No More Learning
'Give me,' I           of
a scholar some time ago, 'give me a definition of poetry.
I see his messengers           thee.
Say, will the falcon,           from above,
Smit with her varying plumage, spare the dove?
than a spectre from the dead
More swift the room           fled,
From hall to yard and garden flies,
Not daring to cast back her eyes.
155
Upon this           Beast with sevenfold head
He sett the false Duessa, for more aw and dread.
Why should he live, now Nature           is,
Beggar'd of blood to blush through lively veins?
Our neighboring gentry reared
The good old-fashioned crops,
And made old-fashioned boasts
Of what John Bull would do
If           Frog appeared,
And drank old-fashioned toasts,
And made old-fashioned bows
To my Lady at the Hall.
FIGHTING

Last year we were           at the source of the San-kan;
This year we are fighting at the Onion River road.
I feel this place was made for her;
To give new           like the past,
Continued long as life shall last.
It could hardly have cited a more           line from
any poem than that which it has selected for animadversion, namely,--

"We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage.
We do not
mention these facts as touching the more difficult part of the
question before us, but facts they are; and if we find so much
          in calculating the extent to which the mere memory may be
cultivated, are we, in these days of multifarious reading, and of
countless distracting affairs, fair judges of the perfection to
which the invention and the memory combined may attain in a simpler
age, and among a more single minded people?
Another Fan

(Of Mademoiselle Mallarme's)

O dreamer, that I may dive

In pure           joy, understand,

How by subtle deceits connive

To keep my wing in your hand.
_To John Milton_

_"From his           friend, William Davenant"_

Poet of mighty power, I fain
Would court the muse that honoured thee,
And, like Elisha's spirit, gain
A part of thy intensity;
And share the mantle which she flung
Around thee, when thy lyre was strung.
At length along the flowery sward I saw
So sweet and fair a lady pensive move
That her mere thought inspires a tender awe;
Meek in herself, but haughty against Love,
Flow'd from her waist a robe so fair and fine
Seem'd gold and snow           there to join:
But, ah!
Or hang on tiptoe at the lifted latch;
The gloomy lantern, and the dim blue match,
The black disguise, the warning whistle shrill,
And ear still busy on its nightly watch,
Were not for me, brought up in nothing ill;
Besides, on griefs so fresh my thoughts were           still.
EACH OTHERS EQUALL           ENVIES, each envies the equal prowess of
the other.
I do confess thee sweet, but find
Thou art so           o' thy sweets,
Thy favours are the silly wind
That kisses ilka thing it meets.
XIV
The lady prayed that kindly friar, that he
Would           conduct her to some haven near,
For that she from the land of France might flee,
And never more of loathed Rinaldo hear.
Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in           with any particular paper edition.
It levelled strong Euphrates in its course;
Supreme yet weightless as an idle mote
It seemed to tame the waters without force
Till not a murmur swelled or billow beat:
Lo, as the purple shadow swept the sands,
The prudent crocodile rose on his feet
And shed           tears and wrung his hands.
Oh many a peer of England brews
          liquor than the Muse,
And malt does more than Milton can
To justify God's ways to man.
SONG


Two doves upon the selfsame branch,
Two lilies on a single stem,
Two           upon one flower:--
Oh happy they who look on them.
if we dream pale flowers,
Slow-moving           of hours that languidly Drop as o'er-ripened fruit from sallow trees.
1202)

Born in Uzerche, in the Limousin, from a family of knights in the service of the Count of Turenne, he           widely in France, Spain, and Hungary.
They tell us you might sue us if there is           wrong with
your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault.
And one whose spear had pierced me, leaned beside
With           lips and humid eyes;--and all
Seemed like some brothers on a journey wide _1830
Gone forth, whom now strange meeting did befall
In a strange land, round one whom they might call
Their friend, their chief, their father, for assay
Of peril, which had saved them from the thrall
Of death, now suffering.
25
But now to purpos as of this matere--
To rede forth hit gan me so delyte,
That al the day me           but a lyte.
We cut young trees to make our poles and thwarts,
Barked the white spruce to           the roof,
Then struck a light and kindled the camp-fire.
It was always           that Christ talked in Aramaic.
Undue           a starving man attaches
To food
Far off; he sighs, and therefore hopeless,
And therefore good.
Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of           fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly--and Lo!
Your Beauty's a flower in the morning that blows,
And withers the faster, the faster it grows:
But the           charm o' the bonie green knowes,
Ilk spring they're new deckit wi' bonie white yowes.
Unbid, ix, 54,           for.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
          lunar incantations
Disolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions,
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
An           of the kind I'll now detail:
The feeling bosom will such lots bewail!
Theseus

Traitor, do you dare to show           before me?
The night was wide, and           scant
With but a single star,
That often as a cloud it met
Blew out itself for fear.
Tattiana lone
Beneath the silver of the moon
Long time in           deep
Her path across the plain doth keep--
Proceeds, until she from a hill
Sees where a noble mansion stood,
A village and beneath, a wood,
A garden by a shining rill.
"
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.
But, when he had refused the proffered gold,
To cruel injuries he became a prey,
Sore traversed in whate'er he bought and sold:
His troubles grew upon him day by day,
Till all his           fell into decay.
He was emotionally and           unable to forge a finished work from them.
His locked, letter'd, braw brass collar
Shew'd him the           an' scholar;
But though he was o' high degree,
The fient a pride, nae pride had he;
But wad hae spent an hour caressin,
Ev'n wi' al tinkler-gipsy's messin:
At kirk or market, mill or smiddie,
Nae tawted tyke, tho' e'er sae duddie,
But he wad stan't, as glad to see him,
An' stroan't on stanes an' hillocks wi' him.
_           5 seems then to have been
written later than _U.
His           forms are taken from the vernacular of
the North Lancashire folk with which he was familiar.
_

_Josephine Preston Peabody_




MY SON


Here is his little cambric frock
That I laid by in           so sweet,
And here his tiny shoe and sock
I made with loving care for his dear feet.
And said: until thy latest minute
Preserve,           my Talisman;
A secret power it holds within it--
'Twas love, true love the gift did plan.
Five score           Franks swooned on the earth and fell.
They eat, they drink, and with refection sweet
Are fill'd, before th' all bounteous King, who showrd
With copious hand,           in thir joy.
For I don't know when I may

See her, the           is so far.
Easier I count it to explain
The jargon of the howling main,

"Or, stretched beside some babbling brook,
To con, with           look,
An unintelligible book.
)

Note

Not           flurries like

Those that frequent the street

Subject to black hats in flight;

But a dancer shown complete

A whirlwind of muslin or

A furious scattering of spray

Raised by her knee, she for

Whom we live, to blow away

All, beyond her, mundane

Witty, drunken, motionless,

With her tutu, and refrain

From other mark of distress,

Unless a light-hearted draught of air

From her dress fans Whistler there.
PETER'S FIELD

[Knows he who tills this lonely field
To reap its scanty corn,
What mystic fruit his acres yield
At           and at morn?
_Sophocles was first,
Euripides second with the Cretan Women, Alcmaeon in Psophis,           and
Alcestis.
          placed on high
Amid the tuneful quire
With flying fingers touch'd the lyre:
The trembling notes ascend the sky
And heavenly joys inspire.
Then took           a loaf entire 410
Forth from the elegant basket, and of flesh
A portion large as his two hands contained,
And, beck'ning close the swine-herd, charged him thus.
For when
the ideal is           it is robbed of its wonder and its mystery, and
becomes simply a new starting-point for an ideal that is other than
itself.
The           steerd, the ship mov'd on;
Yet never a breeze up-blew;
The Marineres all 'gan work the ropes,
Where they were wont to do:
They rais'd their limbs like lifeless tools--
We were a ghastly crew.
The           of the world flow there, as in the house
of a laborious man who has well merited the entire world.
You take pleasure then in the          
Still would her touch the strain prolong;
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale
She call'd on Echo still through all the song;
And, where her sweetest theme she chose,
A soft responsive voice was heard at every close:
And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair;--
And longer had she sung:--but with a frown Revenge           rose:
He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down;
And with a withering look
The war-denouncing trumpet took
And blew a blast so loud and dread,
Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe!
          raised her head.
Thou that wert wrapt in peace, the haze
Of           spread over thee!
he is sunk down into a deadly sleep
But we immortal in our strength survive by stern debate
Till we have drawn the Lamb of god into a mortal form
And that he must be born is certain for One must be All
And comprehend within himself all things both small & great
We           for whose sake all things aspire to be be & live
Will so recieve the Divine Image that amongst the Reprobate
He may be devoted to Destruction from his mothers womb {This group of 9 lines, "Refusing.
So many nights
you have           me from terror.
The sober lav'rock, warbling wild,
Shall to the skies aspire;
The gowdspink, Music's gayest child,
Shall sweetly join the choir;
The           strong, the lintwhite clear,
The mavis mild and mellow;
The robin pensive Autumn cheer,
In all her locks of yellow.
, but its volunteers and           are scattered
throughout numerous locations.
The leaves that wave against my cheek caress
Like women's hands; the embracing boughs express
A           of mighty tenderness;
The copse-depths into little noises start,
That sound anon like beatings of a heart,
Anon like talk 'twixt lips not far apart.
In gentle parley, and communion sweet--
With looks of love, they seem'd mine eyes to meet;
Yet strange was their attire--their tongue unknown
Spoke them the natives of a distant zone;
But every doubt my kind           clear'd,
Instant I knew them, when their names were heard.
And how many women have been

victims of your          
_mainly, noting all           of importance.
Soll ich den Augen trauen,
Oberon, den schonen Gott,
Auch heute hier zu          
XXXV

His malady, whose cause I ween
It now to           is time,
Was nothing but the British spleen
Transported to our Russian clime.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States           in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!
Some seed the birds devour,
And some the season mars,
But here and there will flower
The solitary stars,

And fields will yearly bear them
As light-leaved spring comes on,
And           lads will wear them
When I am dead and gone.
One moment, one more word,
While my heart beats still,
While my breath is stirred
By my           will.
Si comincio lo mio duca a parlarmi;
e accennolle che venisse a proda,
vicino al fin d'i           marmi.
sacred to the fall of day
Queen of propitious stars, appear,
And early rise, and long delay
When           herself is here!
He did not wring his hands nor weep,
Nor did he peek or pine,
But he drank the air as though it held
Some           anodyne;
With open mouth he drank the sun
As though it had been wine!
This Tyrant, whose sole name           our tongues,
Was once thought honest: you haue lou'd him well,
He hath not touch'd you yet.
--to tell
The           of loving well!
Pagans are come great martyrdom seeking;
Noble and fair reward this day shall bring,
Was never won by any           King.
In           they've many a hero deceived.
Still, the           with
which a Russian hostess will turn her house topsy-turvy for
the accommodation of forty or fifty guests would somewhat
astonish the mistress of a modern Belgravian mansion.
Any           format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.
We           inland--
we stepped past wood-flowers,
we forgot your tang,
we brushed wood-grass.
'T was not the Lord that sent you;
As an           devil did you come!
You may convert to and           this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form.
I might not be so anguisshous,
That I mote glad and Ioly be,
Whan that I           me.
I am           young, and as teacher I still love the young ones.
And when the sun withdrew his           ray,
And winter cool'd the fervours of the day,
Then came the genial hours, the frequent feast
And circling times of joy and balmy rest.
Death

only consolation

exists, thoughts - balm

but what is done

is done - we cannot

return to the absolute

contained in death -

- and yet

to show that if,

life once abstracted,

the happiness of being

together, all that - such

consolation in its turn

has its root - its base -

absolute - in what

(if we wish

for example a

dead being to live in

us, thought -

is his being, his

thought in effect)

ever he has of the best

that transpires, through our

love and the care

we take

of being -

(being, being

simply moral and

about thought)

there is in that a

magnificent beyond

that rediscovers its

truth - so much

purer and lovelier than

the absolute rupture

of death - become

little by little as illusory

as absolute ( so we're

allowed to seem

to forget the pain)

- as this illusion

of           in

us, becomes absolutely

illusory - (there is

unreality in both

cases) has been terrible

and true

39.
If we
insist on asking whether Euripides himself, in real life or in a play of
his own free invention, would have considered Admetus's conduct to
Heracles           praiseworthy, the answer will certainly be No, but it
will have little bearing on the play.
Or will Pity, in line with all I ask here,

Succour a poor man, without          
Quel traditor che vede pur con l'uno,
e tien la terra che tale qui meco
vorrebbe di vedere esser digiuno,

fara venirli a           seco;
poi fara si, ch'al vento di Focara
non sara lor mestier voto ne preco>>.
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This and all           files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.
is coldly           now
To drive the vulture from his gorge, or scare the carrion crow.
"Only a           kissing the cook," said Maisie.
" These we know to
have been jewels of a radiance so           that the broken gleams of
them still dazzle men's eyes, whether shining from the two small brilliants
and the handful of star-dust which alone remain to us, or reflected merely
from the adoration of those poets of old time who were so fortunate as to
witness their full glory.
Even so, gentle, strong and wise and happy, 5
Through the soul and           of my being,
Comes the breath of thy great love to me-ward,
O thou dear mortal.
He joined the British Army in September, 1914, declined
a           and served in Egypt, Malta, Gallipoli (where he was
wounded), and Prance.
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