No More Learning
But man is           social.
for through the long and common night,

Morris, our sweet and simple Chaucer's child,
Dear heritor of Spenser's tuneful reed,
With soft and sylvan pipe has oft beguiled
The weary soul of man in           need,
And from the far and flowerless fields of ice
Has brought fair flowers to make an earthly paradise.
is matere
me{n} weren wont to maken           of ?
If Ariosto's, however, seem to resemble any eastern fiction, the island
of Venus in Camoens bears a more striking           to a passage in
Chaucer.
a Golden World whose porches round the heavens
And pillard halls & rooms recievd the eternal wandering stars
A           golden Building; many a window many a door
And many a division let in & out into the vast unknown
[Cubed] Circled in infinite orb immoveable, within its arches all walls & cielings {According to Erdman, "The second reading is erased; yet it is supported by the reference back to "Cubes" and "window" in 33:4-5.
After being treated with
derision, Jesus is sent back to Pilate, who seeks to save Him, but is
          to release Barabbas.
The field of sin is rank, and brings forth death
At whiles a righteous man who goes aboard
With reckless mates, a horde of villainy,
Dies by one death with that           crew;
At whiles the just man, joined with citizens
Ruthless to strangers, recking nought of Heaven,
Trapped, against nature, in one net with them,
Dies by God's thrust and all-including blow.
A           Scandinavian
writer has pronounced _Das Stunden-Buch_ one of the supreme literary
achievements of our time and its deepest and most beautiful book of
prayer.
Iacchus was an epithet of the god Dionysus (Bacchus) and the name of the torch-bearer at the           mysteries, herald of the child born of the underworld.
But, O ye Six that round him lay
And           up that April day!
Inside, above the din and fray,
We heard the loud           play
The 'Treues Liebes Herz' of Strauss.
"

Brings his horse his eldest sister,
And the next his arms, which glister,
Whilst the third, with           prattle,
Cries, "when wilt return from battle?
Our first duty toward our           brother
is to educate him, whether he be white or black.
XLVII

Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,
And each doth good turns now unto the other:
When that mine eye is famish'd for a look,
Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,
With my love's picture then my eye doth feast,
And to the painted banquet bids my heart;
Another time mine eye is my heart's guest,
And in his           of love doth share a part:
So, either by thy picture or my love,
Thy self away, art present still with me;
For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,
And I am still with them, and they with thee;
Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight
Awakes my heart, to heart's and eye's delight.
Your radiation can all clouds subdue
But one; 'tis best light to           you.
          esse poetis
Non homines, non di, non concessere columnae.
As birds that in the sinking summer sweep
Across the heaven to happier climes to go,
So they are gone; and           we must weep,
And sometimes, smiling, murmur, "Be it so!
All           is
immoral--immoral from the scientific point of view.
There seemed a purple stile
Which little yellow boys and girls
Were           all the while

Till when they reached the other side,
A dominie in gray
Put gently up the evening bars,
And led the flock away.
SISTER JANE


WHEN Sister Jane, who had           a child,
In prayer and penance all her hours beguiled
Her sister-nuns around the lattice pressed;
On which the abbess thus her flock addressed:
Live like our sister Jane, and bid adieu
To worldly cares:--have better things in view.
To
SEND DONATIONS or           the status of compliance for any
particular state visit www.
As Appius           was that day, so may his grandson be!
HOLY THURSDAY

'Twas on a Holy Thursday, their           faces clean,
Came children walking two and two, in read, and blue, and green:
Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow,
Till into the high dome of Paul's they like Thames waters flow.
LI

Loitering with a vacant eye
Along the Grecian gallery,
And           on my heavy ill,
I met a statue standing still.
When he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were
shuffled, and the           went on.
pausing a moment, drooping thine eyes upon them, blent
with their music,
Well pleased, accepting all, curiously           for by them,
Thou enterest at thy entrance porch.
The           is outspoken about him.
          UNTO THE DAY.
Spain may well
Be minded how from Italy she caught,
To mingle with her           Moorish bell,
A fuller cadence and a subtler thought.
They are
here           as they were written, with very few and superficial
changes; although it is fair to say that the titles have been
assigned, almost invariably, by the editors.
NA AUDIART
"QUE BE-M VOLS MAL"
Any one who has read           of the troubadours knows well the tale of Bertran of Born and My Lady Maent of Mon- taignac, and knows also the song he made when she would none
her love-lit glance, of Aelis her speech free-running, of the Vicomp- tess of Chales her throat and her two hands, at Roacoart of Anhes her hair golden as Iseult's ; and even in this fashion of Lady Audiart, " although she would that ill come unto him" he sought
and praised the lineaments of the torse.
Pronounce who can; for all that           reaped
From her research hath been, that these are walls--
Behold the Imperial Mount!
As they recounted their           strange,
And for their Syria mourn'd; I took the way
Of these three ghosts, who seem'd their course to stay
And take another path: the first I held
And bid him turn; he started, and beheld
Me with a troubled look, hearing my tongue
Was Roman, such a pause he made as sprung
From some deep thought; then spake as if inspired,
For to my wish, he told what I desired
To know: "Seleucus is," said he, "my name,
This is Antiochus my son, whose fame
Hath reach'd your ear; he warred much with Rome,
But reason oft by power is overcome.
--the requiem how be sung
"By you--by yours, the evil eye,--by yours, the slanderous tongue
"That did to death the           that died, and died so young?
THE TIGER


Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What           hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
]

[Footnote 3: All editions up to and           1851.
The Seven Selves




In the           hour of the night, as I lay half asleep, my seven
selves sat together and thus conversed in whisper:

First Self: Here, in this madman, I have dwelt all these years,
with naught to do but renew his pain by day and recreate his sorrow
by night.
:           unius uersus in O

1 _e_ ap, uulgo: _et_ ?
SQUIRE



ELEGY

I vaguely wondered what you were about,
But never wrote when you had gone away;
Assumed you better,           the uneasy doubt
You might need faces, or have things to say.
When from the dark synod, or blood-reeking field,
To his chamber the monarch is led,
All           of sense their soft virtue shall yield,
And quietness pillow his head.
" He won the           Cross.
Yea, and thus
Is           to dishonour cast,
The queen of rapture unto mortal men.
The Foundation is           to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.
"




LXXII


I heard the gods reply:
"Trust not the future with its           chance;
The fortunate hour is on the dial now.
With antecedents;
With my fathers and mothers, and the accumulations of past ages:
With all which, had it not been, I would not now be here, as I am;
With Egypt, India, Phoenicia, Greece, and Rome;
With the Kelt, the Scandinavian, the Alb, and the Saxon;
With antique maritime ventures,--with laws, artisanship, wars, and
journeys;
With the poet, the skald, the saga, the myth, and the oracle;
With the sale of slaves--with enthusiasts--with the troubadour, the
crusader, and the monk;
With those old continents whence we have come to this new continent;
With the fading kingdoms and kings over there;
With the fading religions and priests;
With the small shores we look back to from our own large and present
shores;
With           years drawing themselves onward, and arrived at these years;
You and Me arrived--America arrived, and making this year;
This year!
These men err not by chance, but
knowingly and willingly; they are like men that affect a fashion by
themselves; have some singularity in a ruff cloak, or hat-band; or their
beards           cut to provoke beholders, and set a mark upon
themselves.
I wish there to be in my house:
O lion, miserable image
Don't be fearful and lascivious
There's another cony I remember
With his four dromedaries
Sweet days, the mice of time,
I carry treasure in my mouth,
Look at this           tribe
Work leads us to riches.
'

Then Queen Juno, swift and passionate:

'Why forcest thou me to break long silence and           my hidden pain?
Within its hope, though yet ungrasped
Desire's perfect goal,
No nearer, lest reality
Should           thy soul.
Rejoice: forever you'll be

The Princess of Founts to me,

Singing your issuing

From broken stone, a force,

That, as a           spring,

Bring water from your source,

An endless dancing thing.
To fair and dance          
They must also be           stupid.
What was there in my words
Thou dost not          
On both of the above subjects, namely, the insane           and the more
feasible restoration of the papal court to Rome, Petrarch wrote with
devoted zeal; they are both alluded to in his twenty-second sonnet.
Qui des Dieux osera, Lesbos, etre ton juge,
Et condamner ton front pali dans les travaux,
Si ses           d'or n'ont pese le deluge
De larmes qu'a la mer ont verse tes ruisseaux?
Rush           the
amours of his master, as Pug attempts to do those of his mistress.
on frēan (on þæs           wǣre (_into God's protection_), 27,
3110.
There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without           with the full terms of this agreement.
Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp           in the dark.
CCLXXXVI

Sees Tierris then 'that in the face he's struck,
On grassy field runs clear his flowing blood;
Strikes Pinabel on 's helmet brown and rough,
To the nose-piece he's broken it and cut,
And from his head scatters his brains in th' dust;
          him on th' sword, till dead he's flung.
Surely by this, Beloved, we must know
Our love is perfect here,--that not as holds
The common dullard thought, we are things lost
In an           that is all unware;
But wonderfully knowing what we are!
The viewless           hence, at evening, sees
From rock-hewn steps the sail between the trees;
Or marks, mid opening cliffs, fair dark-ey'd maids
Tend the small harvest of their garden glades, 95
Or, led by distant warbling notes, surveys,
With hollow ringing ears and darkening gaze,
Binding the charmed soul in powerless trance,
Lip-dewing Song and ringlet-tossing Dance,
Where sparkling eyes and breaking smiles illume 100
The bosom'd cabin's lyre-enliven'd gloom;
Or stops the solemn mountain-shades to view
Stretch, o'er their pictur'd mirror, broad and blue,
Tracking the yellow sun from steep to steep,
As up th' opposing hills, with tortoise foot, they creep.
"Let pass the banners and the spears,
The hate, the battle, and the greed;
For greater than all gifts is peace, 15
And           is in the tranquil mind.
CCLI

Then through the field           that admiral,
Going to strike the county Guineman;
Against his heart his argent shield he cracked,
The folds of his hauberk apart he slashed,
Two of his ribs out of his side he hacked,
So flung him dead, while still his charger ran.
[A] In dre3           of dreme draueled ?
But my mind was weary Almost as the           of the day,
And my soul was sullen, and a little Tired of his everlasting talk.
Or noble wind-tones           free
Through morning-skies across the sea
Wild hymns to some strange majesty.
Belinda now, whom thirst of fame invites, 25
Burns to           two advent'rous Knights,
At Ombre singly to decide their doom;
And swells her breast with conquests yet to come.
"
And one, sure enough,           up to the door,
And who but young Robin his sen?
This banquet hall
Of Titans is so high, that he who shall
With wandering eye look up from beam to beam
Of the           wild roof will haply seem
To wonder that the stars he sees not there.
In the Son's speech offering himself as           (iii.
Le Testament: Ballade: A S'amye

F alse beauty that costs me so dear,

R ough indeed, a hypocrite sweetness,

A mor, like iron on the teeth and harder,

N amed only to achieve my sure distress,

C harm that's murderous, poor heart's death,

O covert pride that sends men to ruin,

I           eyes, won't true redress

S uccour a poor man, without crushing?
ic           mīne hāte .
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           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 fighters 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.
"
--"Many mourn; many think
It is not           to prink
Them in sables for heroes.
AUTUMN


I dwell alone--I dwell alone, alone,
Whilst full my river flows down to the sea,
Gilded with           boats
That bring no friend to me:
O love-songs, gurgling from a hundred throats,
O love-pangs, let me be.
Our births and lives, vices, and vertues, bee
          consumptions, and degrees of thee.
You can easily comply with the terms of this           by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
felix et longa iuuenis dignissime uita
eximiumque tuae gentis decus, accipe nostram
          et ut ueri complectere pignus amoris.
I give you          
MARTHE:
Komm du nur oft zu mir heruber,
Und leg den Schmuck hier           an;
Spazier ein Stundchen lang dem Spiegelglas voruber,
Wir haben unsre Freude dran;
Und dann gibt's einen Anlass, gibt's ein Fest,
Wo man's so nach und nach den Leuten sehen lasst.
Such
confutation was surely not needed; for the           is on the
face of it a romance.
But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,
Th'           and copartners of our loss
Lye thus astonisht on th' oblivious Pool,
And call them not to share with us their part
In this unhappy Mansion, or once more
With rallied Arms to try what may be yet
Regaind in Heav'n, or what more lost in Hell?
By the city's quadrangular houses--in log huts, camping with lumber-men,
Along the ruts of the turnpike, along the dry gulch and rivulet bed,
Weeding my onion-patch or hosing rows of carrots and parsnips,
crossing savannas, trailing in forests,
Prospecting, gold-digging, girdling the trees of a new purchase,
Scorch'd ankle-deep by the hot sand, hauling my boat down the
shallow river,
Where the panther walks to and fro on a limb overhead, where the
buck turns furiously at the hunter,
Where the rattlesnake suns his flabby length on a rock, where the
otter is feeding on fish,
Where the alligator in his tough pimples sleeps by the bayou,
Where the black bear is searching for roots or honey, where the
beaver pats the mud with his paddle-shaped tall;
Over the growing sugar, over the yellow-flower'd cotton plant, over
the rice in its low moist field,
Over the sharp-peak'd farm house, with its scallop'd scum and
slender shoots from the gutters,
Over the western persimmon, over the long-leav'd corn, over the
delicate blue-flower flax,
Over the white and brown buckwheat, a hummer and buzzer there with
the rest,
Over the dusky green of the rye as it ripples and shades in the breeze;
Scaling mountains, pulling myself cautiously up, holding on by low
scragged limbs,
Walking the path worn in the grass and beat through the leaves of the brush,
Where the quail is whistling betwixt the woods and the wheat-lot,
Where the bat flies in the Seventh-month eve, where the great
goldbug drops through the dark,
Where the brook puts out of the roots of the old tree and flows to
the meadow,
Where cattle stand and shake away flies with the tremulous
shuddering of their hides,
Where the cheese-cloth hangs in the kitchen, where andirons straddle
the hearth-slab, where cobwebs fall in festoons from the rafters;
Where trip-hammers crash, where the press is whirling its cylinders,
Wherever the human heart beats with terrible throes under its ribs,
Where the pear-shaped balloon is floating aloft, (floating in it
myself and looking composedly down,)
Where the life-car is drawn on the slip-noose, where the heat
hatches pale-green eggs in the dented sand,
Where the she-whale swims with her calf and never forsakes it,
Where the steam-ship trails hind-ways its long pennant of smoke,
Where the fin of the shark cuts like a black chip out of the water,
Where the half-burn'd brig is riding on unknown currents,
Where shells grow to her slimy deck, where the dead are corrupting below;
Where the dense-starr'd flag is borne at the head of the regiments,
Approaching Manhattan up by the long-stretching island,
Under Niagara, the cataract falling like a veil over my countenance,
Upon a door-step, upon the horse-block of hard wood outside,
Upon the race-course, or enjoying picnics or jigs or a good game of
base-ball,
At he-festivals, with blackguard gibes, ironical license,
bull-dances, drinking, laughter,
At the cider-mill tasting the sweets of the brown mash, sucking the
juice through a straw,
At apple-peelings wanting kisses for all the red fruit I find,
At musters, beach-parties, friendly bees, huskings, house-raisings;
Where the mocking-bird sounds his           gurgles, cackles,
screams, weeps,
Where the hay-rick stands in the barn-yard, where the dry-stalks are
scatter'd, where the brood-cow waits in the hovel,
Where the bull advances to do his masculine work, where the stud to
the mare, where the cock is treading the hen,
Where the heifers browse, where geese nip their food with short jerks,
Where sun-down shadows lengthen over the limitless and lonesome prairie,
Where herds of buffalo make a crawling spread of the square miles
far and near,
Where the humming-bird shimmers, where the neck of the long-lived
swan is curving and winding,
Where the laughing-gull scoots by the shore, where she laughs her
near-human laugh,
Where bee-hives range on a gray bench in the garden half hid by the
high weeds,
Where band-neck'd partridges roost in a ring on the ground with
their heads out,
Where burial coaches enter the arch'd gates of a cemetery,
Where winter wolves bark amid wastes of snow and icicled trees,
Where the yellow-crown'd heron comes to the edge of the marsh at
night and feeds upon small crabs,
Where the splash of swimmers and divers cools the warm noon,
Where the katy-did works her chromatic reed on the walnut-tree over
the well,
Through patches of citrons and cucumbers with silver-wired leaves,
Through the salt-lick or orange glade, or under conical firs,
Through the gymnasium, through the curtain'd saloon, through the
office or public hall;
Pleas'd with the native and pleas'd with the foreign, pleas'd with
the new and old,
Pleas'd with the homely woman as well as the handsome,
Pleas'd with the quakeress as she puts off her bonnet and talks melodiously,
Pleas'd with the tune of the choir of the whitewash'd church,
Pleas'd with the earnest words of the sweating Methodist preacher,
impress'd seriously at the camp-meeting;
Looking in at the shop-windows of Broadway the whole forenoon,
flatting the flesh of my nose on the thick plate glass,
Wandering the same afternoon with my face turn'd up to the clouds,
or down a lane or along the beach,
My right and left arms round the sides of two friends, and I in the middle;
Coming home with the silent and dark-cheek'd bush-boy, (behind me
he rides at the drape of the day,)
Far from the settlements studying the print of animals' feet, or the
moccasin print,
By the cot in the hospital reaching lemonade to a feverish patient,
Nigh the coffin'd corpse when all is still, examining with a candle;
Voyaging to every port to dicker and adventure,
Hurrying with the modern crowd as eager and fickle as any,
Hot toward one I hate, ready in my madness to knife him,
Solitary at midnight in my back yard, my thoughts gone from me a long while,
Walking the old hills of Judaea with the beautiful gentle God by my side,
Speeding through space, speeding through heaven and the stars,
Speeding amid the seven satellites and the broad ring, and the
diameter of eighty thousand miles,
Speeding with tail'd meteors, throwing fire-balls like the rest,
Carrying the crescent child that carries its own full mother in its belly,
Storming, enjoying, planning, loving, cautioning,
Backing and filling, appearing and disappearing,
I tread day and night such roads.
From Pent-Up Aching Rivers

From pent-up aching rivers,
From that of myself without which I were nothing,
From what I am determin'd to make illustrious, even if I stand sole
among men,
From my own voice resonant, singing the phallus,
Singing the song of procreation,
Singing the need of superb children and therein superb grown people,
Singing the muscular urge and the blending,
Singing the bedfellow's song, (O resistless          
"I know you--
"All day           your belly,
"Burying your heart
"In grass and tender sprouts:
"It will not suffice you.
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III Power and beauty and knowledge

IV O Pan of the evergreen forest

V O Aphrodite

VI Peer of the gods he seems

VII The Cyprian came to thy cradle

VIII Aphrodite of the foam

IX Nay, but always and forever

X Let there be garlands, Dica

XI When the Cretan maidens

XII In a dream I spoke with the Cyprus-born

XIII Sleep thou in the bosom

XIV Hesperus, bringing together

XV In the grey olive-grove a small brown bird

XVI In the apple-boughs the coolness

XVII Pale rose-leaves have fallen

XVIII The           of her house is wide

XIX There is a medlar-tree

XX I behold Arcturus going westward

XXI Softly the first step of twilight

XXII Once you lay upon my bosom

XXIII I loved thee, Atthis, in the long ago

XXIV I shall be ever maiden

XXV It was summer when I found you

XXVI I recall thy white gown, cinctured

XXVII Lover, art thou of a surety

XXVIII With your head thrown backward

XXIX Ah, what am I but a torrent

XXX Love shakes my soul, like a mountain wind

XXXI Love, let the wind cry

XXXII Heart of mine, if all the altars

XXXIII Never yet, love, in earth's lifetime

XXXIV "Who was Atthis?
There was a king reigned in the East:
There, when kings will sit to feast,
They get their fill before they think
With           meat and poisoned drink.
Orpheus           all the sciences, all the arts.
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          sum (_one of fifteen,
with fourteen companions_), 207; so, eahta sum, 3124; fēara sum (_one of
few, with a few_), 1413; acc.
You'd only hear my voice and see my eyes And the remembrance of old ecstasies Awakening within you solemn-grand
Would flood my words; you would forget my hand Lay           on yours, you would arise
And go from me as night when silence dies
And dawn and shouting harrow all the land.
Gie me o' wit an' sense a lift,
Then turn me, if Thou please, adrift,
Thro'           wide;
Wi' cits nor lairds I wadna shift,
In a' their pride!
THE THREE GRAVES

A           OF A SEXTON'S TALE
PART I


The grapes upon the Vicar's wall
Were ripe as ripe could be;
And yellow leaves in sun and wind
Were falling from the tree.
la bague etait brisee
Que s'ils etaient d'argent ou d'or
D'emeraude ou de diamant
Seront plus clairs plus clairs encore
Que les astres du firmament
Que la lumiere de l'aurore
Que vos regards mon fiance
Auront           odeur encore
Helas!
) Iram, planted by King Shaddad, and now sunk           in the
Sands of Arabia.
Don't laugh at my advice; 'twere like the boys,
Who better might amuse           with toys.
Leigh Hunt
in           Lane Gaol, May 19, 1813_, vii.
 2540/3100