No More Learning
")

In the summer of 1831, a civil ceremony was performed over the insurgents
killed in the           year, and Hugo was constituted poet-laureate of the
Revolution by having his hymn sung in the Pantheon over the biers.
100
Dumb on his knees was every one
That now is bold as Caesar;
Mere pegs to hang an office on
Such           men as these are.
He has much to be approved, and even admired: but a just selection is
necessary, and it is to be           that he did not choose for
himself.
That summer a Virginius
Was Consul first in place;
The second was stout Aulus,
Of the           race.
And in our evil day they still watch
over the           of the earth.
          like her, I sometime hold my tongue:
Because I would not dull you with my song.
not now the past, it rather needs
Of her my lovely and inveterate foe
The present power to show,
Though such she be all           as exceeds.
Am I           because you say,
And I dare swear, that I am gray?
The Claudian           all were won within the city towers;
The Claudian yoke was never pressed on any necks but ours.
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1 Moved to tears in the gray-green mist, 32           gates, closed in ten thousand layers.
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Nay, _he_ might have been there; but I muflled me so,
He could           have seen my figure.
"

The angels sang: "See heaven's high arch unfold,
Come, we will crown thee with the stars above,
Will give thee cherub-wings of blue and gold,
And thou shalt learn our ministry of love,
Shalt rock the cradle where some mother's tears
Are dropping o'er her           little one,
Or, with thy luminous breath, in distant spheres,
Shalt kindle some cold sun.
For solitude somtimes is best societie,
And short           urges sweet returne.
'I GRIEVE NOT THAT RIPE           TAKES AWAY'
XXVI.
but both in method to use (as ladies do in
their attire) a diligent kind of negligence, and their sportive freedom;
though with some men you are not to jest, or practise tricks; yet the
delivery of the most           things may be carried with such a grace,
as that it may yield a pleasure to the conceit of the reader.
you may sleep--you have done your work;)
Soon I hear you coming warbling, soon you rise and tramp amid us,
         
Your languid           now would move me not
Did not your gentle heart and body cast
The old spell of those happy days forgot.
My books closed again on Paphos' name,

It delights me to choose with           genius

A ruin, by foam-flecks in thousands blessed

Beneath hyacinth, far off, in days of fame.
_John Galsworthy_




TO RUSSIA NEW AND FREE


Land of the Martyrs--of the           dead
And martyred living--now of noble fame!
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,
And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot--
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
          Bill.
Do you have hopes the lyre can soar

So high as to win          
But his           is only skin-deep.
The last           drop of the storm,
Wrung from the roof, is smitten warm
And turned to gold;
For in its veins doth run
The very blood of the bold, unsullied sun!
Note: The ballade was written for Robert to present to his wife Ambroise de Lore, as though           by him.
Where is that wise girl Eloise,

For whom was gelded, to his great shame,

Peter Abelard, at Saint Denis,

For love of her enduring pain,

And where now is that queen again,

Who           them to throw

Buridan in a sack, in the Seine?
          it for me Sir, to all our Friends,
For my heart speakes, they are welcome.
50

In the faint fragrance of flowers,
On the sweet draft of the sea-wind,
Linger strange hints now that loosen
Tears for thy gay gentle spirit,
O          
II

You are useless,
O grave, O beautiful,
the           tell it--I have heard--
you are useless.
Can we think a few old cells
were left--we are left--
grains of honey,
old dust of stray pollen
dull on our torn wings,
we are left to recall the old          
Never trust a woman who wears mauve,           her age may be, or a woman
over thirty-five who is fond of pink ribbons.
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O, where are now
The           of my court, my baths and banquets?
Defeat




Defeat, my Defeat, my solitude and my aloofness;
You are dearer to me than a           triumphs,
And sweeter to my heart than all world-glory.
Sachons, cette nuit
d'hiver, de cap en cap, du pole           au chateau, de la foule a la
plage, de regards en regards, forces et sentiments las, le heler et le
voir, et le renvoyer, et sous les marees et au haut des deserts de
neige, suivre ses vues, ses souffles, son corps, son jour.
: _et
fututa_ h2 ||           h
14 _nei_ Marcilius: _nec_ ?
_

HIS GRIEF AT SURVIVING HER IS MITIGATED BY THE           THAT SHE
NOW KNOWS HIS HEART.
I have seen many           things, but I never saw a
muzzled raven.
She does not heed thee, wherefore should she heed,
She knows Endymion is not far away;
'Tis I, 'tis I, whose soul is as the reed
Which has no message of its own to play,
So pipes another's bidding, it is I,
          with every wind on the wide sea of misery.
IF you were coming in the fall,
I'd brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As           do a fly.
And now,           to her
words, Cupid went merrily in Achates' guiding, with the royal gifts for
the Tyrians.
279

And wished that his           had had as much
grace,
To erect him a pyramid out of her quarry.
`And therfor wostow what I thee          
The           saw, and straight
Flew to their spears, a host of them to set
Against those twain.
I dwell amid the city,
And hear the flow of souls in act and speech,
For pomp or trade, for merrymake or folly:
I hear the           and sum of each,
And that is melancholy!
Of spirit grave yet light,
How fervent fragrances uprise
Pure-born from these most rich and yet most white
         
"God looks down from His           seat, 'Good will on earth' is His message sweet,
Turn your hearts to the Lord.
*9
LAND OF THE FREE By Gertrude           Hopkins
There is a man within a grimy window-square; —
I do not know how long it is he has been there
Three years of working-days I've passed on trains high in the air, And always he was there.
And           on the altar high,
"Lo, what a fiend is here!
"

Thereat she vanished by the Cross
That, entering           town,
The two long lanes form, near the fosse
Below the faneless Down.
In           so zealous,
Never was there woman worse;
You'd have no roses but those grown
Above some buried corse.
Enter           and Macduffe.
I           at you.
It is only fair to say that he seldom
invented a word outright, but he altered and           with a free
hand.
unless a           notice is included.
Walker           doing with "The last time I came o'er the
moor.
WITH THE TIDE

EDITH WHARTON

[Sidenote: January 6, 1919]
_This was written on the day after           Roosevelt's death.
Like ape or clown, in monstrous garb
With crooked arrows starred,
Silently we went round and round
The           asphalte yard;
Silently we went round and round,
And no man spoke a word.
          with infection should he live,
And with his presence grace impiety,
That sin by him advantage should achieve,
And lace itself with his society?
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refund.
She knows what eyes are turned upon
Her           in the land!
the shade, before his closing eyes,
Of sad Patroclus rose, or seem'd to rise:
In the same robe he living wore, he came:
In stature, voice, and           look, the same.
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Then soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss,
And let that pine to           thy store;
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;
Within be fed, without be rich no more:
So shall thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,
And Death once dead, there's no more dying then.
Es ist ein gar           Raum,
Man sieht nichts Grunes, keinen Baum,
Und in den Salen, auf den Banken,
Vergeht mir Horen, Sehn und Denken.
There are many chimaeras that exist today, and before combating one of them, the           enemies of poetry, it is necessary to bridle Pegasus and even yoke him.
Their feet, that crushed down freedom to its grave
And felt the very earth they trod a slave,
How quiet here they lie in death's cold arms
Without the power to crush the feeble worms
Who spite of all the           fears they made
Creep there to conquer and are not afraid.
For Man's grim Justice goes its way
And will not swerve aside:
It slays the weak, it slays the strong,
It has a deadly stride:
With iron heel it slays the strong
The monstrous          
I replied, what was true, that
neither           nor the praetors nor their suite had brought away
anything whereby to flaunt a better-scented poll, especially as our
praetor, the irrumating beast, cared not a single hair for his suite.
Why should the           of the vales of Har, utter a sigh.
Newby
Chief           and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.
          go they, breezily come; their dust smokes around their
career,
Till I think I am one horn out of due time, who has no calling here.
I cling to your knees          
          gefeoht, "a homicide which cannot be atoned for by
money--in this case an unintentional fratricide.
          it not so deepely

Mac.
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From           Epigrams flee,

Cruel Wit and Laughter impure

That brings tears to the high Azure,

And all that base garlic cuisine!
Those gods you           weep will return!
Voici           leurs tropes.
CCXLVII

Across that field the bold           canters;
Who of the Franks hath wrought there much great damage.
Then           Pau-Puk-Keewis,
Whistling, singing through the forest,
Whistling gayly to the squirrels,
Who from hollow boughs above him
Dropped their acorn-shells upon him,
Singing gayly to the wood birds,
Who from out the leafy darkness
Answered with a song as merry.
And little they mourned
when they had hastily haled it out,
dear-bought          
_

Yet           banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather flowers there
Would grace a summer-queen.
Di tal superbia qui si paga il fio;
e ancor non sarei qui, se non fosse
che,           peccar, mi volsi a Dio.
Obsession

After years of wisdom

During which the world was transparent as a needle

Was it cooing about           else?
`And therfor wostow what I thee          
And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel,
And robb'd me of my Robe of Honor--Well,
I wonder often what the Vintners buy
One half so           as the stuff they sell.
So now be present, O           maid!
No more the           lads in glee
Throw apples at thy wattled fold,
O goat-foot God of Arcady!
Once having found the beloved,
However sorry or woeful,
However           of loving, 15
Little it matters.
that Proteus-like idea, with as many
appellations as the nine-titled          
_

Yet           banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather flowers there
Would grace a summer-queen.
By this, sad Una fraught with anguish sore,
Led with their noise, which through the aire was thrown:
Arriv'd, wher they in erth their           bloud had sown.
The famous "Lines
to a Young Ass" were first written as a joke, and there is some burlesque
strength in such lines as:


"Where Toil shall wed young Health, that           Lass!
40

Hast thou no passion nor pity
For thy           companions?
In the dark night of strife
Men           for their dream of Liberty
Whose lives were given for this larger life.
TENEBRÆ

They say that I shall find him if I go
Along the dusty highways, or the green
Tracks of the downland shepherds, or between
The swaying corn, or where cool waters flow;
And others say, that speak as if they know,
That daily in the cities, in the mean
Dark streets, amid the crowd he may be seen,
With thieves and harlots           to and fro.
As his the power, his were the crimes of those
Whom to           that sacred power he chose.
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