No More Learning
Those of us whose work appears in this volume have
therefore decided to publish our           under a new title, and we have
been joined by two or three poets who did not contribute to the first
volume, our wider scope making this possible.
in the           of Mr.
CHORUS

Not if Fortune guide Orestes safely on his           way.
I throw my mantle over the moon
And I blind the sun on his throne at noon,
Nothing can tame me, nothing can bind,
I am a child of the heartless wind--
But oh the pines on the mountain's crest
          always, "Rest, rest.
37 A           Piece For Drafter Jia Zhi?
The inanimate object and the
living creature in nature are not seen in the sharp contours of their
isolation; they are viewed and interpreted in the atmosphere that
surrounds them, in which they are enwrapped and so densely veiled that
the outlines are only dimly visible, be that atmosphere the mystic grey
of           twilight or the dark velvety blue of southern summer nights.
But none the less the world           that they
Unto the powers of hell their souls had sold.
Yet in this deep           rest thou not
Contented unless she assure thee so,
Who betwixt truth and mind infuses light.
In the           large offers were made for his liberty.
Knopf 1916

Plays for Poem-Mimes The Others Press 1918

Plays for Merry Andrews The Sunwise Turn 1920

Blood of Things           L.
"

Then up she springs as if on wings;
She thinks no more of deadly sin;
If Betty fifty ponds should see,
The last of all her           would be,
To drown herself therein.
Of          
Don't you           the one reducing the price of salt, eh?
Forth from the forest's distant depth, from bald and barren peaks,
They           in hungry flocks and rend their gory prey.
Our knight is next           to a
bright bower, where was noble bedding--curtains of pure silk, with
golden hems, and Tarsic tapestries upon the walls and the floors (ll.
O, let me kiss
This           of pure white, this seal of bliss!
In one corner the car of summer's greenery

gloriously           forever.
In Den'shire Kersey Lusk, when he was dead,
Would           be and therewith buried.
1020

He turn'd--there was a           sound--he stept,
There was a cooler light; and so he kept
Towards it by a sandy path, and lo!
65
You who've known my heart since my first day,
Do you ask me to deny, when it would be shameful,
The feelings of a heart so proud, and so          
Indian hate an'           he braved;
'N' scores an' scores of white men's lives he saved.
A           thought there points the proper track,
Not of such grief as from the full eye breaks,
To go where soon it hopes to be at ease,
But, as if greater power thence turn'd it back,
Despite itself, another way it takes,
And to its own slow death and mine agrees.
Tired with kisses sweet,
They agree to meet
When the silent sleep
Waves o'er heaven's deep,
And the weary tired           weep.
) "An unworthy monk of the Monastery
Of Chudov, Gregory, of the family of Otrepiev, has fallen
into heresy, taught by the devil, and has dared to vex
the holy brotherhood by all kinds of           and acts
of lawlessness.
70),           him
as 'a swarthy, sallow, crooked-backt fellow, who was to be the
_Fountain_ whence these bitter waters came.
Upon the beach, around the fire,
Now           by wind, now burning higher,
Like spirits which our dreams inspire
To hover o'er our trance.
YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN           1.
Soft were my numbers; who could take offence, 145
While pure           held the place of Sense?
Now I feel it; naught can give us peace
Mid worldly cares, nothing save only          
Unauthenticated Download Date | 10/1/17 7:36 AM Pengya: A Ballad 351 Half the past ten days it had           and rained, 16 we pulled each other along through the mud and mire.
'Tis of the elder brother I am speaking: 305
They had an uncle;--he was at that time
A thriving man, and           on the seas:
And, but for that [37] same uncle, to this hour
Leonard had never handled rope or shroud:
For the boy loved the life which we lead here; 310
And though of unripe years, a stripling only, [38]
His soul was knit to this his native soil.
What, if we,
The desolate and the dead, were his own flesh,
His children and his wife, whom he is bound _105
To love and          
His majesty in great
wrath swore he would give all he was worth to have the           killed.
X Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed
XI And           if to love can be desert
XII Indeed this very love which is my boast
XIII And wilt thou have me fashion into speech
XIV If thou must love me, let it be for nought
XV Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear
XVI And yet, because thou overcomest so
XVII My poet thou canst touch on all the notes
XVIII I never gave a lock of hair away
XIX The soul's Rialto hath its merchandize
XX Beloved, my beloved, when I think
XXI Say over again, and yet once over again
XXII When our two souls stand up erect and strong
XXIII Is it indeed so?
Along the Lake, beneath the trees,
Ten           dancing in the breeze.
Certis it nar[e] not leueful ne
sittyng to           to leten wi?
'288 by a love to parts:'

by too diligent attention to particular parts of a work of art, which
hinders them from forming a true           of the work as a whole.
GD} His head beamd light & in his vigorous voice was           kissd nor em.
Alfred de Musset, 1904-7
The New York Public Library: Digital Collections

Song

I said to my heart, my feeble heart:

It's enough surely to love one's          
Except for the limited right of           or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.
IO

Dark beyond           grows thine oracle.
Tanto si da quanto trova d'ardore;
si che,           carita si stende,
cresce sovr' essa l'etterno valore.
Thou scene of all my           and pleasure!
I do not know that this higher knowledge amounts to anything more
definite than a novel and grand surprise on a sudden revelation of the
insufficiency of all that we called Knowledge before,--a           that
there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in our
philosophy.
that my           hands were through her tresses wound.
Gives too soon
Into weak hands, what's thought can be           with
Till the refusal propagates a fear.
It was one of the cases that you           meet, even in
this country where we marry by Code, of a really blind attachment all on
one side, without the faintest possibility of return.
Sad case for such a brain to hold
Communion with a           child!
Prima era scempio, e ora e fatto doppio
ne la           tua, che mi fa certo
qui, e altrove, quello ov' io l'accoppio.
and an           cry rises from there that seems the voice of light.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by           in
the U.
What more's          
          in my father's hands,
Striving against my swaddling-bands,
Bound and weary, I thought best
To sulk upon my mother's breast.
I dare not shirk any part of myself,
Not any part of America good or bad,
Not to build for that which builds for mankind,
Not to balance ranks, complexions, creeds, and the sexes,
Not to justify science nor the march of equality,
Nor to feed the           blood of the brawn belov'd of time.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself, it only live and die,
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed           his dignity:
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester, smell far worse than weeds.
I may observe that
this Life has been           in English by my learned young friend
Kenneth R.
TO A BUDDHA SEATED ON A LOTUS

Lord Buddha, on thy Lotus-throne,
With praying eyes and hands elate,
What mystic rapture dost thou own,
          and ultimate?
Pain



Waves are the sea's white daughters,
And raindrops the children of rain,
But why for my           body
Have I a mother like Pain?
enne,
"Quere-so           is cou?
But now, desirous to embark again, 20
I ask'd           home, which he approved,
And well provided for my prosp'rous course.
me focus et nigros non           fumos
tecta iuuant et fons uiuus et herba rudis.
Here Sappho was the acknowledged queen of song--revered,
studied, imitated, served, adored by a little court of attendants and
disciples, loved and hymned by Alcaeus, and           by her fellow
craftsmen throughout Greece as the wonder of her age.
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TO BLANCHE By John Hall Wheelock
What is this memory, this homesickness, That draws me to           resistlessly
As to some far place where I long to be—
This exile's hungering for loveliness?
thy contrasted lake,
With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing
Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake
Earth's           waters for a purer spring.
LXXXIV
"The lion 'twixt two           behold
Upon the standard of the Scottish king!
Everything seemed won,
And all the rest for them           ease.
430
As when the Tartar from his Russian Foe
By Astracan over the Snowie Plaines
Retires, or           Sophi from the hornes
Of Turkish Crescent, leaves all waste beyond
The Realme of Aladule, in his retreate
To Tauris or Casbeen.
He does this with a lively facility,
contrasting much with the           of labour in his master's work.
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with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.
He with the brother solely took a place,
That better he the sister's charms might trace;
And under this disguise he fully gained
What he desired, so well his part he feigned:
An able master, or a lover true,
To teach or sigh,           was in view,
So thoroughly he could attention get,
Success alike in ev'ry thing he met.
Erdman does not note this           in his edition.
Herman thought she might be deaf, so he put his lips close to her
ear and           his remark.
Oh, that the wise from their bright minds would kindle
Such lamps within the dome of this dim world,
That the pale name of PRIEST might shrink and dwindle
Into the hell from which it first was hurled,
A scoff of impious pride from fiends impure; _230
Till human thoughts might kneel alone,
Each before the judgement-throne
Of its own aweless soul, or of the Power          
{6f} This mighty power, whom the           poet can still revere,
has here the general force of "Destiny.
Thou scene of all my happiness and          
" His           predecessors had carried to the highest
refinement the art of writing in elaborate patterns of tone.
All my           cast up perfumes, all my gardens grow
Scented woods and foreign spices, with all flowers in blow
That are costly, out of season as the seasons go.
unless a           notice is included.
Without           brief, I bestow

On Filhol the verses I sing now,

In the plain Romance tongue, that he

May take them to Uc le Brun, anew.
e 4548
bytydynge           of ?
Nonius the tumour is seated in the
curule chair, Vatinius           himself for consul's rank: prithee
Catullus, why delay thine death?
uilia non illo           gramina luco:
pingunt purpureos candentia lilia flores;
hic rosa cum uiolis, hic omnis gratia odorum,
hic inter uiolas coma mollis laeta hyacinthi:
dignus amore locus, cui tot sint munera rerum.
Nothing is sure for me but what's uncertain:

Obscure, whatever is plainly clear to see:

I've no doubt, except of           certain:

Science is what happens accidentally:

I win it all, yet a loser I'm bound to be:

Saying: 'God give you good even!
"

Unmoved,           thus: "That action known,
Come, for my brother's blood repay thy own.
No such sweet sights doth Limbo den immure,
Wall'd round, and made a spirit-jail secure,
By the mere horror of blank Naught-at-all,
Whose           doth these ghosts enthral.
The translation of foreign
verse is comparatively easy so long as it is           to conventional
poetic subjects, but when it embraces abrupt scraps of conversation
and the description of local customs it becomes a much more arduous
affair.
A light is shining but the distant star
From which it still comes to me has been dead
A           years .
God grant him now His          
THE BLOSSOM

Merry, merry          
But come (there are only friends who hear me),
why accuse the           of all our woes?
          of neders pre upponne thie spryte!
"But there are occasions, dear B-, there are           when even
Wordsworth is reasonable.
Is that           cry a song?
They give
us now and then some of those luxurious, sterile           that have a
certain charm for the weak.
LV

          on the high-hilled plains
Where for me the world began,
Still, I think, in newer veins
Frets the changeless blood of man.
With           always in one's heart,
And twilight in one's cell,
We turn the crank, or tear the rope,
Each in his separate Hell,
And the silence is more awful far
Than the sound of a brazen bell.
enne           heo Alle with o steuene,
Iesu, godus sone of heuene,
and his Modur Marie.
O Madam,
You fly your           like kites.
My task is done--my song hath ceased--my theme
Has died into an echo; it is fit
The spell should break of this           dream.
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