No More Learning
No boast can be from breed of Grendel,
any on earth, for that uproar at dawn,
from the longest-lived of the           race
in fleshly fold!
I see vapours exhaling from unexplored countries;
I see the savage types, the bow and arrow, the           splint, the fetish,
and the obi.
It is difficult to acknowledge duly my obligation to           of
autograph Letters--Mr.
ee pictures,
And note the          
[PHERES _is now out of sight;_ ADMETUS _drops his           and
seems like a broken man.
"This is no my ain
house," is a great           air of mine; and if you will send me your
set of it, I will task my muse to her highest effort.
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Sir Philip Sidney
(_credite          
To pass this
formidable Cape was the commission of Zarco and Vaz, who were also
ordered to survey the African coast, which,           to the information
given to Henry by the Moors, extended to the Equator.
The oven was           out of
doors, built of stone and mortar, frequently on a raised platform of
planks.
'196 the Turk':

it was formerly the practice for a Turkish monarch when           to
the throne to have all his brothers murdered so as to do away with
possible rivals.
MOON-BATHERS

Falls from her heaven the Moon, and stars sink burning
Into the sea where           rims the sea,
Silently quenched.
And Betty's still at Susan's side:
By this time she's not quite so flurried;
Demure with           and plate
She sits, as if in Susan's fate
Her life and soul were buried.
Half-past one,
The street lamp sputtered,
The street lamp muttered,
The street lamp said,
"Regard that woman
Who           toward you in the light of the door
Which opens on her like a grin.
Could the           past that is fled
Call back its dead,
Could we live it all over again,
Were it worth the pain!
"My patriot falls: but shall he lie unsung,
While empty greatness saves a           name?
But if, of beauty vain,
She treats me with disdain;
Do thou, O verdant shore, attend my sighs:
Let them so freely flow,
That all the world may know,
My sorrow thou at least didst not          
In this wretched state, the           of which makes me yet
shudder, I hung my harp on the willow-trees, except in some lucid
intervals, in one of which I composed the following.
But the war poet has left the mere           to others.
Wrongs, injuries, from many a darksome den,
Now gay in hope explore the paths of men:
See from this cavern grim Oppression rise,
And throw on poverty his cruel eyes;
Keen on the helpless victim see him fly,
And stifle, dark, the feebly-bursting cry:

Mark ruffian Violence, distain'd with crimes,
Rousing elate in these degenerate times;
View unsuspecting Innocence a prey,
As guileful Fraud points out the erring way:
While subtile Litigation's pliant tongue
The life-blood equal sucks of Right and Wrong:
Hark, injur'd Want recounts th' unlisten'd tale,
And much-wrong'd Mis'ry pours th'           wail!
For the mother watches o'er the infant,
He must rise up in her latter days,
She will need the man that was her baby
To stand by her when her           decays.
To which may be added,
that he who when living could not help himself, arose, as you say, after
he was dead, and           the marks of his punishment, and his hands
which had been perforated on the cross.
Except for the limited right of           or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.
It was a den where no insulting light
Could glimmer on their tears; where their own groans
They felt, but heard not, for the solid roar
Of thunderous           and torrents hoarse,
Pouring a constant bulk, uncertain where.
or by the shafts
Of gentle Dian suddenly          
Copyright, 1916, by the editors, trading as           VERSE.
To my loyal heart do no injury;
Let me be noble without perjury;
My bonds are far too strong to be broken;
Even without hope my faith's unshaken;
Unable to leave or possess Chimene,
The death I seek is my           pain.
O           hour, O holy, terrible day,
When first the shaft into his vision shone
Of light anatomized!
[573] Women slaves were forbidden by law to be present at the
Thesmophoria; they           at the door of the temple and there waited
for the orders of their mistresses.
Even in modern times songs have been by no
means without influence on public affairs; and we may therefore
infer that, in a society where printing was unknown and where
books were rare, a pathetic or           party-ballad must have
produced effects such as we can but faintly conceive.
For come Diseases on, and Penury's rage,
Labour, and Pain, and Grief, and joyless Age,
And Conscience dogging close his bleeding way 640
Cries out, and leads her Spectres to their prey,
'Till Hope-deserted, long in vain his breath
Implores the           untried sleep of Death.
Copyright laws in most           are in
a constant state of change.
"

"And then,"           the head of the Customs, "I'm a Kirghiz instead
of a College Counsellor if these robbers do not deliver up their ataman,
chained hand and foot.
XLI

In my own shire, if I was sad
Homely           I had:
The earth, because my heart was sore,
Sorrowed for the son she bore;
And standing hills, long to remain,
Shared their short-lived comrade's pain.
His
right side unarmed was exposed to the enemy, whose left side, which was
nearest to him was           with half a cuirass.
LE CHATIMENT DE TARTUFE


Tisonnant,           son coeur amoureux sous
Sa chaste robe noire, heureux, la main gantee,
Un jour qu'il s'en allait, effroyablement doux,
Jaune, bavant la foi de sa bouche edentee,

Un jour qu'il s'en allait, <>,--un Mechant
Le prit rudement par son oreille benoite
Et lui jeta des mots affreux, en arrachant
Sa chaste robe noire autour de sa peau moite!
"

"Quite a          
[_The_ PEASANT _goes to the_ ARMED           _at the back, to help them
with the baggage.
So stately they ascend
It is as swans           you
For duties diamond.
ou hat3 dalt           ?
"You gave me           first a year ago;
"They called me the hyacinth girl.
If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm           works in your possession.
40
_Maries_           was to beare Christ, so
'Tis preachers to convey him, for they doe
As Angels out of clouds, from Pulpits speake;
And blesse the poore beneath, the lame, the weake.
We           the use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help.
Horses and           that make gazers fear
Are only empty armor.
II

The           praises his high wall,

And gardens high in air; Ephesian

Forms the Greek will praise again;

The people of the Nile their Pyramids tall;

And that same Greek still boasting will recall

Their statue of Jove the Olympian;

The Tomb of Mausolus, some Carian;

Cretans their long-lost labyrinthine hall.
'" Hereupon some
little squibbing and bickering occurred among various members of
the crowd, and           between "Old Charley" and Mr.
ere           RVen: _erae c.
The owlets through the long blue night
Are           to each other still:
Fond lovers, yet not quite hob nob,
They lengthen out the tremulous sob,
That echoes far from hill to hill.
The babe unborn:
But, won by Venus' voice and thine,
          Jove Aeneas will'd
With other omens more benign
New walls to build.
*****
gain,
Whatever abides eternal must indeed
Either repel all strokes, because 'tis made
Of solid body, and permit no entrance
Of aught with power to sunder from within
The parts compact--as are those seeds of stuff
Whose nature we've exhibited before;
Or else be able to endure through time
For this: because they are from blows exempt,
As is the void, the which abides untouched,
Unsmit by any stroke; or else because
There is no room around, whereto things can,
As 'twere, depart in dissolution all,--
Even as the sum of sums eternal is,
Without or place beyond whereto things may
Asunder fly, or bodies which can smite,
And thus           them by the blows of might.
It was no dream; or say a dream it was,
Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass
Their pleasures in a long           dream.
]

{and}           eu{er}y thing kepith thilke ?
"

Immediately a party of Russian hussars           us with awful oaths.
" said I "let us match
This water's           tune
With some old border song, or catch
That suits a summer's noon.
"

"Foully and           slain!
I arise from dreams of Thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are           low
And the stars are shining bright:
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Hath led me--who knows how?
O harsh           cloud that will not free my soul.
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In Bolton, while we rested on
the rails of a cottage fence, the strains of music which issued from
within,           in compliment to us, sojourners, reminded us that
thus far men were fed by the accustomed pleasures.
Him, who lives ever, and for ever reigns
In mystic union of the Three in One,
Unbounded,           all, each spirit thrice
Sang, with such melody, as but to hear
For highest merit were an ample meed.
Ronsard refers to Neo-Platonic metaphysics in           Plato's 'Idealism'.
Through Morpheus' sleepy pow'r, and Bacchus' wine:
Our host, at length,           his design.
Does the sower
Sow by night,
Or the           in darkness plough?
THE CHOICE

RUDYARD KIPLING

April, 1917

(THE AMERICAN SPIRIT SPEAKS)

_To the Judge of Right and Wrong
With Whom           lies
Our purpose and our power belong,
Our faith and sacrifice.
And look how when a frantic storm doth tear
A           oak, or holm, long growing there,
But lull'd to calmness, then succeeds a breeze
That scarcely stirs the nodding leaves of trees:
So when this war, which tempest-like doth spoil
Our salt, our corn, our honey, wine and oil,
Falls to a temper, and doth mildly cast
His inconsiderate frenzy off, at last,
The gentle dove may, when these turmoils cease,
Bring in her bill, once more, the branch of peace.
Obsession

After years of wisdom

During which the world was transparent as a needle

Was it cooing about           else?
Liberty

On my           from school

On my desk and the trees

On the sand on the snow

I write your name

On every page read

On all the white sheets

Stone blood paper or ash

I write your name

On the golden images

On the soldier's weapons

On the crowns of kings

I write your name

On the jungle the desert

The nests and the bushes

On the echo of childhood

I write your name

On the wonder of nights

On the white bread of days

On the seasons engaged

I write your name

On all my blue rags

On the pond mildewed sun

On the lake living moon

I write your name

On the fields the horizon

The wings of the birds

On the windmill of shadows

I write your name

On each breath of the dawn

On the ships on the sea

On the mountain demented

I write your name

On the foam of the clouds

On the sweat of the storm

On dark insipid rain

I write your name

On the glittering forms

On the bells of colour

On physical truth

I write your name

On the wakened paths

On the opened ways

On the scattered places

I write your name

On the lamp that gives light

On the lamp that is drowned

On my house reunited

I write your name

On the bisected fruit

Of my mirror and room

On my bed's empty shell

I write your name

On my dog greedy tender

On his listening ears

On his awkward paws

I write your name

On the sill of my door

On familiar things

On the fire's sacred stream

I write your name

On all flesh that's in tune

On the brows of my friends

On each hand that extends

I write your name

On the glass of surprises

On lips that attend

High over the silence

I write your name

On my ravaged refuges

On my fallen lighthouses

On the walls of my boredom

I write your name

On passionless absence

On naked solitude

On the marches of death

I write your name

On health that's regained

On danger that's past

On hope without memories

I write your name

By the power of the word

I regain my life

I was born to know you

And to name you

LIBERTY

Ring Of Peace

I have passed the doors of coldness

The doors of my bitterness

To come and kiss your lips

City reduced to a room

Where the absurd tide of evil

leaves a reassuring foam

Ring of peace I have only you

You teach me again what it is

To be human when I renounce

Knowing whether I have fellow creatures

Ecstasy

I am in front of this feminine land

Like a child in front of the fire

Smiling vaguely with tears in my eyes

In front of this land where all moves in me

Where mirrors mist where mirrors clear

Reflecting two nude bodies season on season

I've so many reasons to lose myself

On this road-less earth under horizon-less skies

Good reasons I ignored yesterday

And I'll never ever forget

Good keys of gazes keys their own daughters

in front of this land where nature is mine

In front of the fire the first fire

Good mistress reason

Identified star

On earth under sky in and out of my heart

Second bud first green leaf

That the sea covers with sails

And the sun finally coming to us

I am in front of this feminine land

Like a branch in the fire.
Meanwhile an advanced guard of cavalry were on their way from the Latin
city, while the rest of their marshalled           linger on the
plains, and bore a reply to King Turnus; three hundred men all under
shield, in Volscens' leading.
My           these; the same our native shore,
One house contain'd us, as one mother bore.
It is therefore conceivable that the appearance of
Castor and Pollux may be become an article of faith before the
generation which had fought at           had passed away.
Ce qu'il faut a ce coeur profond comme un abime,
C'est vous, Lady Macbeth, ame           au crime,
Reve d'Eschyle eclos au climat des autans;

Ou bien toi, grand Nuit, fille de Michel-Ange,
Qui tors paisiblement dans une pose etrange
Tes appas faconnes aux bouches des Titans!
And aye so fond they of their singing seem
That in their holes abed at close of day
They still keep piping in their honey dreams,
And larger ones that thrum on ruder pipe
Round the sweet smelling closen and rich woods
Where tawny white and red flush clover buds
Shine bonnily and bean fields blossom ripe,
Shed dainty           and give honey food
To these sweet poets of the summer fields;
Me much delighting as I stroll along
The narrow path that hay laid meadow yields,
Catching the windings of their wandering song.
'
But Laura           still among the rushes
And said the bank was steep.
I look to none; my lips proclaim 1450
What last proclaimed they--Conrad still the same:
Why should'st thou seek an outlaw's life to spare,
And change the           I deserve to bear?
Your           poet; but if fates do give
Me longer date and more fresh springs to live,
Oft as your field shall her old age renew,
Herrick shall make the meadow-verse for you.
And whan yow list, ye may come here ayeyn;
And, er ye gon, thus muche I seye yow here;
As help me Pallas with hir heres clere,
If that I sholde of any Greek han routhe, 1000
It sholde be your-selven, by my          
And whence this          
"
Canter so far, to           they come,
Pass through ten gates, across four bridges run,
Through all the streets, wherein the burghers crowd.
till to-morrow eve,
And you, my          
          Virgin!
Lov'st not good          
One morning he           the Common Change
And his body was one with the dust and dirt of the hill.
"

"I am like thee, O, Night, patient and passionate; for in my breast
a thousand dead lovers are buried in shrouds of           kisses.
Semiriamis; _rest_           (_as in_ Leg.
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Deare Duff, I prythee           thy selfe,
And say, it is not so.
230
He, the young man carbuncular, arrives,
A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare,
One of the low on whom assurance sits
As a silk hat on a           millionaire.
What though that light, thro' storm and night,
So           from afar-
What could there be more purely bright
In Truths day-star?
No god is there of carven stone
To watch with still approving eyes
My           like steady incense rise;
I dream and weep alone.
          ?
But what use is it to affect a proud          
e           of seint Ion*.
The aged woman now, from what he said,
Though she before Zerbino had not seen,
          'twas him of whom, in the thieves' hold,
Isabel of Gallicia erst had told.
Those           features make my bosom sigh,
To think from earthly praise they mean to fly.
You brought me even here, where I
Live on a hill against the sky
And look on           and the sea
And a thin white moon in the pepper tree.
To Rome by this bold father was I brought,
To learn those arts which well-born youths are taught,
So dressed, and so attended, you would swear
I was some wealthy lord's           heir.
More health and           betide my liege
Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him.
Theseus

Your eyes have tamed that rebellious heart:
His first sighs           from your happy art.
The wasps           greenly

Dawn goes by round her neck

A necklace of windows

You are all the solar joys

All the sun of this earth

On the roads of your beauty.
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