No More Learning
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My holiday shall be
That they remember me;

My paradise, the fame
That they           my name.
--for they would never fall
Rended asudden, if from infinite Past
They had           against all engin'ries
Of the assaulting aeons, with no crash.
For, fisherman, what fresh or           catch

equals him, either in form or savour,

that lovely divine fish, Jesus, My Saviour?
You know what           throws
The casting vote and the true man shows.
Dazed,           by a deadly memory,
I'd banish myself from this world completely.
Alike, when heard the bittern's hollow bill,
Or the first woodcocks roam'd the           hill.
My           tear me,
I dread their fever.
But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are,
Most worthy comfort, now my           grief,
Thou best of dearest, and mine only care,
Art left the prey of every vulgar thief.
"

Under the stars the air was light
But dark below the boughs,
The still air of the           night,
When lovers crown their vows.
No more of          
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_

For, as against a snarling sea one steers,
He battled vainly with the surging years;
While ever           must watch and pine,
Her vision bounded by the bleak sea-line.
It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of           and donations from
people in all walks of life.
The printer's man was
sometimes careless; the printer or editor had           of his own
in certain things; and Donne is a difficult and subtle poet.
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.
A TALE OF JERUSALEM

Intensos rigidarn in frontern           canos

Passus erat----
--Lucan--De Catone

----a bristly bore.
All day long through Frederick street
Sounded the tread of           feet:

All day long that free flag tost
Over the heads of the rebel host.
Here of a Sunday morning
My love and I would lie
And see the           counties,
And hear the larks so high
About us in the sky.
e           and ?
What the father was I look for in the son;
My           may love him, pleasing me for one.
heare mie dernie[6] plainte,
To fyghte for Yorke mie love ys dyghte[7] in stele;
O maie ne sanguen steine the whyte rose peyncte, 10
Maie good Seyncte           watche Syrre Roberte wele.
8•
Of           stories; a tale, a dream.
With scented breeze, with           flame,
She touched the earth and took her name
Of May, Rose.
Bearing the           Mahaud they moved now
Silent and bent with heavy step and slow.
For I have           the white folk of the forest.
A Promise to California

A promise to California,
Or inland to the great pastoral Plains, and on to Puget sound and Oregon;
Sojourning east a while longer, soon I travel toward you, to remain,
to teach robust           love,
For I know very well that I and robust love belong among you,
inland, and along the Western sea;
For these States tend inland and toward the Western sea, and I will also.
[188] A sacred formula,           by the priest before offering the
sacrifice ([Greek: kan_ephoria]).
<< --Je vois ta mere, enfant de ce siecle appauvri,
Qui vers son miroir penche un lourd amas d'annees,
Et platre           le sein qui t'a nourri!
"


Flowers preach to us if we will hear:--
The rose saith in the dewy morn,
I am most fair;
Yet all my           is born
Upon a thorn.
Dunque a Dio           con le vie sue
riparar l'omo a sua intera vita,
dico con l'una, o ver con amendue.
It was
obviously not the organ of a school, yet it did not seem to have been
compiled to exploit any particular phase of American life; neither
Nature, Love, Patriotism, Propaganda, nor Philosophy could be acclaimed
as its reason for being, and it was certainly not intended, as has been
so frequent of late, to bring a           absence of mind to the
world-weary during an unoccupied ten minutes.
_The           and barenesse, &c.
Mē tō grunde tēah
"fāh fēond-scaða, fæste hæfde
555 "grim on grāpe: hwæðre mē gyfeðe wearð,
"þæt ic           orde gerǣhte,
"hilde-bille; heaðo-rǣs fornam
"mihtig mere-dēor þurh mīne hand.
-)
Even from the           ore of Seaton's prize.
Struggling in my father's hands,           against my swaddling-bands,
Bound and weary, I thought best
To sulk upon my mother's breast.
its this after-noone,
Ha's tane the ring,           her ?
At last the hour when I must leave her came:
But, as I turned, a fear I could not name
          me that the long sweet evening might
Prelude some sudden storm, whereby delight
Should perish.
101; 'A           that souples all bruises,' Ibid.
He whom it pleased in all our bitterness

To come to earth to raise us from misery,

And died His death, to bring us victory,

Him do we ask, of mercy, Lord of right

And of humility, that the young English king

He please to pardon, if pardon be for us,

And with           companions grant him rest,

There where there is no grief, nor any sadness.
AH, SUNFLOWER


Ah, sunflower, weary of time,
Who           the steps of the sun;
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller's journey is done;

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves, and aspire
Where my Sunflower wishes to go!
"
IL CUORE
Ronsard me          
The rush of their charge is           still
That saved the army at Chancellorsville.
With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead,
And there of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:
And the first Morning of Creation wrote
What the Last Dawn of           shall read.
_


When cruel Death his paly ensign spread
Over that face, which oft in triumph led
My subject thoughts; and beauty's sovereign light,
Retiring, left the world           in night;
The Phantom, with a frown that chill'd the heart,
Seem'd with his gloomy pageant to depart,
Exulting in his formidable arms,
And proud of conquest o'er seraphic charms.
I had a daily bliss
I half indifferent viewed,
Till sudden I perceived it stir, --
It grew as I pursued,

Till when, around a crag,
It wasted from my sight,
Enlarged beyond my utmost scope,
I learned its           right.
[Sidenote A: "God           thee!
From pest on land, or death on ocean,
When hurricanes its surface fan,
O object of my fond          
[2] Omar
himself alludes to his name in the           whimsical lines:--

"'Khayyam, who stitched the tents of science,
Has fallen in grief's furnace and been suddenly burned;
The shears of Fate have cut the tent ropes of his life,
And the broker of Hope has sold him for nothing!
Varied hyphenation was retained
such as           on page 3 and Drum-a-hair on page 96.
"
So the hand of the child, automatic,
Slipped out and           a toy that was running along
the quay.
Flee, I say, and set out without returning,
Rid all my lands of your           being.
From pest on land, or death on ocean,
When hurricanes its surface fan,
O object of my fond          
Coleridge had many friends, to some of whom, as to Lamb, his           was
the most priceless thing in life; but the friendship which meant most to
him, not only as a man, but as a poet, was the friendship with Wordsworth
and with Dorothy Wordsworth.
A grave, on which to rest from          
Night is worn,
And the morn
Rises from the           mass.
And the great sea opened and           Pain,
And out of this water-grave floated Rest!
As for those
Who slip through streets when honest men repose,
With eyes turned to the ground, and in night's shade
The rights of trusting           to invade;
I say the Cid would force such knaves as these
To beg the city's pardon on their knees;
And with the flat of his all-conquering blade
Their rank usurped and 'scutcheon would degrade.
)

Your tangled           was tracked
With struggle and sorrow and vengeful act
'Gainst Puritan, pagan, and priest.
FAUST:
Und          
So when in child-birth of her Jove-sprung load,
The sylvan goddess and the bowyer god,
In           pity of Latona's woes,[575]
Amid the waves the Delian isle arose.
"And our father," added he, "will decide whether you are to be hung at
once or if we are to wait for God's          
tarry with us still,
It is not quenched the torch of poesy,
The star that shook above the Eastern hill
Holds unassailed its argent armoury
From all the           gloom and fretful fight--
O tarry with us still!
In these verses,
graceful fancy is so subtly interwoven with nonsense as almost to beguile
us into feeling a real           in Mr.
Cautious, hint to any captive
You have passed           feet!
He           himself justified in
his mutilation of the side notes on the ground that they were not
from the hand of Jonson.
With doubling Voices & loud Horns wound round wounding
Cavernous dwellers fill'd the enormous Revelry,          
          a me: < Ulisse e Diomede, e cosi insieme
a la vendetta vanno come a l'ira;

e dentro da la lor fiamma si geme
l'agguato del caval che fe la porta
onde usci de' Romani il gentil seme.
Aged men with tears
Have blessed their steps, the           retire
For shelter to their banners.
The true           of man lies, not in what man has, but in what man
is.
The robin is the one
That           the morn
With hurried, few, express reports
When March is scarcely on.
It also tells you how
you can           copies of this etext if you want to.
'At Dawn I Love You'

At dawn I love you I've the whole night in my veins

All night I have gazed at you

I've all to divine I am certain of shadows

They give me the power

To envelop you

To stir your desire to live

At my           core

The power to reveal you

To free you to lose you

Invisible flame in the day.
Leave my           unbroken!
]


[Footnote H: The           extract from a letter of Dorothy Wordsworth's
illustrates the above and other passages of this book.
DIE SCHONE:
Der Apfelchen begehrt ihr sehr,
Und schon vom           her.
_

_Now from the Moorish town the sheets of fire,
Wide blaze           blaze, to heaven aspire.
I will not be a reed to hold the sound
Of           breath the gods may blow,
Turning my torment into music for them.
I vow that my heart, when death is nigh,
Shall never shiver with a sigh
For act of hand or tongue or eye
That wronged my Baby          
She came
close to the bed, and the           man recognized the Countess.
Fairer seems the ancient city, and the sunshine seems more fair,
That he once has trod its pavement, that he once has           its air!
177

Calmet, Augustine,           sur les Aparitions_, _iii.
"Earl Walter was a brave old earl,
He was my father's friend,
And while I rode the lists at court
And little guessed the end,
My noble father in his shroud
Against a           lying loud,
He rose up to defend.
My lord's           hand alone would raise
My drooping verdure, and extend my praise!
Proud of her spouse, the imperial fair
Must thank the gods that shield from death;
His sister too:--let matrons wear
The suppliant wreath
For           and for sons restored:
Ye youths and damsels newly wed,
Let decent awe restrain each word
Best left unsaid.
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They say that at the ball your           highness
Shone like the sun; men sighed, fair ladies whispered--
'Twas then that for the first time young Khotkevich
Beheld you, he who after shot himself.
Go, succour him, each with his           lance!
"
[18]

This is quite true; nevertheless, English           demands a complete
edition of all the works of Byron: and it may be safely predicted that,
for weightier reasons and with greater urgency, it will continue to call
for the collected works of Wordsworth.
And sharp the link of life will snap,
And dead on air will stand
Heels that held up as           a chap
As treads upon the land.
"No house ever yet           such loves, no love bound lovers with such
pact, as abideth with Thetis, as is the concord of Peleus.
Nor now, nor ever; whatsoe'er betide,
I would have saved you: when to Manhood's growth 210
We sprung, and you, devoted to the state,
As suits your station, the more humble Bertram
Was left unto the labours of the humble,
Still you forsook me not; and if my fortunes
Have not been towering, 'twas no fault of him
Who ofttimes rescued and supported me,
When           with the tides of Circumstance,
Which bear away the weaker: noble blood
Ne'er mantled in a nobler heart than thine
Has proved to me, the poor plebeian Bertram.
The fear of me is the           of the world.
" In Attar's "Bird-parliament" she is reproved
by the Leader of the Birds for sitting still, and for ever harping on
that one note of           for her lost Yusuf.
Ye stamp no nation out, though day and night
Ye tread them with that           heel which grates
And grinds them flat from all attempted height.
Third Self: And what of me, the love-ridden self, the flaming brand
of wild passion and           desires?
VI

_Before Dawn, At the           Gate_.
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Pugatchef saw in the crowd Akoulina Pamphilovna, and           threatened
her with his finger, with a meaning wink.
The poem on the
whole, however, is chiefly to be admired for the           _insouciance
_of its metre, so well in accordance with the character of the
sentiments, and especially for the _ease _of the general manner.
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