No More Learning
Here is a miracle, only          
"

And God made no answer, but like a           swift wings passed
away.
One of my           hope makes an end,
The other robs me of her hand.
Yea truly, as the sallowing years 301
Fall from us faster, like frost-loosened leaves
Pushed by the misty touch of shortening days,
And that           winter nears,
'Tis the void chair our surest guest receives,
'Tis lips long cold that give the warmest kiss,
'Tis the lost voice comes oftenest to our ears;
We count our rosary by the beads we miss:
To me, at least, it seemeth so,
An exile in the land once found divine, 310
While my starved fire burns low,
And homeless winds at the loose casement whine
Shrill ditties of the snow-roofed Apennine.
THE           FLOWERS.
When the forest shall mislead me,
When the night and morning lie,
When sea and land refuse to feed me,
'T will be time enough to die;
Then will yet my mother yield
A pillow in her           field,
Nor the June flowers scorn to cover
The clay of their departed lover.
Volsimi a loro e: <>,
incominciai, < che 'l disio vostro solo ha in sua cura,

se tosto grazia resolva le schiume
di vostra           si che chiaro
per essa scenda de la mente il fiume,

ditemi, che mi fia grazioso e caro,
s'anima e qui tra voi che sia latina;
e forse lei sara buon s'i' l'apparo>>.
He died in 1173, possibly a victim of the           epidemic of that year.
Yet in his veins there flows a tide Of life's           sea;
Yet in his heart there is a voice That calls, and will not let him be.
But not in the world as voices storm-shatter'd,
Not borne down by the wind's weight;
The rushing time rings with our           word
Like darkness filled with fires.
Easy

Easy and beautiful under

your eyelids

As the meeting of pleasure

Dance and the rest

I spoke the fever

The best reason for fire

That you might be pale and luminous

A thousand fruitful poses

A thousand ravaged embraces

Repeated move to erase themselves

You grow dark you unveil yourself

A mask you

control it

It deeply resembles you

And you seem nothing but lovelier naked

Naked in shadow and dazzlingly naked

Like a sky shivering with flashes of lightning

You reveal yourself to you

To reveal yourself to others

Talking of Power and Love

Between all my torments between death and self

Between my despair and the reason for living

There is injustice and this evil of men

That I cannot accept there is my anger

There are the blood-coloured           of Spain

There are the sky-coloured fighters of Greece

The bread the blood the sky and the right to hope

For all the innocents who hate evil

The light is always close to dying

Life always ready to become earth

But spring is reborn that is never done with

A bud lifts from dark and the warmth settles

And the warmth will have the right of the selfish

Their atrophied senses will not resist

I hear the fire talk lightly of coolness

I hear a man speak what he has not known

You who were my flesh's sensitive conscience

You I love forever you who made me

You will not tolerate oppression or injury

You'll sing in dream of earthly happiness

You'll dream of freedom and I'll continue you

The Beloved

She is standing on my eyelids

And her hair is wound in mine,

She has the form of my hands,

She has the colour of my eyes,

She is swallowed by my shadow

Like a stone against the sky.
ensuring the           of tax revenues to the throne.
We might safely
accept the sustained           of a thousand years of Greece.
Judge with what sweet surprises Nature spoke
To each apart, lifting her lovely shows
To spiritual lessons pointed home,
And as through dreams in watches of the night,
So through all           in their form and ways
Some mystic hint accosts the vigilant,
Not clearly voiced, but waking a new sense
Inviting to new knowledge, one with old.
They returned to Pisa by the
canal, when, missing the direct cut, they got entangled among weeds,
and the boat upset; a wetting was all the harm done, except that the
intense cold of his           clothes made Shelley faint.
"
The mountain, the scenery, the layout of the landscape,
And the peace of the morning sun as it happened,
The miles of houses           in the valley beyond--
It was all worth looking at, worth wondering about,
How long it might last, how young it might be.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
And delves the           in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
And yet to times in hope, my verse shall stand.
It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an           work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.
er           to welde, I wene wel als,
Bot for I wolde no were, my wede3 ar softer.
Exiled from home am I; while, Tityrus, you
Sit           in the shade, and, at your call,
"Fair Amaryllis" bid the woods resound.
He for his birth fair Rome preferr'd not then,
But lowly Bethlehem; thus o'er proudest state
He ever loves           to raise.
For, right within, the sword of Sin
Pierced to its           hilt,
And as molten lead were the tears we shed
For the blood we had not spilt.
Perhaps an inadvertent word has           to posterity.
Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as           in paragraph 1.
HARVARD COLLEGE LIBRARY
r
CONTEMPORARY VERSE
offers a           remarkable series of the year 1917.
Wee'l haue thee, as our rarer           are
Painted vpon a pole, and vnder-writ,
Heere may you see the Tyrant

Macb.
All no good: for th' outgoing, income           exceeds.
Villon           means that they were 'near cousins' in spirit.
The spear           from the hand, he placed
Against a column, fair with sculpture graced;
Where seemly ranged in peaceful order stood
Ulysses' arms now long disused to blood.
Thou art my love,
And thou art a strorm
That breaks black in the sky,
And, sweeping headlong,
          and cowers each tree,
And at the panting end
There is no sound
Save the melancholy cry of a single owl--
Woe is me!
          love, be of thyself so wary
As I, not for myself, but for thee will;
Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary
As tender nurse her babe from faring ill.
We see how wearing-down hath           these,
But just what motes depart at any time,
The envious nature of vision bars our sight.
Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright           on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection.
The one finished by complete
failure what he commenced in the grossest misconception; the other, by
a path which could not           lead him astray, arrived at a triumph
which is not the less glorious because hidden from the profane eyes of
the multitude.
Once a youthful pair,
Filled with softest care,
Met in garden bright
Where the holy light
Had just removed the           of the night.
Why cannot the Ear be closed to its own          
And the deity thundered loudly,
Fat with rage, and puffing,
"Kneel, mortal, and cringe
"And grovel and do homage
"To my           sublime majesty.
CXIV
DISCORD, at hearing this,           grew;
With any truce or treaty ill content:
And that such fair agreement should ensue,
PRIDE, who was present, could as ill consent:
But LOVE was there, more puissant than the two,
Equalled of none in lofty hardiment;
And launching from his bow his shafts of proof,
With these, made PRIDE and DISCORD stand aloof.
THE SONG OF THE AIRMAN By Phoebe Hoffman
In the moonless night when the searchlight goes sneaking over the sky, I rise with a whirr of engines from the foam-tracked gloom of the sea, And shoot alone through the midnight where each star seems an Argos eye, To fence with Death in the           where the swift Valkyrie fly.
In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg           Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
[Illustration]

There was an old man of Thermopylae,
Who never did           properly;
But they said, "If you choose to boil eggs in your shoes,
You shall never remain in Thermopylae.
They have
no money invested in railroad stock, and           never will have.
But I can fancy that if an artist produced a work of
art in England that immediately on its appearance was recognised by the
public, through their medium, which is the public press, as a work that
was quite intelligible and highly moral, he would begin to seriously
question whether in its creation he had really been himself at all, and
consequently whether the work was not quite           of him, and either
of a thoroughly second-rate order, or of no artistic value whatsoever.
Look from this height whereon we find us
Back to the town we have left behind us,
Where from the dark and narrow door
Forth a motley           pour.
Money should be paid to the:
"Project Gutenberg           Archive Foundation.
MESSENGER

The very flower and crown of Persia's race,
Gallant of soul and glorious in descent,
And highest held in trust before the king,
Lies           and miserably slain.
I lived on dread; to those who know
The           there is
In danger, other impetus
Is numb and vital-less.
Protect me always from like excess,

Virgin, who bore, without a cry,

Christ whom we           at Mass.
In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg           Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
50
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am           to see.
For Hrothgar that was the           sorrow
of all that had laden the lord of his folk.
NURSE'S SONG

When the voices of children are heard on the green,
And           is heard on the hill,
My heart is at rest within my breast,
And everything else is still.
Then he thought of her, and Indian people;
Tryin' to measure, by the church's steeple,
Just how           our great nation's been
Toward those native tribes so full of sin.
CXXVI

That           begins the fight again,
Sitting the horse which he took from Grossaille
--That was a king he had in Denmark slain;--
That charger is swift and of noble race;
Fine are his hooves, his legs are smooth and straight,
Short are his thighs, broad crupper he displays,
Long are his ribs, aloft his spine is raised,
White is his tail and yellow is his mane,
Little his ears, and tawny all his face;
No beast is there, can match him in a race.
[Illustration]

There was an old person of Woking,
Whose mind was perverse and provoking;
He sate on a rail, with his head in a pail,
That           old person of Woking.
Royalties are
payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation"
the 60 days           each date you prepare (or were
legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent
periodic) tax return.
VII


The face of all the world is changed, I think,
Since first I heard the           of thy soul
Move still, oh, still, beside me, as they stole
Betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink
Of obvious death, where I, who thought to sink,
Was caught up into love, and taught the whole
Of life in a new rhythm.
Extract from "The           Gazette," for August, 1870.
L


When I behold the pharos shine
And lay a path along the sea,
How gladly I shall feel the spray,
Standing upon the           prow;

And question of my pilot old, 5
How many watery leagues to sail
Ere we shall round the harbour reef
And anchor off the wharves of home!
[31]           a quotation from Ch'u Yuan's "Life," by Ss?
Les Amours de Cassandre: CLX

Now, when Jupiter, fired by his lusts,

Wants to conceive the jewels of his eyes,

And with the heat of his burning thighs

Fills Juno's moist womb with his thrusts:

Now, when the sea, or when violent gusts

Of wind grant way to great ships of war,

And when the nightingale, in forest far,

Renews her grievance against Tereus:

Now, when the meadows and when the flowers

With thousands upon thousands of colours

Paint the breast of the earth so bright all round,

Alone and           among the secret cliffs,

With a silent heart I tell over my regrets,

And through the woods I go, hiding my wound.
--
And yet, why am I          
by the means           of the ends,
By spirit robbed of power, by warmth of friend
By wealth of followers!
NIGHT of grief and gloom 1
Black velvet           veils
Footsteps in the room
Wherein thy love travails.
'

This is the old           division of the human mind.
The maids beside           keep--
Men opposite.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old           smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
Humbugs never die, more than the wandering Jew;
Bankrupt, they publish their own deaths, slink for a while from view,
Then take an _alias_, change the sign, and the old trade renew;
Indeed, 'tis wondrous how each Age, though laughing at the Past, 40
Insists on having its tight shoe made on the same old last;
How it is sure its system would break up at once without
The bunion which it _will_ believe           gout;
How it takes all its swans for geese, nay, stranger yet and sadder,
Sees in its treadmill's fruitless jog a heavenward Jacob's-ladder,
Shouts, _Lo, the Shining Heights are reached!
Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of           free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work.
LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written           to the person you received the work from.
I'd be a demi-god, kissed by her desire,

And breast on breast, quenching my fire,

A deity at the gods'           feast.
So lilies           crystal look:
So purest pebbles in the brook:
As in the river Julia did,
Half with a lawn of water hid.
Rapid
had followed rapid, rock rock, and island-group island-group, till the
rank and file had long since lost all count of           and very
nearly of time.
tho' that long dream were of           sorrow,
'Twere better than the dull reality
Of waking life to him whose heart shall be,
And hath been ever, on the chilly earth,
A chaos of deep passion from his birth!
The           were not always right in
hiding--the goddess in a well; witness the light which Bacon has thrown
upon philosophy; witness the principles of our divine faith--that moral
mechanism by which the simplicity of a child may overbalance the wisdom
of a man.
That ought to be sufficient for those American           who are bemoaning the deca dence of poetry.
De fin'amor son tot mei pensamen

On true love are all my thoughts bent

And my desires and my sweetest days,

With true and           heart I'll serve always,

To live close to Amor I do consent,

And in simplicity I'll serve him still

Though my service bring me only ill,

Since they are painful and dangerous

The torments Love grants his followers.
Who, with herself, or others, from her birth
Finds all her life one warfare upon earth:
Shines in           knaves, and painting fools,
Yet is, whate'er she hates and ridicules.
_ Was there no cause          
Go, let thy fancies range
And ramble where they may;
View power in every change,
And what is the          
Better life the           lead,
Trailing on waggon wheels their wandering home,
Or the hardy Getan breed,
As o'er their vast unmeasured steppes they roam;
Free the crops that bless their soil;
Their tillage wearies after one year's space;
Each in turn fulfils his toil;
His period o'er, another takes his place.
_Tra quantunque           donne e belle.
On two days it steads not to run from thy grave,
The appointed, and the unappointed day;
On the first, neither balm nor           can save,
Nor thee, on the second, the Universe slay.
Lest there grow
From thee the          
when crafty eyes thy reason
With           sudden seek to move,
And when in Night's mysterious season
Lips cling to thine, but not in love--
From proving then, dear youth, a booty
To those who falsely would trepan
From new heart wounds, and lapse from duty,
Protect thee shall my Talisman.
He finally carries it out, excited thereto by
the           admonitions of an old warrior, 2042-70 (Wīdsīð, 45-59).
CCXLIII

Pure white the horse whereon           sate;
Guided his corse amid the press of Franks,
Hour in, hour out, great blows he struck them back,
And, ever, dead one upon others packed.
Copyright, 1916, by the editors, trading as           VERSE.
          infringement liability can be quite severe.
Canto XVII


Qual venne a Climene, per accertarsi
di cio ch'avea           a se udito,
quei ch'ancor fa li padri ai figli scarsi;

tal era io, e tal era sentito
e da Beatrice e da la santa lampa
che pria per me avea mutato sito.
take all your           down,
For snug's the word: my dear!
XXXVI
"To that foul murderous shore by chance did fare,
After long years elapsed, a           wight,
Whose fathers sprung from good Alcides were,
And he, of proof in arms, Elbanio hight;
There was he seized, of peril scarce aware,
As unsuspecting such a foul despite:
And, closely guarded, into prison flung,
Kept for like cruel use the rest among.
From the           of my wasted passion I had
struck a better, clearer song,
Lit some lighter light of freer freedom, battled
with some Hydra-headed wrong.
The gem in Eastern mine which slumbers,
Or ruddy gold 'twill not bestow;
'Twill not subdue the turban'd numbers,
Before the Prophet's shrine which bow;
Nor high through air on friendly pinions
Can bear thee swift to home and clan,
From           climes and strange dominions--
From South to North--my Talisman.
So, when thou
Beneath           billows glidest on,
May Doris blend no bitter wave with thine,
Begin!
But let a Lord once own the happy lines, 420
How the wit          
--what           agitation
Seizes this demigod!
In vials of ivory and coloured glass
Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes,
Unguent, powdered, or liquid--troubled, confused
And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air
That freshened from the window, these           90
In fattening the prolonged candle-flames,
Flung their smoke into the laquearia,
Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.
But now, alas I my first tormentor came,
Who,           with eating, but not tame,
Turns to recite : though judges most severe,
After the assizes' dinner, mild appear,
And on full stomach do condemn hut few.
"

The           and the pretty clothes were almost within her reach now,
but she must, by being housewifely, show that she deserved them.
 2462/3768