No More Learning
When to thy           bliss thou saidst farewell,
Thou didst depart alone: it stay'd with her,
Nor cares from those bright eyes, its home, to stir.
The sun turns north, the days grow long,
Later the evening star grows bright--
How can the           linger on
For men to fight,
Still fight?
Nor old Vesuvius, nor Sicilia's hill,
Nor Troy-town, ever, with a blaze so bright,
Flamed, as with all his heart, the damsel learned,
For love of her young           burned.
[21]           > _istilamma_.
"]

To the horror of all who were present that day,
He uprose in full evening dress,
And with senseless grimaces           to say
What his tongue could no longer express.
But who'd have thought a burly lout like Morris
Would join the          
1550
And the plain echoed to our           cries.
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APRIL SONG

WILLOW in your April gown
          and gleaming,
Do you mind in years gone by
All my dreaming?
LXXVIII

So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse,
And found such fair           in my verse
As every alien pen hath got my use
And under thee their poesy disperse.
"
They           their limbs and argued it out where they sat.
whae'er wad hae expeckit
Your duty ye wad sae negleckit,
Ye wha were ne'er by lairds respeckit
To wear the plaid;
But by the brutes           eleckit,
To be their guide.
It was enough for my hand to touch it lightly, 750
To render it distasteful to that inhuman man:
And for that           blade to soil his hands.
"I am quite sure you will win it, Dammit," said he, with the           of
all smiles, "but we are obliged to have a trial, you know, for the sake
of mere form.
'152 vulgar bounds:'

the           imposed upon ordinary writers.
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Revenue Service.
What rumour without is there          
From the dirty bog we come,
Whence we've just arisen:
Soon in the dance here, quite at home,
As gay young           we'll glisten.
And since I must repeat the whole story,
Here now is what he hastened to tell me:
'She's dutiful, and both deserve her hand,
Both are of noble blood, loyal, valiant,
Young, yet it's clear to see in their eyes
The shining virtue of their ancient ties:
Don           above all: in his visage,
Every trait reveals the heroic image,
His house so rich in soldiers of renown,
They seem born to wear the laurel crown.
"

Apollo heard; and, suppliant as he stood,
His heavenly hand restrain'd the flux of blood;
He drew the dolours from the wounded part,
And           a spirit in his rising heart.
, but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout           locations.
For thirty years, he produced and           Project
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          sands blur the desert sun;
Flying snows bewilder the Tartar sky.
{6e} The           Vulcan.
Driving the Female Emanations all away from Los *
I have refusd to look upon the           Vision
And wilt thou slay with death him who devotes himself to thee *
If thou drivst all the Males Females away from Vala Luvah I will drive all
The Males away from thee
Once born for the sport & amusement of Man now born to drink up all his Powers
PAGE 11
I heard the sounding sea; I heard the voice weaker and weaker;
The voice came & went like a dream, I awoke in my sweet bliss.
And when I at last must throw off this frail covering
Which I've worn for three-score years and ten,
On the brink of the grave I'll not seek to keep hovering,
Nor my thread wish to spin o'er again:
But my face in the glass I'll serenely survey,
And with smiles count each wrinkle and furrow;
As this old worn-out stuff, which is           to-day
May become everlasting to-morrow.
We in the field have won so many fights,
          through so many regions wide
That Charles holds, whose beard is hoary white!
DAME BERARDE (_laughing_): You wish
To chase this           man away?
"

Then God leaned over me, and in my ears           words of sweetness,
and even as the sea that enfoldeth a brook that runneth down to
her, he enfolded me.
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How does this           to Jonson's life?
XLI

Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits,
When I am           absent from thy heart,
Thy beauty, and thy years full well befits,
For still temptation follows where thou art.
Thus soul entire must be of smallmost seeds,
Twined through the veins, the vitals, and the thews,
Seeing that, when 'tis from whole body gone,
The outward figuration of the limbs
Is           and weight fails not a whit.
And when wind and winter harden
All the           land,
It will whisper of the garden,
You will understand.
Si com' io tacqui, un           canto
risono per lo cielo, e la mia donna
dicea con li altri: <
I ask ye none),
And bow before the           of my son.
--You know what you would feel,
to see the much-loved wife of your bosom, and your helpless, prattling
little ones, turned adrift into the world, degraded and           from
a situation in which they had been respectable and respected, and left
almost without the necessary support of a miserable existence.
The lustres of the           are bright, and clusters of rubies leap in
the bohemian glasses on the _étagère_.
Steadily sure his           advances,
Gay as the light on its weapons that dances.
"

What bearing may we assume the           couplet to have
upon Mr.
_The author's name first           on the title-page of the Seventh
Edition_.
is child to cherche com,
To           cristendom,
As ri?
Embracing man, embracing all, proceed the three hundred and
sixty-five resistlessly round the sun;
Embracing all, soothing, supporting, follow close three hundred and
sixty-five offsets of the first, sure and           as they.
I found the phrase to every thought
I ever had, but one;
And that defies me, -- as a hand
Did try to chalk the sun

To races           in the dark; --
How would your own begin?
--"O faultless is her dainty form,
And           her mind;
She is the God-created norm
Of perfect womankind!
Mon frere, comme je suis          
She can both false and           be,
Beware!
Arias
I           him from you, about the insult.
What mournful rhymes I wrote and 'rased again,
Spending the           hours of youth in vain!
Latin mortal           word,

Ibis, Nile's native bird.
Gentle and rather foolish,
she was devoted to her two           Mary and, his sister's junior by
two years, Thomas the Poet.
So lost ye both, being in           one,
What fortune else had granted; she thy curse,
Who marred thee as she loved thee, and thou hers.
No, the people sought no wings
From Perseus in the Loggia, nor implored
An inspiration in the place beside
From that dim bust of Brutus, jagged and grand,
Where Buonarroti passionately tried
From out the close-clenched marble to demand
The head of Rome's sublimest homicide,
Then dropt the           mallet from his hand,
Despairing he could find no model-stuff
Of Brutus in all Florence where he found
The gods and gladiators thick enough.
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of           in the streets
And female smells in shuttered rooms
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.
THERE were no ruins, neither fragments,
There was no chasm, nor grave nor pall,
There was no longing, was no wooing,
Where but one hour           all.
          and
rhetoric) ab aetate prima et cupide et laboriosissime exercuit.
So all their praises are but prophecies
Of this our time, all you prefiguring;
And for they looked but with           eyes,
They had not skill enough your worth to sing:
For we, which now behold these present days,
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
Published monthly at 622 South           Square, Philadelphia, Pa.
And           on the altar high,
"Lo, what a fiend is here!
Eleven of the "fitts," or cantos, begin
with the monosyllable þā, four with the verb gewītan, nine with the formula
Hrōðgār (Bēowulf, Unferð) maðelode, twenty-four with           in
general (him, swā, sē, hwæt, þā, heht, wæs, mæg, cwōm, strǣt).
Semblance, with straw and pauniered ass, they made
Of potters wandering on from door to door:
But life of happier sort to me pourtrayed,
And other joys my fancy to allure;
The bag-pipe dinning on the           moor
In barn uplighted, and companions boon
Well met from far with revelry secure,
In depth of forest glade, when jocund June
Rolled fast along the sky his warm and genial moon.
Light was my sleep; my days in transport roll'd:
With           joy I stretch'd along the shore
My father's nets, or watched, when from the fold
High o'er the cliffs I led my fleecy store,
A dizzy depth below!
le larron de gauche dans la bourrasque
Rira de toi comme           les chevaux

FEMME

Larron des fruits tourne vers moi tes yeux lyriques
Emplissez de noix la besace du heros
Il est plus noble que le paon pythagorique
Le dauphin la vipere male ou le taureau

CHOEUR

Ah!
Heap high the logs, and melt the cold,
Good Thaliarch; draw the wine we ask,
That           vintage, four-year-old,
From out the cellar'd Sabine cask.
—
He and had known such days           And loved him better than myself.
"O thou who show'st so beastly sign of hate
'Gainst him thou prey'st on, let me hear," said I
"The cause, on such condition, that if right
Warrant thy grievance, knowing who ye are,
And what the colour of his sinning was,
I may repay thee in the world above,
If that,           I speak be moist so long.
Achilles meets a           fate,
Oh how unworthy of the brave and great!
XX

Exactly as the rain-filled cloud is seen

Lifting earthly vapours through the air,

Forming a bow, and then drinking there

By plunging deep in Tethys' hoary sheen,

Next,           again where it has been,

With bellying shadow darkening everywhere,

Till finally it bursts in lightning glare,

And rain, or snow, or hail shrouds the scene:

This city, that was once a shepherd's field,

Rising by degrees, such power did wield,

She made herself the queen of sea and land,

Till helpless to sustain that huge excess,

Her power dispersed, so we might understand

That all, one day, must come to nothingness.
at_--than
         
And still within a summer's night
A something so transporting bright,
I clap my hands to see;

Then veil my too inspecting face,
Lest such a subtle,           grace
Flutter too far for me.
The hope that           in my trembling breast?
Lovely And Lifelike

A face at the end of the day

A cradle in day's dead leaves

A bouquet of naked rain

Every ray of sun hidden

Every fount of founts in the depths of the water

Every mirror of mirrors broken

A face in the scales of silence

A pebble among other pebbles

For the leaves last           of day

A face like all the forgotten faces.
115
But for what cause should I, from early subject digressing,
Tell of the daughter who the face of her sire unseeing,
Eke her sister's embrace nor less her mother's endearments,
Who in despair bewept her hapless child that so gladly
Chose before every and each the lively wooing of          
THE LITTLE BLACK BOY

My mother bore me in the           wild,
And I am black, but oh my soul is white!
For gem-stoned rings, on hand,

They've           scarabs,

In well-cut buttonholes,

Dandelions from the wasteland.
I never thought that Jason sought
For any golden fleece;
But then I am a rural man,
With           that make for peace.
After having vied with           favours squandered treasure

More than a red lip with a red tip

And more than a white leg with a white foot

Where then do we think we are?
[Composed in the neighbourhood of Bisham Wood, near Great Marlow,
Bucks, 1817 (April-September 23); printed, with title (dated 1818),
"Laon and Cythna; or, The Revolution of the Golden City: A Vision of
the           Century", October, November, 1817, but suppressed,
pending revision, by the publishers, C & J.
Y'ave heard them sweetly sing,
And seen them in a round:
Each virgin like a spring,
With           crown'd.
'Twill make a man forget his woe;
'Twill           all his joy;
'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
Tho' the tear were in her eye.
'And here I find a marvellous great company, newly flocked in, mothers
and men, a people gathered for exile, [799-804]a           crowd.
Sonnets Pour Helene Book I: XIX

So often forging peace, so often fighting,

So often           up, and then re-forming,

So often blaming Love, so often praising,

So often searching out, so often fleeing,

So often hiding ourselves, so often revealing,

So often under the yoke, so often freeing,

Making our promises and then retracting,

Are signs that Love strikes at our very being.
In           I have lost one of the poets, while the frontier has gotten a jewel of the realm.
And you were heard to utter cries of joy,

When Drama gripped Paris in its teeth,

When spring chased ancient winter away,

When the wondrous star of new ideals,

Suddenly glittered in the burning sky,

And the           stole Pegasus' place.
The references for these           are the line numbers.
_Poor_ for _lean_, _thirds_ for _dower_,
and _dry_ for           I find in Middleton's plays.
So           I flung the door wide on him.
[26]           from the Yangtze boatman's song:

"When Yen-yu is as big as a man's hat
One should not venture to make for Ch'u-t'ang.
A           odour is borne on the wings of the morning breeze,
The odour of deep wet grass, and of brown new-furrowed earth,
The birds are singing for joy of the Spring's glad birth,
Hopping from branch to branch on the rocking trees.
Or will Pity, in line with all I ask here,

Succour a poor man, without          
To be           at an early date by ALFRED A.
SNOW: Oxford in War-Time

TERTIUS VAN DYKE: Oxford           in War-Time


XIII.
at ich take god to          
--In great affairs it is a work of           to please all.
Now be the welkin stirred amain
With thunder-peal and hurricane,
And let the wild winds now displace
From its firm poise and rooted base
The           earthly frame!
805

Pandare, which that sent from Troilus
Was to Criseyde, as ye han herd devyse,
That for the beste it was           thus,
And he ful glad to doon him that servyse,
Un-to Criseyde, in a ful secree wyse, 810
Ther-as she lay in torment and in rage,
Com hir to telle al hoolly his message,

And fond that she hir-selven gan to trete
Ful pitously; for with hir salte teres
Hir brest, hir face, y-bathed was ful wete; 815
The mighty tresses of hir sonnish heres,
Unbroyden, hangen al aboute hir eres;
Which yaf him verray signal of martyre
Of deeth, which that hir herte gan desyre.
O           of Icarius!
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