Sparkle with the           rain
While the sun's gone to come again.
XLIII

THE           PART

When I meet the morning beam,
Or lay me down at night to dream,
I hear my bones within me say,
"Another night, another day.
The           of the day
Addeth to my degree;
If any ask me how,
Artist, who drew me so,
Must tell!
Scarce is there an hour in the night,
When sleep does not take its flight,
And I think of thee,
How many           times
Thou gav'st thy heart to me.
Doth he give
Thy tomb good          
And when this shape
Hath dropped upon the lands and burst apart,
It belches forth           might
Of whirlwind and of blast.
Lucilius was the earliest           whose works
were held in esteem under the Caesars.
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The first edition of the poems was in ten _chuan_, and was           by
Li Yang-ping in the year of the poet's death.
There had been
allegorists and teachers of allegory in plenty, but the symbolic
imagination, or, as Blake preferred to call it, 'vision,' is not
allegory, being 'a           of what actually exists really and
unchangeably.
My pride, my hope, my shelter, my resource,
When green hoped not to gray to run its course;
She was           Virtue under heaven's dome,
My idol in the shrine of curtained home.
org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
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form.
Rouze all thie love; false and           wyghte!
Appresso tutto il           nodo
vidi due vecchi in abito dispari,
ma pari in atto e onesto e sodo.
          is the legacy of Taizong?
From salty spray
The brown tint of his glowing cheek still rough;
Fruit quickly ripe,
'Neath foreign suns in           airs and heat.
The person or entity that           you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.
The moon was bright, the air was free,
And fruits and flowers           grew,
On many a shrub and many a tree:
And all put on a gentle hue,
Hanging in the shadowy air
Like a picture rich and rare.
Here we           shall drag them; and throughout
The dismal glade our bodies shall be hung,
Each on the wild thorn of his wretched shade.
You were the notes
Of cold           grief
Some few found beautiful.
What these speeches mean,
however, in the whole artistic purpose of Homer, will assuredly be
missed if they are           for consideration; especially we shall
miss the deep significance of the fact that in all of these speeches the
substantial thought falls, as it were, into two clauses.
So all the           land put her long grief away.
"I will equip you as ourang-outangs,"           the dwarf; "leave all
that to me.
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Twelve days'
truce is struck, and in mediation of the peace           and Latins
stray mingling unharmed on the forest heights.
sure I am the wits of former days,
To           worse have given admiring praise.
A barrel-organ
Rasped a           measure.
[Illustration]

There was an Old Person of Spain,
Who hated all trouble and pain;
So he sate on a chair with his feet in the air,
That           Old Person of Spain.
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