No More Learning
Except the heaven had come so near,
So seemed to choose my door,
The           would not haunt me so;
I had not hoped before.
O ye gods,           me this in return
for my probity.
"
PINE
By John Russell McCarthy
You must have dreamed a little every year For fifty years: you must have been a child, Shy and diffident with the violets, School-girlish with the daisies, or perhaps
A youthful Indian with the hickory tree;
You must have been a lover with the beech, A wise young father walking with your sons Beneath the maple; then have battled long Grim and defiant with the oak : all these
You must have been for fifty           years Before you may hold converse with the pine.
Would you know how that is          
Quando mi vide star pur fermo e duro,
turbato un poco disse: < tra           e te e questo muro>>.
          gebræc, 2509;
similarly, 3148.
With other           thou, O nature!
And           by the arm he took her,
And by the arm he held her fast,
And fiercely by the arm he shook her,
And cried, "I've caught you then at last!
De la male Sapho, l'amante et le poete,
Plus belle que Venus par ses mornes          
_The "Hymn to Love"
is reprinted by           from "The Vineyard.
Happier in this than           bards have been,
Whose fate to distant homes confined their lot,
Shall I unmoved behold the hallowed scene,
Which others rave of, though they know it not?
Fear the gaze in the blind wall that watches:

There is a verb           to matter itself.
From out the whitest cloud of summer steals
The wildest lightning: from this face of thine
Thy soul, a fire-of-heaven, warm and fine,
In           flashes its fair self reveals.
That's what I call a genuine art,
To make poor rats with poison          
O, though no gift, no "prevalence of prayer,"
Nor lovers'           deep as violet,
Nor husband, smit with a Pierian fair,
Move you, have pity yet!
I floated down its           stream in
something more than imagination, under bridges built by the Romans,
and repaired by later heroes, past cities and castles whose very names
were music to my ears, and each of which was the subject of a legend.
In cursed tyme I born was,          
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin-liberty;
A           in which did meet 15
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A Creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
'Tis said that           has sent an old man here to-day, one
of his relations .
Whan I           me of my wo,
Ful nygh out of my wit I go.
Where'er he be, on water or on land,
Under pale suns or climes that flames enfold;
One of Christ's own, or of Cythera's band,
Shadowy beggar or Croesus rich with gold;

Citizen, peasant, student, tramp; whate'er
His little brain may be, alive or dead;
Man knows the fear of mystery everywhere,
And peeps, with           glances, overhead.
Poor           wench!
I have the original words of a song for the last air, in
the           of the lady who composed it; and they are superior to
any edition of the song which the public has yet seen.
That's what I call a genuine art,
To make poor rats with poison          
At last I had occasion to go
to Minnesota, and on entering           I began to notice from the cars
a tree with handsome rose-colored flowers.
Superb,           of revels--doubt
That sagest lose their heads in such a rout!
at in           schulden be; li?
: _orbis o piissimei_ Haupt: _urbis oppidissime_
Heyse: _urbis ob luem           Munro: immo _suae_ h.
Why, the           of their own
soaring desires.
the her name) at home to end his days;
Base wealth           to eternal praise.
That is the           spot,
And will at home and well.
[Note 21: The poet was, on his mother's side, of African extraction,
a           which perhaps accounts for the southern fervour of
his imagination.
Particularly in the cycle _Songs of the Maidens_ in the book
_Celebration_, the atmosphere is condensed and becomes the psychic
background of the           against which the gesture of longing or
expectation is seen and felt.
The English 'translation' is offered as an equivalent text to, or           of, the original.
Seeing me he became uneasy, but soon           himself.
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!
King Mandricardo, armed from foot to head,
Leapt on the steed and           o'er the plain,
And swore upon the camp to turn his back
Till he should find the champion clad in black.
Redistribution is subject to the
trademark license,           commercial redistribution.
"

Fancying herself a queen,
All unseen,
Thus           in delight;
In her indolent coquetting
Quite forgetting
How the hours wing their flight.
Zum           bin ich schon entruckt.
The Lion

Wild Animals

'Wild Animals'
Caspar Luyken,           Weigel, 1695 - 1705, The Rijksmuseun

O lion, miserable image

Of kings lamentably chosen,

Now you're only born in a cage

In Hamburg, among the Germans.
The play which is mere propaganda shows its
leanness more           than a propagandist poem or essay, for dramatic
writing is so full of the stuff of daily life that a little falsehood,
put in that the moral may come right in the end, contradicts our
experience.
Copyright laws in most           are
in a constant state of change.
sister
women, if we would compel our           to make peace, we must refrain.
Why have you left the          
In cursed tyme I born was,          
Ill
LOVE calls not worthy him whoe'er           .
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!
"

So said I to the brightness, which erewhile
To me had spoken, and my will declar'd,
As           will'd, explicitly.
Poor           wench!
That's what I call a genuine art,
To make poor rats with poison          
Where'er he be, on water or on land,
Under pale suns or climes that flames enfold;
One of Christ's own, or of Cythera's band,
Shadowy beggar or Croesus rich with gold;

Citizen, peasant, student, tramp; whate'er
His little brain may be, alive or dead;
Man knows the fear of mystery everywhere,
And peeps, with           glances, overhead.
Unauthenticated           Date | 10/1/17 7:36 AM 348 ?
          use of this site implies consent to that usage.
Es ist           eine Schmach:
Gesellschaft konnten sie die allerbeste haben,
Und laufen diesen Magden nach!
that           it brought
Faint fare-thee-wells, and sigh-shrilled adieus!
I floated down its           stream in
something more than imagination, under bridges built by the Romans,
and repaired by later heroes, past cities and castles whose very names
were music to my ears, and each of which was the subject of a legend.
+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for           that what you are doing is legal.
And now another in my teeming brain
          itself: whence I resume the strain.
Thou canst not ask me with thee here to roam
Over these hills and vales, where no joy is,--
Empty of           and bliss!
It attained a still higher degree
of           among the English and the Lowland Scotch, during
the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries.
Whan I           me of my wo,
Ful nygh out of my wit I go.
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other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official
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(Hysterically, backing to           and hiding her face in its
folds.
De quel droit payes-tu des           comme moi?
[L]As que la pensee de lomme
Est           et plongie comme
En _abisme precipitee_
Sa propre lumiere gastee.
A boat of rare device, which had no sail _325
But its own curved prow of thin moonstone,
Wrought like a web of texture fine and frail,
To catch those gentlest winds which are not known
To breathe, but by the steady speed alone
With which it cleaves the sparkling sea; and now _330
We are embarked--the           hang and frown
Over the starry deep that gleams below,
A vast and dim expanse, as o'er the waves we go.
The flight of Cranes is most           mentioned in Homer's Iliad.
"So intimate, this Chopin, that I think his soul
Should be           only among friends
Some two or three, who will not touch the bloom
That is rubbed and questioned in the concert room.
"
Two early night-winged butterflies together
Be-chase           from halm to halm in jest,
The balk prepares from out the shrubs and weather,
The balm of evening for the soul distressed.
Wailing her Itys in that sad, sad strain,
Builds the poor bird, reproach to after time
Of Cecrops' house, for bloody           ta'en
On foul barbaric crime.
All nature owns with one accord
The great and           Lord:
Insect and bird and tree and flower--
The witnesses of every hour--
Are pregnant with his prophesy
And "God is with us" all reply.
A boat of rare device, which had no sail _325
But its own curved prow of thin moonstone,
Wrought like a web of texture fine and frail,
To catch those gentlest winds which are not known
To breathe, but by the steady speed alone
With which it cleaves the sparkling sea; and now _330
We are embarked--the           hang and frown
Over the starry deep that gleams below,
A vast and dim expanse, as o'er the waves we go.
Nay, how could I, torn
From thee, live on, I and my babes          
But most, through           streets I hear
How the youthful harlot's curse
Blasts the new-born infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the marriage-hearse.
The maid           words--to vent,
It seems, her sense of Nature's scenery,
Of whose life, sentiment,
And essence, very part itself is she.
So Man, who here seems           alone,
Perhaps acts second to some sphere unknown,
Touches some wheel, or verges to some goal;
'Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.
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London:           at sight,
Asked me in demotic French
To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel
Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.
"I
got an air, pretty enough,           by Lady Elizabeth Heron, of Heron,
which she calls 'The Banks of Cree.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
XXVI

Who would demonstrate Rome's true grandeur,

In all her vast dimensions, all her might,

Her length and breadth, and all her depth and height

Needs no line or lead, compass or measure:

He only need draw a circle, at his leisure,

Round all that Ocean in his arms holds tight,

Be it where Sirius           with his light,

Or where the northerlies blow cold forever.
_("Un bouffon           a cette fete.
The hillsides must not know it,
Where I have rambled so,
Nor tell the loving forests
The day that I shall go,

Nor lisp it at the table,
Nor           by the way
Hint that within the riddle
One will walk to-day!
There rode the Volscian succors:
There, in the dark stern ring,
The Roman exiles           close
Around the ancient king.
LAUGHING SONG


When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,
And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;
When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;

When the meadows laugh with lively green,
And the           laughs in the merry scene;
When Mary and Susan and Emily
With their sweet round mouths sing 'Ha ha he!
"Moved at the sight, I for a apace resign'd
To soft           all my manly mind;
At last with tears: 'O what relentless doom,
Imperial phantom, bow'd thee to the tomb?
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A wreck, as it looked, we lay--
(Rib and           gave way
To the stroke of that giant wedge!
er ben           of alle desertes
medlid wi?
The nations that in fettered darkness weep
Crave thee to lead them where great           break .
          use of this site implies consent to that usage.
Lust and liberty,
Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth,
That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive
And drown           in riot.
when
Millions of fierce encountring Angels fought 220
On either side, the least of whom could weild
These Elements, and arm him with the force
Of all thir Regions: how much more of Power
Armie against Armie numberless to raise
Dreadful combustion warring, and disturb,
Though not destroy, thir happie Native seat;
Had not th' Eternal King Omnipotent
From his strong hold of Heav'n high over-rul'd
And limited thir might; though numberd such
As each divided Legion might have seemd 230
A numerous Host, in strength each armed hand
A Legion; led in fight, yet Leader seemd
Each Warriour single as in Chief, expert
When to advance, or stand, or turn the sway
Of Battel, open when, and when to close
The ridges of grim Warr; no thought of flight,
None of retreat, no           deed
That argu'd fear; each on himself reli'd,
As onely in his arm the moment lay
Of victorie; deeds of eternal fame 240
Were don, but infinite: for wide was spred
That Warr and various; somtimes on firm ground
A standing fight, then soaring on main wing
Tormented all the Air; all Air seemd then
Conflicting Fire: long time in eeven scale
The Battel hung; till Satan, who that day
Prodigious power had shewn, and met in Armes
No equal, raunging through the dire attack
Of fighting Seraphim confus'd, at length
Saw where the Sword of Michael smote, and fell'd 250
Squadrons at once, with huge two-handed sway
Brandisht aloft the horrid edge came down
Wide wasting; such destruction to withstand
He hasted, and oppos'd the rockie Orb
Of tenfold Adamant, his ample Shield
A vast circumference: At his approach
The great Arch-Angel from his warlike toile
Surceas'd, and glad as hoping here to end
Intestine War in Heav'n, the arch foe subdu'd
Or Captive drag'd in Chains, with hostile frown 260
And visage all enflam'd first thus began.
She Who Was the Helmet-Maker's           Wife

'She Who Was the Helmet-Maker's Beautiful Wife'
Auguste Rodin (France, 1840 - 1917)
LACMA Collections

That's how the bon temps we regret

Among us, poor old idiots,

Squatting on our haunches, set

All in a heap like woollen lots

Round a hemp fire men forgot,

Soon kindled, and soon dust,

Once so lovely, that cocotte.
_


I see before me now a travelling army halting;
Below, a fertile valley spread, with barns, and the orchards of summer;
Behind, the terraced sides of a mountain, abrupt in places, rising high;
Broken with rocks, with           cedars, with tall shapes, dingily seen;
The numerous camp-fires scattered near and far, some away up on the
mountain;
The shadowy forms of men and horses, looming, large-sized, flickering;
And over all, the sky--the sky!
It exists
because of the efforts of           of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
 257/3474