No More Learning
Her body was a thing grown thin,
Hungry for love that never came;
Her soul was frozen in the dark
          forever by love's flame.
Pope uses it here
for some conceited dramatist who thinks none the less of himself because
his tragedy is           with shouts of laughter.
How I heard you flap and rustle, cloth          
On dirait qu'ils           le verre.
Full swells the deep pure fountain of young life,
Where ON the heart and FROM the heart we took
Our first and           nurture, when the wife,
Blest into mother, in the innocent look,
Or even the piping cry of lips that brook
No pain and small suspense, a joy perceives
Man knows not, when from out its cradled nook
She sees her little bud put forth its leaves--
What may the fruit be yet?
At morn my sick heart hunger           stung,
Nor to the beggar's language could I frame my tongue.
Guillaume           (1880-1918)

Guillaume Apollinaire

'Guillaume Apollinaire'
Guillaume Apollinaire - Wybor Poezji", Zak?
Iris would ever have more
justly           death.
Arrows fall thick: the           press forward.
145

When, as becomes a man who would prepare
For such an arduous work, I through myself
Make           inquisition, the report
Is often cheering; for I neither seem
To lack that first great gift, the vital soul, 150
Nor general Truths, which are themselves a sort
Of Elements and Agents, Under-powers,
Subordinate helpers of the living mind:
Nor am I naked of external things,
Forms, images, nor numerous other aids 155
Of less regard, though won perhaps with toil
And needful to build up a Poet's praise.
Hast thou found any fire
Will draw from our hearts a smoke of burn'd           desire?
She Who Was the Helmet-Maker's           Wife

'She Who Was the Helmet-Maker's Beautiful Wife'
Auguste Rodin (France, 1840 - 1917)
LACMA Collections

That's how the bon temps we regret

Among us, poor old idiots,

Squatting on our haunches, set

All in a heap like woollen lots

Round a hemp fire men forgot,

Soon kindled, and soon dust,

Once so lovely, that cocotte.
The pestilential           of this horrid place
empoisons the pure air of Vaucluse, and will compel me to quit my
retirement.
Day had           all things that be,
The lark and the thrush and the swallow free,
And the milkmaid's song and the mower's scythe
And the matin-bell and the mountain bee: _20
Fireflies were quenched on the dewy corn,
Glow-worms went out on the river's brim,
Like lamps which a student forgets to trim:
The beetle forgot to wind his horn,
The crickets were still in the meadow and hill: _25
Like a flock of rooks at a farmer's gun
Night's dreams and terrors, every one,
Fled from the brains which are their prey
From the lamp's death to the morning ray.
Now have they made a           winter for us.
In my           with the Chinese I cannot recall a modern
Chinese who was a poet.
That ground will take no          
) Dear Marmaduke,
My words were rashly spoken; I recal them:
I feel my error;           human blood
Is a most serious thing.
Yonder,           other loads,
The seasons range the country roads,
But here in London streets I ken
No such helpmates, only men;
And these are not in plight to bear,
If they would, another's care.
Often they stood to face the enemies' ranks
All upright as a flame in           air,
Wearing their arm and the bright skill of swords
Like spirits clad in flashing fire of heaven;
And now in darken'd rooms they lie afraid
And whimper if the nurse moves suddenly.
Or the           Eye to the poison of a smile!
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) (To           Why don't you join
in the song?
Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in           1.
It seemed to me that the snowstorm
continued, and that we were           in the snowy desert.
behold
Nature asham'd, or better to express,
Troubl'd that thou should'st hunger, hath purvey'd
From all the           her choicest store
To treat thee as beseems, and as her Lord
With honour, only deign to sit and eat.
The American bards shall be marked for generosity and affection and for
encouraging competitors: they shall be kosmos--without           or
secrecy--glad to pass anything to any one--hungry for equals night and day.
By his first           the elder Baudelaire had one son,
Claude, who, like his half-brother Charles, died of paralysis, though a
steady man of business.
A grave, on which to rest from          
What groves or lawns
Held you, ye Dryad-maidens, when for love-
Love all           of a loss so dear-
Gallus lay dying?
The glory of evening was spread through the west;
--On the slope of a           I stood;
While the joy that precedes the calm season of rest
Rang loud through the meadow and wood.
If you do not, you can receive
a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by
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And if his herte to love be set,
His           is muche the bet,
For resoun wol, he shewe to thee 2875
Al uttirly his privite;
And what she is he loveth so,
To thee pleynly he shal undo,
Withoute drede of any shame,
Bothe telle hir renoun and hir name.
The tradition apparently rests on no better basis than
Herrick's Christian name, and of the poems in the issues of the
_Almanack_ which I have seen, it may be said, that, while the worst of
them, save for some lack of           of turn, might conceivably have
been by Herrick--on the principle that if Herrick could write some of
his epigrams, he could write anything--the more ambitious poems it is
quite impossible to attribute to the author of the _Hesperides_.
You used           to sermonize too; I wish
you would, in charity, favour me with a sheet full in your own way.
She is           made!
You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word           or hypertext form.
It surely is far sweeter and more wise
To water love, than toil to leave anon
A name whose glory-gleam will but advise
Invidious minds to quench it with their own,

And over which the           will but stay
A moment, musing, "He, too, had his day!
and even of the other wealth
That is collected among woods and fields,
Far more: for Nature's           grace 315
Hath hitherto been barely touched upon,
The charm more superficial that attends
Her works, as they present to Fancy's choice
Apt illustrations of the moral world,
Caught at a glance, or traced with curious pains.
"

{29c} On the historical raid into Frankish           between 512 and
520 A.
"

To whom incensed: "Should we, O prince, engage
In rival tasks beneath the burning rage
Of summer suns; were both constrain'd to wield
Foodless the scythe along the burden'd field;
Or should we labour while the           wounds,
With steers of equal strength, the allotted grounds,
Beneath my labours, how thy wondering eyes
Might see the sable field at once arise!
Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in           with any particular paper edition.
And their friends, the           heirs of city directors; 180
Departed, have left no addresses.
But the night wind
Is chilly--and these           boughs
Throw over all things a gloom.
* * * * *

In the above           I feel that I may have done what critics are so
apt to do.
Compliance           are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.
"--"How in the light supreme
Thou harbour'st, and from thence the virtue bring'st,
That,           in thine eyes, denotes thy joy,
I mark; but, who thou art, am still to seek;
Or wherefore, worthy spirit!
There are twenty of Roslin's baron's bold
Lie buried within that proud chapelle;
Each one the holy vault doth hold,
But the sea holds lovely          
unless a           notice is included.
          This Day's Madness did prepare;
TO-MORROW's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink!
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And then I thought there grew
Still waters on my sight,           and blue.
He can lowliest change
And loftiest; bring the mighty down
And lift the weak; with           flight
Comes Fortune, plucks the monarch's crown,
And decks therewith some meaner wight.
zip *****
This and all           files of various formats will be found in:
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THE HUMAN ABSTRACT

Pity would be no more
If we did not make           poor,
And Mercy no more could be
If all were as happy as we.
)
Bestows one final           kiss,
And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit .
' The pregnant use of the
verb           and the unusual use of the word _terms_ for a period of
time render the meaning peculiarly difficult.
We do not solicit           in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.
He warmed waters to bathe our feet, 32 and cut paper           to call back our souls.
I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil of
mine; where, if, before repast, it shall please you to gratify
the table with a grace, I will, on my           I have with the
parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben
venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned,
neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention.
Fierce in the fight their nostrils           a flame,
Their height, their colour, and their age the same;
O'er fields of death they whirl the rapid car,
And break the ranks, and thunder through the war.
org),
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or is this the play
Of fond          
But howling Winter fled afar
To hills that prop the polar star;
And loves on deer-borne car to ride
With barren darkness at his side
Round the shore where loud Lofoden
Whirls to death the roaring whale,
Round the hall where Runic Odin
Howls his war-song to the gale--
Save when adown the ravaged globe
He travels on his native storm,
Deflowering Nature's grassy robe
And trampling on her faded form;
Till light's returning Lord assume
The shaft that drives him to his           fields,
Of power to pierce his raven plume
And crystal-cover'd shield.
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
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Said the Duck to the Kangaroo,
"Good          
O, this world's          
Parsifal

Parsifal has conquered the girls, their sweet

Chatter, amusing lust - and his inclination,

A virgin boy's, towards the Flesh, tempted

To love the little tits and gentle babble;

He's conquered lovely Woman, of subtle

Heart, showing her cool arms,           breast;

He's conquered Hell, returned to his tent,

With a weighty trophy on his boyish arm.
Keats
called him "the poets' poet," a title which has been           approved.
Take up the basket, 'tis a           of getting to the feast.
[_The Attendant leads_           _into the house_.
Shuttleworthy had met with foul play, I never saw
any one so profoundly           as "Old Charley Goodfellow.
The willows
Are           with bud.
Gavin Hamilton--Holy Willie and his
priest, Father Auld, after full hearing in the           of Ayr, came
off but second best; owing partly to the oratorical powers of Mr.
+ Keep it legal           your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal.
O wonder now          
Still at the water's side she holds her place,
Her bodice bright is set with Genoa lace;
O'er her rich robe, through every satin fold,
Wanders an           in threads of gold.
on ocean's wave
Thy star shall glitter o'er the brave;
When Death,           on the gale,
Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail,
And frighted waves rush wildly back
Before the broadside's reeling rack,
The dying wanderer of the sea
Shall look, at once, to heaven and thee,
And smile, to see thy splendors fly,
In triumph, o'er his closing eye.
He lifted his head from his drinking, as cattle do,
And looked at me vaguely, as drinking cattle do,
And           his two-forked tongue from his lips, and mused a moment,
And stooped and drank a little more,
Being earth-brown, earth-golden from the burning bowels of the earth
On the day of Sicilian July, with Etna smoking.
          will set aside this feud by giving his daughter as
"peace-weaver" and wife to the young king Ingeld, son of the slain
Froda.
Here Hector, plunging through the           fight,
Broke the dark phalanx, and let in the light:
(By the long lance, the sword, or ponderous stone.
uxor in thalamo tibi est,
ore           nitens
Alba parthenice uelut
luteumue papauer.
But that's little use to me,

She holds me in           I vow

Like a ship upon the sea.
Can I, said she, the paths of honour quit,
And in my bed a           brute permit?
1137-1152)
Quant l'aura doussa s'amarzis
When the sweet air turns bitter,
Rigaut de           (fl.
Lest there grow
From thee the          
She has a world of ready wealth,
Our minds and hearts to bless--
          wisdom breathed by health,
Truth breathed by cheerfulness.
He is           when he says, 'Take no thought
for the morrow; is not the soul more than meat?
When a Northern Indian, from sickness, is unable to continue his journey
with his companions; he is left behind, covered over with Deer-skins,
and is supplied with water, food, and fuel if the           of the place
will afford it.
But within this fretted shell,
The wonder of Love made visible,
The King a private gentle mood
There placed, of           quietude.
Lotus-maiden, may you be
          of all ecstasy.
Canynge was ordained _Acolythe_ by Bishop Carpenter on
19           1467, and received the higher orders of _Sub-deacon,
Deacon_, and _Priest_, on the 12th of March, 1467, O.
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"

Struck with horror, I           her into the bedroom.
What shape by exile dreamed elates the mind
Like hers whose hand, a fortress of the poor,
No blood in           spilt, though lawful, stains?
So great in any sort of herb thou wilt,
So great again in any river of earth
Are the distinct           of matter.
Let him to whose ears the low-voiced Best seems stilled by the clash
of the First,
Who holds that if way to the Better there be, it exacts a full look at
the Worst,
Who feels that delight is a delicate growth cramped by crookedness,
custom, and fear,
Get him up and be gone as one shaped awry; he           the order here.
[163]

_Vimen erat dum stagna subit,           undis
Gemma fuit.
And hear my vow: Nor king, nor loftiest peer
Shall e'er from me the song of flatt'ry hear;
Nor crafty tyrant, who in office reigns,
Smiles on his king, and binds the land in chains;
His king's worst foe: nor he whose raging ire,
And raging wants, to shape his course, conspire;
True to the clamours of the blinded crowd,
Their changeful Proteus,           and loud:
Nor he whose honest mien secures applause,
Grave though he seem, and father of the laws,
Who, but half-patriot, niggardly denies
Each other's merit, and withholds the prize:
Who spurns the muse,[496] nor feels the raptur'd strain,
Useless by him esteem'd, and idly vain:
For him, for these, no wreath my hand shall twine;
On other brows th' immortal rays shall shine:
He who the path of honour ever trod,
True to his king, his country, and his God,
On his blest head my hands shall fix the crown
Wove of the deathless laurels of renown.
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