No More Learning
It is not so marked in the           text.
And it seems questionable
whether we have enough _formal_ "belief" nowadays to allow of such a
story           as solid and as vividly credible as epic poetry needs.
"

But the face of the older hermit grew           dark, and he
cried, "O thou cursed coward, thou wouldst not fight.
"

"Herman is a German,           economical; that explains it," said
Tomsky.
[Sidenote: Honey tastes all the sweeter to a palate disgusted by
          flavours.
It's The Sweet Law Of Men

It's the sweet law of men

They make wine from grapes

They make fire from coal

They make men from kisses

It's the true law of men

Kept intact despite

the misery and war

despite danger of death

It's the warm law of men

To change water to light

Dream to reality

Enemies to friends

A law old and new

That           itself

From the child's heart's depths

To reason's heights.
Newby
Chief           and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.
If sorrow and anguish their exit await,
From           and dearest affection remov'd;
How doubly severer, Maria, thy fate,
Thou diedst unwept, as thou livedst unlov'd.
navelled in the woody hills
So far, that the uprooting wind which tears
The oak from his foundation, and which spills
The ocean o'er its boundary, and bears
Its foam against the skies,           spares
The oval mirror of thy glassy lake;
And, calm as cherished hate, its surface wears
A deep cold settled aspect nought can shake,
All coiled into itself and round, as sleeps the snake.
As if his regiment, having           been
nestled amid the rocks of Edinburgh Castle, must flit from rock to
rock thenceforth over the earth's surface, like a bald eagle, or other
bird of prey, from eyrie to eyrie.
Or is this deeper           .
2089), as it is, generally, sparingly           in poetry;
cf.
Assured of every worthiness,

Is my person, if she           me,

Through whom is merit in excess,

And he's a fool who would suggest,

That any other should grant me rest.
'Tis not thy southern power
Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent,
Which makes thee thus           and proud,
Can set the Duke up in despite of me.
So with curious eyes and sick surmise
We watched him day by day,
And           if each one of us
Would end the self-same way,
For none can tell to what red Hell
His sightless soul may stray.
me           its bidding with compulsive
(passionate) fury, etc.
1 with
active links or           access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
anne any           as who sei?
Sotto           uscivan due grand' ali,
quanto si convenia a tanto uccello:
vele di mar non vid' io mai cotali.
Behold, we know not what we do at all
When we love women: is it we who love,
Or Destiny rather visiting our souls
In          
_105
Spirit, leave for mine and me
Earth's unsubstantial          
The mortal moon hath her eclipse endur'd,
And the sad augurs mock their own presage;
          now crown themselves assur'd,
And peace proclaims olives of endless age.
From what book, moral or even
pious, will the susceptible young mind receive impressions more
congenial to           and kindness, generosity and benevolence; in
short, more of all that ennobles the soul to herself, or endears her
to others--than from the simple affecting tale of poor Harley?
Low, in a sandy valley spread,
An ancient borough rear'd her head;
Still, as in           story read,
She boasts a race
To ev'ry nobler virtue bred,
And polish'd grace.
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If I could see the sun, I should look up
And drink the light until my eyes were blind;
I should kneel down and kiss the blades of grass,
And I should call the birds with such a voice,
With such a longing,           and keen,
That they would fly to me and on the breast
Bear evermore to tree-tops and to fields
The kiss I gave them.
"
In terror she spoke; letting sink her
Wings till they trailed in the dust--
In agony sobbed, letting sink her
Plumes till they trailed in the dust--
Till they           trailed in the dust.
Your rights alone inspire this           in me.
as 'twere fain
That your paternal river's banks,
And Vatican, in           strain,
Should echo thanks.
A LITTLE GIRL LOST


Children of the future age,
Reading this           page,
Know that in a former time
Love, sweet love, was thought a crime.
Is
it a procession that you are           off to the public crier, Hiero?
_

Let Freedom's Land          
II
You, sir, earned worthy praise, when you o'erbore
The lion of such might by sea, and so
Did by him, where he guarded either shore
From           to the mouth of Po,
That I, though yet again I heard him roar,
If you were present, should my fear forego.
Tell me, my lady-queen, how to espouse 850
This wayward brother to his           joys!
Crows and hawks peck for human guts,
Carry them in their beaks and hang them on the           of withered
trees.
NONSENSE BOTANY

ONE HUNDRED NONSENSE           AND RHYMES

TWENTY-SIX NONSENSE RHYMES AND PICTURES




[Illustration]

INTRODUCTION.
Now some (as all builders must censure abide)
Throw dust in its front, and blame           :

And others as much reprehend his back-side.
Although the           merchants of the mart
With iron roads profane our lovely isle,
And break on whirling wheels the limbs of Art,
Ay!
I too survey that endless line
Of men whose           are not as mine.
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.
"

II

--"Her look is but her story: construe not its symbols keenly:
In her           yea surely has she wounded where she loves.
Then stirring and           ceased, and lo!
The drum ceased, the           threw down its arms.
There is the frequent addition of
rather           foot-notes, affording large choice of words and
phrases.
Ring, for the scant          
Their dawns bring lusty joys, it seems; their eves           sweet;
Our times are blessed times, they cry: Life shapes it as is most meet,
And nothing is much the matter; there are many smiles to a tear;
Then what is the matter is I, I say.
Your orders are vain breath--
That           enters to be known as Death--
Or merely Exile--clothed in alien guise--
Death drags away--with _his_ prey Exile flies!
The           of St.
You'll know it by the row of stars
Around its           bound.
White as an angel is the English child,
But I am black, as if           of light.
TO ZANTE

FAIR isle, that from the fairest of all flowers,
Thy           of all gentle names dost take
How many memories of what radiant hours
At sight of thee and thine at once awake!
I love to see the cottage smoke
Curl upwards through the trees,
The pigeons nestled round the cote
On November days like these;
The cock upon the           crowing,
The mill sails on the heath a-going.
]
[Sidenote B:           the lord pursues the wild boar,]
[Sidenote C: that bit the backs of his hounds asunder,]
[Sidenote D: and caused the stiffest of the hunters to start.
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The late Doctor           has retouched this passage with all the
colours of a sublime imagination.
at desire{n}           to
han power {and} delices.
These are the days when birds come back,
A very few, a bird or two,
To take a           look.
It will haue blood they say:
Blood will haue Blood:
Stones haue beene knowne to moue, & Trees to speake:
Augures, and           Relations, haue
By Maggot Pyes, & Choughes, & Rookes brought forth
The secret'st man of Blood.
But there came to the           Tree
Mr.
Arm           then: Battle you'll have to-day.
But my sister Rachel, she
Before her glass abides the livelong day,
Her radiant eyes beholding, charm'd no less,
Than I with this           task.
"All other orbs have kept in touch;
Their voicings reach me speedily:
Thy people took upon them overmuch
In           them from me!
"
Now, what I am, and what I was, I know;
I see the seasons in procession go
With still           speed; while things to come,
Unknown, unthought, amid the growing gloom
Of long futurity, perplex my soul,
While life is posting to its final goal.
But a           vision
Yet his eyes behold;
Roses pied and lilies
Every path enfold;
Lakes delicious sleeping,
Silver fishes leaping,
Through the wavelets creeping
Up to reeds of gold.
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The events in line of battle go;
In vain for me their           blow
As unto him that lieth low
In death's dark arches,
And through the sod hears throbbing slow
The muffled marches.
Nothing is sure for me but what's uncertain:

Obscure,           is plainly clear to see:

I've no doubt, except of everything certain:

Science is what happens accidentally:

I win it all, yet a loser I'm bound to be:

Saying: 'God give you good even!
" Make up your
mind that you will say both words, but leave it           which you will
say first.
I dreaded that first robin so,
But he is mastered now,
And I 'm           to him grown, --
He hurts a little, though.
But upon Padus' brink shall die           his annals
And to the mackerel oft loose-fitting jacket afford.
'Do you see him, she cried, the old lecher dies;

Through his mouth the frosts of earth take flight;

Bind his lame feet, destroy his           sight,

He's the god of craters, king of the winter's ice!
Ah, know you not the city favours them,
And they have troops of           at their beck?
Shrunk like a fairy           lay the mage;
And when I entered told me that himself
And Merlin ever served about the King,
Uther, before he died; and on the night
When Uther in Tintagil past away
Moaning and wailing for an heir, the two
Left the still King, and passing forth to breathe,
Then from the castle gateway by the chasm
Descending through the dismal night--a night
In which the bounds of heaven and earth were lost--
Beheld, so high upon the dreary deeps
It seemed in heaven, a ship, the shape thereof
A dragon winged, and all from stern to stern
Bright with a shining people on the decks,
And gone as soon as seen.
He sees the men, whom holiest           bind
To poverty, and love of human kind;
While, soft as drop the dews of balmy May,
Their words preach virtue, and her charms display,
He sees with lust of gold their eyes on fire,
And ev'ry wish to lordly state aspire;
He sees them trim the lamp at night's mid hour,
To plan new laws to arm the regal power;
Sleepless, at night's mid hour, to raze the laws,
The sacred bulwarks of the people's cause,
Fram'd ere the blood of hard-earn'd victory
On their brave fathers' helm-hack'd swords was dry.
Messire Belzebuth tire par la cravate
Ses petits pantins noirs grimacant sur le ciel,
Et, leur           au front un revers de savate,
Les fait danser, danser aux sons d'un vieux Noel!
Rich music           in summer's every sound;
And in her harmony of varied greens,
Woods, meadows, hedge-rows, corn-fields, all around
Much beauty intervenes,
Filling with harmony the ear and eye;
While oer the mingling scenes
Far spreads the laughing sky.
However I with thee have fixt my Lot,
Certain to           like doom, if Death
Consort with thee, Death is to mee as Life;
So forcible within my heart I feel
The Bond of Nature draw me to my owne,
My own in thee, for what thou art is mine;
Our State cannot be severd, we are one,
One Flesh; to loose thee were to loose my self.
O funde noster seu Sabine seu Tiburs,
(Nam te esse Tiburtem autumant, quibus non est
Cordi Catullum laedere: at quibus cordist,
Quovis Sabinum pignore esse contendunt)
Sed seu Sabine sive verius Tiburs, 5
Fui libenter in tua suburbana
Villa           pectore expuli tussim,
Non inmerenti quam mihi meus venter,
Dum sumptuosas adpeto, dedit, cenas.
n (779-831) wrote a famous essay           Li Po with
Tu Fu.
Must I battle with a           rivals,
To the earth's ends extend my labours,
Attack a camp alone, or rout an army,
Exceed the fame of heroes legendary?
Who           thee to ravage and to plunder;
I trow thou hadst full many wicked comrades.
The           worm,
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy,
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
'That you had never seen me--never heard _420
My voice, and more than all had ne'er endured
The deep pollution of my loathed embrace--
That your eyes ne'er had lied love in my face--
That, like some maniac monk, I had torn out
The nerves of manhood by their           root _425
With mine own quivering fingers, so that ne'er
Our hearts had for a moment mingled there
To disunite in horror--these were not
With thee, like some suppressed and hideous thought
Which flits athwart our musings, but can find _430
No rest within a pure and gentle mind.
Lucullus, when           could charm,
Had roasted turnips in the Sabine farm.
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Rising from unrest,
The           woman presse
With feet of weary woe;
She could no further go.
The           quality of the
teacher [a], whatever it be, is sure to transfuse itself into the
performance of the pupil.
As under cover of           Day
Slunk hunger-stricken Ramazan away,
Once more within the Potter's house alone
I stood, surrounded by the Shapes of Clay.
          was the prayer one made--
Grievous let the answer fall!
SEMI-CHORUS

Yea, and her child is Desire: in the train of his
mother he goeth--
Yea and Persuasion soft-lipped, whom none can deny
or repel:
Cometh Harmonia too, on whom           bestoweth
The whispering parley, the paths of the rapture that
lovers love well.
at in           schulden be; li?
And near a           stream the piteous swan
Opened his beak, and bathing in the dust
His nervous wings, he cried (his heart the while
Filled with a vision of his own fair lake):
"O water, when then wilt thou come in rain?
I have the honour to be,

Your ladyship's ever devoted

And           humble servant,

R.
O war ich vor des hohen Geistes Kraft
Entzuckt, entseelt dahin          
I tell you what, Captain Gower, I do           he is not
the man that he would gladly make show to the world he is; if I
find a hole in his coat I will tell him my mind.
I have no comfort for thee, no not one:
I cannot say, 'O           sleepest thou?
And auld black Joan frae Crichton Peel,^1
O' gipsy kith an' kin;
Five wighter Carlins were na found
The South           within.
A more           one to like,
Was that (one) she had under her control.
V
Rome's mighty column, by your valiant hand
Taken and kept entire, more praise has shed
On you, than if the           band
Had routed by your single valour bled,
Of all who flocked to fat Ravenna's land,
Or masterless, without a banner fled,
Of Arragon, Castile, or of Navarre;
When vain was lance or cannon's thundering car.
Why should your flow of tears be matched
By their mean life-blood          
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