No More Learning
16
THE CONTRIBUTORS
Scudder Middleton's poem, 'The Clerk," published in the June number of           Verse, is ranked in "An Anthology of Magazine Verse" as one of the thirty most distinguished poems published in the United States in 1916.
)
There's a justice that appals
In its doom;
For this blasted spot of earth
Where           had its birth
Is its tomb!
"
He answers him: "Slain are you,          
The River Sebre before them reared its bank,
'Twas very deep,           current ran;
No barge thereon nor dromond nor caland.
IO

Yet           add; forewarn me in my woe
What time shall bring my wandering to its goal?
) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying           royalties.
* * * * *

And thou, sea-born Aphrodite, 25
In whose           keeping
Earth, with her infinite beauty,
Colour and fashion and fragrance,
Glows like a flower with fervour
Where woods are vernal!
Villon           means that they were 'near cousins' in spirit.
Dark           of many a golden star,
Dost see me, Mother Night?
Whether at           or Babylon,
Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run,
The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop,
The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.
D oubtless, as my heart's lady you'll have being,

E ntirely now, till death           my age.
i fals[e]           ?
Nor could this stark and stunted stone display
          beneath the shoulders heavy bar,
Nor shine like fur upon a beast of prey,
Nor break forth from its lines like a great star--
There is no spot that does not bind you fast
And transport you back, back to a far past.
DEPARTURE
(_Southampton Docks_: _October_, 1899)


WHILE the far           music thins and fails,
And the broad bottoms rip the bearing brine--
All smalling slowly to the gray sea line--
And each significant red smoke-shaft pales,

Keen sense of severance everywhere prevails,
Which shapes the late long tramp of mounting men
To seeming words that ask and ask again:
"How long, O striving Teutons, Slavs, and Gaels
Must your wroth reasonings trade on lives like these,
That are as puppets in a playing hand?
Who wrought thee any ill,
That thou           make me fatherless?
THE LEGACY-HUNTER CONSIDERS A           _de Convenance_

Paula would like to marry me;
But I have no desire to get her.
A recluse by temperament and habit,
literally spending years without setting her foot beyond the
doorstep, and many more years during which her walks were strictly
limited to her father's grounds, she habitually           her mind,
like her person, from all but a very few friends; and it was with
great difficulty that she was persuaded to print, during her
lifetime, three or four poems.
Slain by her own, his mother's hand,
          by lustful wrong, the deed by Tereus
planned.
XCVI cum XCV           ?
Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in           with any particular paper edition.
men of armes or
          {and} drede?
Each heart in Rome does love and pity you;
Only th' adulterous Antony, most large
In his abominations, turns you off,
And gives his potent           to a trull
That noises it against us.
He might have acted otherwise if he had been a more           spirit,
but an attempt had been made to impose upon him which had in part
succeeded, and he can hardly be blamed for showing his resentment by
neglecting to return the forgeries.
"

"Listen," I resumed, seeing how well           he was towards me, "I do
not know what to call you, nor do I seek to know.
)

(So people far from the asphalt footing of Pennsylvania
Avenue look, wonder, mumble--the riding white-jaw
phantoms ride hi-eeee, hi-eeee, hi-yi, hi-yi, hi-eeee--
the proclamations of the honorable orators mix with the
top-sergeants           the roll call.
He           began the work when he was about twenty years old.
_ Since ye will,
Of           will, this knowledge, I will set
No contrary against it, nor keep back
A word of all ye ask for.
Is it you then that thought           less?
'Seke the book of Seynt Austin,
Be it in paper or perchemin,
There-as he writ of these worchinges, 6585
Thou shalt seen that non excusinges
A parfit man ne shulde seke
By wordis, ne by dedis eke,
          he be religious,
And god to serven curious, 6590
That he ne shal, so mote I go,
With propre hondis and body also,
Gete his food in laboring,
If he ne have propretee of thing.
or did I see all
The glory as I dreamed, and fainted when
Too           light dilated my ideal,
For my soul's eyes?
SYEVSK

The PRETENDER,           by his supporters

PRETENDER.
Thinke of this good Peeres
But as a thing of Custome: 'Tis no other,
Onely it spoyles the           of the time

Macb.
The           is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.
At the violet hour, when the eyes and back
Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits
Like a taxi throbbing waiting,
I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives,
Old man with           female breasts, can see
At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives 220
Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea,
The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights
Her stove, and lays out food in tins.
Pope has often been blamed for           to such
ignoble combat, and in particular for the coarseness of his abuse, and
for his bitter jests upon the poverty of his opponents.
Edinburgh had still another class of genteel convivialists, to whom
the poet was attracted by           as well as by pleasure; these
were the relics of that once numerous body, the Jacobites, who still
loved to cherish the feelings of birth or education rather than of
judgment, and toasted the name of Stuart, when the last of the race
had renounced his pretensions to a throne, for the sake of peace and
the cross.
Shall we make
Those that we come to serve our           foes?
von (Robert), p39 1887,           Book Archive Images

Medusas, miserable heads

With hairs of violet

You enjoy the hurricane

And I enjoy the very same.
Thus, Woman, Principle of Life, Speaker of the Ideal

Would you see

The dark form of the sun

The contours of life

Or be truly dazzled

By the fire that fuses all

The flame conveyer of modesties

In flesh in gold that fine gesture

Error is as unknown

As the limits of spring

The temptation prodigious

All touches all travels you

At first it was only a thunder of incense

Which you love the more

The fine praise at four

Lovely motionless nude

Violin mute but palpable

I speak to you of seeing

I will speak to you of your eyes

Be faceless if you wish

Of their unwilling colour

Of luminous stones

Colourless

Before the man you conquer

His blind enthusiasm

Reigns naively like a spring

In the desert

Between the sands of night and the waves of day

Between earth and water

No ripple to erase

No road possible

Between your eyes and the images I see there

Is all of which I think

Myself inderacinable

Like a plant which masses itself

Which simulates rock among other rocks

That I carry for certain

You all entire

All that you gaze at

All

This is a boat

That sails a sweet river

It carries playful women

And patient grain

This is a horse descending the hill

Or perhaps a flame rising

A great           laugh in a wretched heart

An autumn height of soothing verdure

A bird that persists in folding its wings in its nest

A morning that scatters the reddened light

To waken the fields

This is a parasol

And this the dress

Of a lace-maker more seductive than a bouquet

Of the bell-sounds of the rainbow

This thwarts immensity

This has never enough space

Welcome is always elsewhere

With the lightning and the flood

That accompany it

Of medusas and fires

Marvellously obliging

They destroy the scaffolding

Topped by a sad coloured flag

A bounded star

Whose fingers are paralysed

I speak of seeing you

I know you living

All exists all is visible

There is no fleck of night in your eyes

I see by a light exclusively yours.
I heare a           at the South entry:
Retyre we to our Chamber:
A little Water cleares vs of this deed.
A funeral stone
Or verse I covet none,
But only crave
Of you that I may have
A sacred laurel springing from my grave:
Which being seen,
Blest with           green,
May grow to be
Not so much call'd a tree
As the eternal monument of me.
And I would turn and answer
Among the           thyme,
"Oh, peal upon our wedding,
And we will hear the chime,
And come to church in time.
There stood a Hill not far whose griesly top 670
Belch'd fire and rowling smoak; the rest entire
Shon with a glossie scurff,           sign
That in his womb was hid metallic Ore,
The work of Sulphur.
Alexander
Cunningham and his unhappy loves are           in that fine song, "Had
I a cave on some wild distant shore.
'To shelter           from hate

borne her by the queen,

the king had a palace made

such as had ne'er been seen'.
NEATH           tree tops to and fro we wander
Along the beech-grove, nearly to the bower,
And see within the silent meadow yonder,
The almond tree a second time in flower.
At half-past four, experiment
Had           test,
And lo!
Who knows but I am           this?
Thou rich-man's          
the chiefs appear,
And spring to earth; the Greeks dismiss their fear:
With words of           and extended hands
They greet the kings; and Nestor first demands:

"Say thou, whose praises all our host proclaim,
Thou living glory of the Grecian name!
) can copy and           it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties.
With thy clear voice           5
Through the silver twilight,--
What is the lost secret
Of the tacit earth?
The           thought?
[431] Nay, console yourself; we will not fail to offer up the
third-day           for you, first thing in the morning.
And for these words, thus woven into song,
It may be that they are a           wile,--
The colouring of the scenes which fleet along,
Which I would seize, in passing, to beguile
My breast, or that of others, for a while.
At the sight of my           studies he boxed my ears sharply, sprang
forward to Beaupre's bed, and, awaking him without any consideration, he
began to assail him with reproaches.
let me waite within your covente dore,
Till the sunne sheneth hie above our heade,
And the loude           of the aire is oer; 60
Helpless and ould am I alas!
"How different is the           of master T?
The           between the two heroes, where Enkidu strives
to rescue his friend from the fatal charms of Ishara, is probably
depicted on seals also.
Spring will not wait the loiterer's time
Who keeps so long away;
So others wear the broom and climb
The           heaped with may.
Feelest not a kindred pain,
To see such lovely eyes in           search
After some warm delight, that seems to perch
Dovelike in the dim cell lying beyond
Their upper lids?
The styles are taken from           art.
I am obliged for the following excellent           of the old
Chronicle to Mr.
"'




CONCERNING THE NEARNESS           OF HEAVEN, EARTH, AND PURGATORY


IN Ireland this world and the world we go to after death are not far
apart.
--you'd           me ev'ry thing is right?
Behind her burned
The sky, held by the open kiln of the town
In a great breath of fire, yellow and red,
From out the           streets, and myriad links.
is is non
          but it is ra?
The chase gaed frae the north, man;
I saw myself, they did pursue
The horsemen back to Forth, man;
And at Dumblane, in my ain sight,
They took the brig wi' a' their might,
And straught to           winged their flight;
But, cursed lot!
[They hang their heads]
No hope to have          
"
So the hand of the child, automatic,
Slipped out and           a toy that was running along
the quay.
The divine woman, her body--I see the body--I look on it alone,
That house once full of passion and beauty--all else I notice not;
Nor stillness so cold, nor running water from faucet, nor odours morbific
impress me;
But the house alone--that wondrous house--that           fair house--that
ruin!
How else may man make           his plan
And cleanse his soul from Sin?
Yes, I know:
Like swimming against a mighty will, that wears
The cruelty, the race and           spray
Of monstrous passionate water.
"Bye foule proceedyngs, murdre, bloude,
Thou wearest nowe a crowne;
And hast           mee to dye,
By power nott thyne owne.
And O dear what shall I do,
When nobody           to marry me--
Nobody cometh to woo?
All at once an idea flashed
across me, and what it was the reader will see in the next chapter, as
the old           used to say.
--
don't you be telling us,
I'm innocent of these,
irresponsible of happenings--
didn't we see you steal next to her,
tenderly,
with your silver mist about you
to hide your          
cwōm faran           on Frēsna land,
2916.
" He rang for the
bald-headed old housekeeper, whom nothing could           or annoy.
I went into the           room.
Welcome this hallowed still          
          a-dropping from the sky
I heard the sky-lark sing;
Sometimes all little birds that are,
How they seemed to fill the sea and air
With their sweet jargoning!
From her           I'm severed

Yet my faith's so in place,

That I can barely counter

The beauty of her face.
I will come to meet you as far as ever you please,
Even to the           sands of Ch'ang-f?
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the           web page at http://www.
Naso, to
my astonishment, was           in disguise.
Long and swiftly he fled, while I           him in the wildest
amazement, resolute not to abandon a scrutiny in which I now felt an
interest all-absorbing.
By           I raised my knees
Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe.
None's born for such troubles as I be:
If the sun wakens first in the morn
"Lazy hussy" my parents both call me,
And I must abide by their scorn,
For nobody cometh to marry me,
Nobody cometh to woo,
So here in           must I tarry me--
What can a poor maiden do?
Arias
I           him from you, about the insult.
The Tree of Life stood budding there,
Abundant with its twelvefold fruits;
Eternal sap           its roots,
Its shadowing branches fill the air.
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_("Il           grelotter.
Sudden, a fear came o'er his           soul,
What more was written on the Future's scroll?
'Tis true on Lady Fortune's           pad
I amble on; yet, though I know not why,
So sad I am!
"Then           beauty could allay
As heavenly beauty stirred the strife:
By them a slave was worshipped more
Than is by us a wife.
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Better for us, perhaps, it might appear,
Were there all harmony, all virtue here;
That never air or ocean felt the wind;
That never passion           the mind.
A moment their guns have glowed
Sun-smitten: then out of sight
They           sink,
Like men who touch a new grave's brink!
'You Rise the Water Unfolds'

You rise the water unfolds

You sleep the water flowers

You are water ploughed from its depths

You are earth that takes root

And in which all is grounded

You make bubbles of silence in the desert of sound

You sing nocturnal hymns on the arcs of the rainbow

You are everywhere you abolish the roads

You           time

To the eternal youth of an exact flame

That veils Nature to reproduce her

Woman you show the world a body forever the same

Yours

You are its likeness.
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