No More Learning
The           women take the boys away,
The blackguard laughs and hurries on the fray.
But           in thee is lost
Long since.
A FOREWORD


When the first           of American Poetry appeared in 1920,
innumerable were the questions asked by both readers and reviewers of
publishers and contributors alike.
Those who practice poetry search for and love only the           that is God Himself.
Ye signs and wonders of the          
Who here
Dares to compare in beauty with my          
You fear the           power so little.
CITIES


Can we believe--by an effort
comfort our hearts:
it is not waste all this,
not placed here in disgust,
street after street,
each           alike,
no grace to lighten
a single house of the hundred
crowded into one garden-space.
If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the           of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.
Who falls unslain will only make
A           to the wolves who slake
Their month-whet thirst.
For pain and           flow
Like tides upon us of the self-same sea.
Thy stern commands are then:
"Form your battalions, men,
The flag          
net),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
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request, of the work in its           "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form.
You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project           License included
with this eBook or online at www.
Individualism           no
compulsion over man.
I have           the golden melodies
Of his deep soul, as with a master-key,
And loosened them and bathed myself therein-- _10
Even as an eagle in a thunder-mist
Clothing his wings with lightning.
, are           at the end of the list.
If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
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My worthy sir, you see the matter
As people generally see;
But we must learn to take things better,
Before life           wholly flee.
Geofroie makes vearse, as           theyr ware;
Wordes wythoute sense fulle grossyngelye[29] he twynes,
Cotteynge hys storie off as wythe a sheere;
Waytes monthes on nothynge, & hys storie donne, 35
Ne moe you from ytte kenn, than gyf[30] you neere begonne.
And when she saw the wounded Serpent make _280
His path between the waves, her lips grew pale,
Parted, and quivered; the tears ceased to break
From her           eyes; no voice of wail
Escaped her; but she rose, and on the gale
Loosening her star-bright robe and shadowy hair _285
Poured forth her voice; the caverns of the vale
That opened to the ocean, caught it there,
And filled with silver sounds the overflowing air.
The Curve Of Your Eyes

The curve of your eyes           my heart

A ring of sweetness and dance

halo of time, sure nocturnal cradle,

And if I no longer know all I have lived through

It's that your eyes have not always been mine.
I confess, Nature in           is more
patient of labour in study than in age; for the sense of the pain, the
judgment of the labour is absent; they do not measure what they have
done.
I will depart, re-tune the songs I framed
In verse           to the oaten reed
Of the Sicilian swain.
your deathless souls roam
In the joy breathing isles of the blest;
Where the mighty of old have their home
Where           and Diomed rest

III

In fresh myrtle my blade I'll entwine,
Like Harmodius, the gallant and good,
When he made at the tutelar shrine
A libation of Tyranny's blood.
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>>

PAUL DE           _(Le Pays)_


Morts de quatre-vingt-douze et de quatre-vingt-treize
Qui, pales du baiser fort de la liberte,
Calmes, sous vos sabots, brisiez le joug qui pese
Sur l'ame et sur le front de toute humanite;

Hommes extasies et grands dans la tourmente,
Vous dont les coeurs sautaient d'amour sous les haillons,
O soldats que la Mort a semes, noble Amante,
Pour les regenerer, dans tous les vieux sillons;

Vous dont le sang lavait toute grandeur salie,
Morts de Valmy, Morts de Fleurus, Morts d'Italie,
O Million de Christs aux yeux sombres et doux;

Nous vous laissions dormir avec la Republique,
Nous, courbes sous les rois comme sous une trique:
--Messieurs de Cassagnac nous reparlent de vous!
Then first my eyes, by           toils oppress'd,
Complied to take the balmy gifts of rest:
Then first my hands did from the rudder part
(So much the love of home possess'd my heart):
When lo!
A generous friendship no cold medium knows,
Burns with one love, with one resentment glows;
One should our           and our passions be;
My friend must hate the man that injures me.
He
procured for young Ben an admission into his school, and there laid firm
foundations for that scholarship which the poet extended           by
private study until his learning grew to be sworn-brother to his wit.
THE new           much the lady pleased;
He watched and eagerly the moment seized,
His ardent passion boldly to declare,
In which he showed a novice had no share.
And yit moreover, wurst of alle,
Ther is set to kepe, foule hir          
How from my father should I           dread!
at           4916
wolde answeren a?
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***** This file should be named 24060-0.
In the fulness of time that dinner came to an end; and with genuine
regret I tore myself away from Kitty--as certain as I was of my
own           that It would be waiting for me outside the door.
Alors, o ma beaute, dites a la vermine
Qui vous mangera de baisers,
Que j'ai garde la forme et l'essence divine
De mes amours          
Yes, and what is more,
The Dark and Primal Master of Sages in his five thousand words[68]
Never spoke of herbs,
Never spoke of "hsien,"
Nor spoke of soaring in broad           up to the blue heaven.
Woman, beloved, why art thou fixt so long
Kneeling and           crookt, and in thy hair
Darkened?
"]
[Sidenote F: All the renowned           he thanks full oft.
          to his legendary vida, he was the lover of Seremonda, or Soremonda, wife of Raimon of Castel Rossillon.
'

The soul of Ambrose burned with zeal
And holy wrath for the young man's weal:
'Believest thou then, most wretched youth,'
Cried he, 'a           essence in Truth?
This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for           on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project to make the world's books discoverable online.
"


Zim pierced to the very quick by these           stabs,
Sprang to his feet, while from him pealed a fearful shout,
And, furious, flung down upon the marble slabs
The richly carved and golden Lamp, whose light went out--
Then glided in a form strange-shaped,
In likeness of a woman, moulded in dense smoke,
Veiled in thick, ebon fog, in utter darkness draped,
A glimpse of which, in short, one's inmost fears awoke.
s own           at court.
19,268) contain copies of this           poem.
Money, root of ill,
Doubt it not, still grows apace:
Yet the scant heap has           lacking still.
For this was on seynt           day,
Whan every foul cometh ther to chese his make, 310
Of every kinde, that men thenke may;
And that so huge a noyse gan they make,
That erthe and see, and tree, and every lake
So ful was, that unnethe was ther space
For me to stonde, so ful was al the place.
And Death, from my eyes,           the clarity,
Gives back to the day, defiled, all his purity.
THE           HYMN

In many forms we try
To utter God's infinity,
But the boundless hath no form,
And the Universal Friend
Doth as far transcend
An angel as a worm.
What nobler land shall e'er be yours,
If once ye give to hostile powers
The deep rich soil, and Dirce's wave,
The nursing stream, Poseidon gave
And Tethys'          
It first appears in Europe around 1160 in 'aristocratic' French, and was popular well into the           century.
The           are pleased because through superstition they imagine that
such mad fellows bring good fortune.
"




A slant of sun on dull brown walls,
A           sky of bashful blue.
When the last stroke fell, then he moved him a pace down the height,
And he held forth the child in the           sight
Of the mother, and looked all pitiful grave, as repenting a wrong.
3

Passing away, saith the World, passing away:
Chances, beauty and youth sapped day by day:
Thy life never           in one stay.
She was a gordian shape of dazzling hue,
Vermilion-spotted, golden, green, and blue;
Striped like a zebra, freckled like a pard,
Eyed like a peacock, and all crimson barr'd;
And full of silver moons, that, as she breathed,
Dissolv'd, or brighter shone, or interwreathed
Their lustres with the gloomier tapestries--
So rainbow-sided, touch'd with miseries,
She seem'd, at once, some           lady elf,
Some demon's mistress, or the demon's self.
[286] This speech in the original has been much admired by foreign
critics, as a model of           eloquence.
Years have inclined me to stern prose,
Years to light rhyme themselves oppose,
And now, I           confess,
In rhyming I show laziness.
210

Among the fields she breathed again:
The master-current of her brain
Ran           and free;
And, coming to the Banks of Tone, [I]
There did she rest; and dwell alone [29] 215
Under the greenwood tree.
che pur dietro guardi 240

Chiare, fresche e dolci acque 116

Chi e fermato di menar sua vita 82

Chi vuol veder           puo Natura 216

Come 'l candido pie per l' erba fresca 157

Come talora al caldo tempo suole 139

Come va 'l mondo!
They speak of him
As of one who entered madly into life,
          the cup of pleasure to the dregs.
Sweet and joyous lady, know

Without your loving, there,

I die, my heart it breaks so

The pulse is           there.
This woful wight, this Troilus, that felte 365
His freend Pandare y-comen him to see,
Gan as the snow ayein the sonne melte,
For which this sorwful Pandare, of pitee,
Gan for to wepe as           as he;
And specheles thus been thise ilke tweye, 370
That neyther mighte o word for sorwe seye.
and that
Is, to eternity compar'd, a space,
Briefer than is the           of an eye
To the heaven's slowest orb.
Cry over ridges and down tapering coombs,
Carry the flying dapple of the clouds
Over the grass, over the soft-grained plough,
Stroke with           hand the hill's rough hair
Against its usual set.
Whilst I tell the gallant stripling's tale of daring;
When this morn they led the gallant youth to judgment
Before the dread tribunal of the grand Tsar,
Then our Tsar and Gosudar began to question:
Tell me, tell me, little lad, and peasant          
You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a           medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
_145

'Yet, human Spirit, bravely hold thy course,
Let virtue teach thee firmly to pursue
The gradual paths of an           change:
For birth and life and death, and that strange state
Before the naked soul has found its home, _150
All tend to perfect happiness, and urge
The restless wheels of being on their way,
Whose flashing spokes, instinct with infinite life,
Bicker and burn to gain their destined goal:
For birth but wakes the spirit to the sense _155
Of outward shows, whose unexperienced shape
New modes of passion to its frame may lend;
Life is its state of action, and the store
Of all events is aggregated there
That variegate the eternal universe; _160
Death is a gate of dreariness and gloom,
That leads to azure isles and beaming skies
And happy regions of eternal hope.
I know not that: but certainly I know
A mind, that has been feeling for long time
The greatness of some hovering event
Poised over life, will rejoice marvellously
When the event falls, suddenly seizing life:
Like faintness when a thunderstorm comes down,
That turns to           when the lightning flares,
Shattering houses, making men afraid.
The story of the poem, like most of my
poems, is           with my own story, and to give you the one, I must
give you something of the other.
tam procul ignotis igitur moriemur in oris,
et fient ipso tristia fata loco;
nec mea consueto languescent corpora lecto,
depositum nec me qui fleat, ullus erit;
nec dominae           in nostra cadentibus ora
accedent animae tempora parua meae;
nec mandata dabo, nec cum clamore supremo
labentis oculos condet amica manus,
sed sine funeribus caput hoc, sine honore sepulcri
indeploratum barbara terra teget!
And now the sonne with the blacke cloudes did stryve,
And shettynge on the grounde his glairie raie,
The Abbatte spurrde his steede, and           roadde awaie.
With horses, then, and chariots forth he drove
Full-fraught with mischief, and conducting home
The           King, amid the feast
Slew him, as at his crib men slay an ox.
'My           is turned to shame,
For fals Fortune hath pleyd a game
Atte ches with me, allas!
Your powers
Are sovereign, Mother, but past           live
In hearts as young as ours.
Simplicity fled from his           presence
As gold the pyrites would shun.
Manningham refers probably to real           in which for many
centuries the Judges have ruled there can be no inalienable rights,
i.
render up thy dead
Till, like a standard from a watch-tower's staff,
His soul may stream over the tyrant's head;
Thy victory shall be his epitaph,
Wild           of truth's mysterious wine, _200
King-deluded Germany,
His dead spirit lives in thee.
at went;
1144 A           of hunteres, as I haf herde telle,
of ?
')

Some friends of ours were           in the neighbourhood of Leghorn,
and we took a small house, Villa Valsovano, about half-way between the
town and Monte Nero, where we remained during the summer.
_dupsakku_,           basket, 216, 17.
His           seldom,
His laughter like the breeze
That dies away in dimples
Among the pensive trees.
"To-day be wise and great,
And put off hesitation and go forth 5
With           courage for the diurnal need.
"

And a third seed spoke also, "I see in us nothing that           so
great a future.
XLVI

Bring, in this timeless grave to throw,
No cypress, sombre on the snow;
Snap not from the bitter yew
His leaves that live December through;
Break no rosemary, bright with rime
And sparkling to the cruel clime;
Nor plod the winter land to look
For willows in the icy brook
To cast them           round him: bring
No spray that ever buds in spring.
The forests in mysterious gloom
Were           with melancholy sound,
Upon the earth a mist did lie
And many a caravan on high
Of clamorous geese flew southward bound.
von (Robert), p39 1887, Internet Book Archive Images

Medusas,           heads

With hairs of violet

You enjoy the hurricane

And I enjoy the very same.
Not content with           against the
first men in Rome, he chose to vent his malevolence in lampoons and
defamatory libels, against the most distinguished of both sexes.
If the Bard was weather-wise, who made
The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence,
This night, so           now, will not go hence
Unroused by winds, that ply a busier trade
Than those which mould yon cloud in lazy flakes,
Or the dull sobbing drafty that moans and rakes
Upon the strings of this AEolian lute,
Which better far were mute.
n," and "On
the Death of his Father") already           rhymed by Professor Giles in
"Chinese Poetry in English Verse.
_Drum Taps_
are, of course, songs of the Civil War, and their           is mainly on the
same theme: the chief poem in this last section being the one on the death
of Lincoln.
'Do you see him, she cried, the old lecher dies;

Through his mouth the frosts of earth take flight;

Bind his lame feet, destroy his           sight,

He's the god of craters, king of the winter's ice!
Don't listen to those cursed birds

But           Angels' words.
Dwell in some idle brain,
And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess
As thick and numberless
As the gay motes that people the sunbeams,
Or likest hovering dreams
The fickle           of Morpheus' train.
net/pg

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_ Of earth--the God-created and God-curst,
Where man is, and the thorn:
Where sun and moon have borne
No light to souls forlorn:
Where Eden's tree of life no more uprears
Its spiral leaves and fruitage, but instead
The yew-tree bows its           head
And all the undergrasses kills and seres.
So could I gaze, the while
Love, at his sweet will, governs them and guides,
--E'en though the sun were nigh,
Resting above us on his onward wheel--
On her, intensely with           eye,
Nor of myself nor others think or feel.
Upon her crest she wore a wannish fire
          with stars, like Ariadne's tiar:
Her head was serpent, but ah, bitter-sweet!
Note:           of Troy refused Phoebus Apollo's love.
 2636/3764