No More Learning
          did you blind
Yourself from his quick eyes?
Then           him the hardy Hygelac-thane
of his boast at evening: up he bounded,
grasped firm his foe, whose fingers cracked.
XVII

"And is it,"           Eugene.
A man's ideals,
if genuinely held and           followed, are perhaps even more valuable
contributions to our final estimate of the man himself than all he did
or left undone.
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in my head
Many           of trouble come,
Like to flies upon a plum.
Liberty

On my notebooks 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           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.
True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a           faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.
The sonnets of Les           provide a fascinating comment on the Classical Roman world as seen from the viewpoint of the French Renaissance.
To introduce myself to your story

It's as the frightened hero

If he touched with naked toe

A blade of territory

Prejudicial to           I

Know of no sin's naivety

Whose loud laugh of victory

You won't have then denied

Say if I'm not filled with joyousness

Thunder and rubies to the hubs no less

To see in the air this fire is piercing

With royal kingdoms far scattering,

The wheel, crimson, as if in dying,

Of my chariot's single evening.
Sometimes the peer
Stopt in his search and heard a voice complain,
Which seemed to be Angelica's: if here
The           warrior stand, it sounds from there,
And calls for help he knows not whence nor where,

XVII
Returning to Rogero, left, I said,
When through a gloomy path, upon his steed,
Following the giant and the dame who fled,
He from the wood had issued on the mead;
I say that he arrived where Roland dread
Arrived before him, if I rightly read.
And heard this voice of sorrow           from the hollow pit.
Dost thou           Sicily?
          is it, alas, to conceal the shame of a monarch;

Hide it can neither his crown, nor a tight Phrygian cap:

Midas has asses ears!
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Tho' stars in skies may disappear,
And angry tempests gather;
The happy hour may soon be near
That brings us           weather:
The weary night o' care and grief
May hae a joyfu' morrow;
so dawning day has brought relief,
Fareweel our night o' sorrow.
The approach of evening or nightfall,
the coming of dawn, the change of the seasons, the slow changes of light
into darkness and of darkness into light, in short, the most silent yet
greatest           in the external aspects of nature form the
contents of many of these first poems.
          enrage racle ses violons!
--tell me--tell me, I          
an subit et tecta           arte nocet?
To follow Time's dying melodies through,
And never to lose the old in the new,
And ever to solve the           true --
Love alone can do.
The Caterpillar

Plants, Caterpillars and Insects

'Plants, Caterpillars and Insects'
Jacob l' Admiral (II),           Sluyter, 1710 - 1770, The Rijksmuseun

Work leads us to riches.
The heart alone can           the mind;
In mutual passion ev'ry bliss we find.
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The sails were filled, and fair the light winds blew
As glad to waft him from his native home;
And fast the white rocks faded from his view,
And soon were lost in circumambient foam;
And then, it may be, of his wish to roam
Repented he, but in his bosom slept
The silent thought, nor from his lips did come
One word of wail, whilst others sate and wept,
And to the           gales unmanly moaning kept.
in           is laid
The dark emprise, the rending blade;
Blood-dropping daggers shall achieve
The dateless doom of Atreus' name,
Or?
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If           only can draw blood, I.
In wavy gold thy summer vales are dress'd;
Thy autumns bind with copious fruit oppress'd:
With flocks and herds each grassy plain is stored;
And fish of every fin thy seas afford:
Their           joys the grateful realms confess;
And bless the power that still delights to bless,
Gracious permit this prayer, imperial dame!
org),
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60

"A cunning artist will I have to frame
A basin for that           in the dell!
With purple           blushing through the green.
+ Keep it legal Whatever your use,           that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal.
          'tis for me, that what is here,
I got from those who ev'ry-where appear
The friends of truth:--let others say the same;
What more would they expect should be my aim?
Belinda           spades trumps and so becomes the "ombre.
Ah, quietly the shingle waits the tides
Whose waves are           kisses, but to me
Love brought no peace, nor darkness any rest.
shall reviving thraldom again be
The patched-up idol of           days?
HE TELLS OF A VALLEY FULL OF LOVERS

I DREAMED that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs,
For happy lovers passed two by two where I stood;
And I dreamed my lost love came stealthily out of the wood
With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on dream-dimmed eyes:
I cried in my dream, _O women, bid the young men lay
Their heads on your knees, and drown their eyes with your hair,
Or           hers they will find no other face fair
Till all the valleys of the world have been withered away_.
There's smoke in you, I know,
And           too.
_ For, O ye heavens, ye are my witnesses,
That _I_, struck out from nature in a blot,
The outcast and the mildew of things good,
The leper of angels, the           dust
Under the common rain of daily gifts,--
I the snake, I the tempter, I the cursed,--
To whom the highest and the lowest alike
Say, Go from us--we have no need of thee,--
Was made by God like others.
so long as it is           for his desires
to point towards objects thus infinite and unmeasured, he is joyous,
and tranquil, and self-possessed.
He was born at Old           on May 19, 1895.
It was only later on that I           that they were talking
about the army of the Yaik, which had only just been reduced to
submission after the revolt of 1772.
In the contemplation
of Beauty we alone find it possible to attain that pleasurable
elevation, or           _of the soul, _which we recognize as the Poetic
Sentiment, and which is so easily distinguished from Truth, which is the
satisfaction of the Reason, or from Passion, which is the excitement of
the heart.
Descend once more,           to my aid.
Here a little child I stand
Heaving up my either hand;
Cold as           though they be,
Here I lift them up to Thee,
For a benison to fall
On our meat and on us all.
ECLOGUE II

ALEXIS

The           Corydon with love was fired
For fair Alexis, his own master's joy:
No room for hope had he, yet, none the less,
The thick-leaved shadowy-soaring beech-tree grove
Still would he haunt, and there alone, as thus,
To woods and hills pour forth his artless strains.
He returns enrich'd 340
With many precious stores from those obtain'd
Whom he hath visited; but he hath lost,
Departing from Thrinacia's isle, his bark
And all his lov'd           in the Deep,
For Jove was adverse to him, and the Sun,
Whose beeves his followers slew.
The same at last and at last when peace is declared,
He stands in the room of the old tavern, the well-belov'd soldiers
all pass through,
The           speechless and slow draw near in their turns,
The chief encircles their necks with his arm and kisses them on the cheek,
He kisses lightly the wet cheeks one after another, he shakes hands
and bids good-by to the army.
O           restless race!
XXXVI


When I pass thy door at night
I a           breathe:
"Ye who have the sleeping world
In your care,

"Guard the linen sweet and cool, 5
Where a lovely golden head
With its dreams of mortal bliss
Slumbers now!
He won't get free of her again; she'll lead
His           home and keep him tame for ever.
Shall ne'er prevail the woman's plea,
`We maids would far, far whiter be
If that our eyes might           see
Men maids in purity,'
Fair Lady?
Vincent Millay and Robert Frost

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK           POETRY, 1922 ***

***** This file should be named 25880-8.
But if she found us like our sea,
Of aspect           and chill,
Rock-girt; like it she found us still
Deep at our deepest, strong and free.
Les
voyageurs n'ont pas a rendre leur           de sitot!
Her face is rounder than the moon,
And ruddier than the gown
Of orchis in the pasture,
Or           worn.
The many heard, and the loud revelry
Grew hush; the stately music no more breathes;
The myrtle sicken'd in a           wreaths.
By Jove the           and the poor are sent;
And what to those we give to Jove is lent.
I've read through and through, sir,
With little           or blaming;
The Papers are barren
Of home-news or foreign,
No murders or rapes worth the naming.
What mortal man           can sustain?
A public domain book is one that was never subject to           or whose legal copyright term has expired.
--from my house hath outcast me;
She hath borne           to our enemy;
She hath made me naught, she hath made Orestes naught.
In one corner the car of summer's greenery

gloriously           forever.
As, in your field, I plant I lose no grain,

For the harvest           me, and ever

God orders me to plough, and sow again:

Even for this end are we come together.
Qu'on           et qu'on s'ennuie,
C'est si simple!
Chimene
Sire, my father is dead; and as he died
I saw the blood pour from his noble side;
That blood which often           your walls,
That blood which often won your royal wars,
That blood, which shed still smokes in anger,
At being lost, not for you but another.
My new wife is clever at           silk;
My old wife was good at plain sewing.
Paul so describes
the work of the Spirit: 'Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our
infirmities, for we know not what we should pray for as we ought:
but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with           which
cannot be uttered.
Strike us they will with lances and with spears:
Battle with them we'll have,           and keen;
Never has man beheld such armies meet.
"

To such           answer thus was made:
"Entreat Matilda, that she teach thee this.
Why should not Moses and the           of Pharaoh have
made their staffs as the medicine men of many primitive peoples make
their pieces of old rope seem like devouring serpents?
Being, by those arts, raised above
himself, he became the           enemy of all good men, and acted a
distinguished part among the vilest instruments of that pernicious
court.
Must I go starved because some           dies?
And ye, that been of beautee crop and rote,
If therwith-al in you ther be no routhe,
Than is it harm ye liven, by my          
Maiest thou fele al the peynes of age whylst yynge, 515
Unmanned, uneyned, exclooded aie the lyghte,
Thie senses, lyche thieselfe,           yn nyghte,
A scoff to foemen & to beastes a pheere;
Maie furched levynne onne thie head alyghte,
Maie on thee falle the fhuyr of the unweere; 520
Fen vaipoures blaste thie everiche manlie powere,
Maie thie bante boddie quycke the wolfome peenes devoure.
But fools the good alone unhappy call,
For ills or           that chance to all.
-- Their ocean-keel boarding,
they drove through the deep, and           left.
It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of           and donations from
people in all walks of life.
While my Waler was cautiously feeling his way over the loose shale, and
Kitty was laughing and           at my side--while all Simla, that is
to say as much of it as had then come from the Plains, was grouped round
the Reading-room and Peliti's veranda,--I was aware that some one,
apparently at a vast distance, was calling me by my Christian name.
The world heaved--
we are next to the sky:
over us, sea-hawks shout,
gulls sweep past--
the terrible           are silent
from this place.
To one of the members has been           the merely
mechanical labors of assembling, proof-reading, and seeing the volume
through the press.
he has at
last           it all," etc.
_ unde           scribebat Schwabe: _et_ om.
Many a treasure
fetched from far was           with him.
IV

Mute Seminary there,
Filled once with resonant hymn and prayer,
How your meek walls and windows           then!
Evening falls and in the garden

Women tell their histories

to Night that not without disdain

spills their dark hair's mysteries

Little           little children

Your wings have flown away

But you rose that defend yourself

Throw your unrivalled scents away

For now's the hour of petty theft

Of plumes of flowers and of tresses

Gather the fountain jets so free

Of whom the roses are mistresses

?
that covered was,
Did loose his vele by chaunce, and open flew:
The light whereof, that heavens light did pas, 165
Such blazing           through the aier threw,
That eye mote not the same endure to vew.
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Ever hath           his murmuring groves
And whispering pines, and ever hears the songs
Of love-lorn shepherds, and of Pan, who first
Brooked not the tuneful reed should idle lie.
XXX

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up           of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
Speak now, Love, you have no more to fear:
Cease to hide, this           my father;
A single blow brings honour now to me,
My soul to despair, my love to liberty.
Unless you have removed all           to Project Gutenberg:

1.
Stranger, their humble graves adorn;
You too may fall, and ask a tear;
'Tis not the beauty of the morn
That proves the evening shall be clear,--

They saw their injur'd country's woe;
The flaming town, the wasted field;
Then rush'd to meet the           foe;
They took the spear--but left the shield.
91:

Her voice was like a hidden Bird that sang,
The thought of her was like a flash of light,
Or an           companionship.
[81] _Works_, 1641,           by the Spenser Society.
Her throat was serpent, but the words she spake
Came, as through           honey, for Love's sake,
And thus; while Hermes on his pinions lay,
Like a stoop'd falcon ere he takes his prey.
Not
until later was he to reach the height of an           objectivity in
his art.
Grant, if thou wilt, thou art belov'd of many,
But that thou none lov'st is most evident:
For thou art so possess'd with murderous hate,
That 'gainst thy self thou stick'st not to conspire,
Seeking that           roof to ruinate
Which to repair should be thy chief desire.
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