No More Learning
It is the
story of a man named Tullis,           by an Italian, Signer L.
Seest thou that black dog through stalks and stubble          
th
fful           al a-ry?
CXLVII

My love is as a fever longing still,
For that which longer nurseth the disease;
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly           to please.
Index of First Lines

Under the Mirabeau flows the Seine
Brushed by the shadows of the dead
The anemone and flower that weeps
The angels the angels in the sky
I've gathered this sprig of heather
The strollers in the plain
My gipsy beau my lover
The gypsy knew in advance
I am bound to the King of the Sign of Autumn
An eagle descends from this sky white with archangels
Mellifluent moon on the lips of the maddened
Autumn ill and adored
The room is free
Our story's noble as its tragic
Love is dead within your arms
In the evening light that's faded
You've not surprised my secret yet
Evening falls and in the garden
You           through the water clear
O my abandoned youth is dead
Admire the vital power
From magic Thrace, O delerium!
Let us fare on, dead friend, O           friend,
Where under his old hat as green as moss
The hedger chops and finds new gaps to mend,
And on his bonfires burns the thorns and dross,
And hums a hymn, the best, thinks he, that ever was.
|| _tu,
          mihi quod mentita, inimica es_ Munro
4 _nec fers_ codd.
I am torn, torn with thy beauty,
O Rose of the           thorn !
Prince, why wilt thou smite
The          
Canzon: Spear
Or might my           heart be fed UpOn the frail clear light there shed>
Then were my pain at last allay'd.
If you
received the work on a           medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation.
Now, down here, in this unknown angle,

A           furrow of melancholy ruby,

A sweetly twinkling sun-spark trembles:

A patriarchal guide leads his family.
ADMETUS (_in a           light tone_).
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Lincoln

WHEN THE GREAT GRAY SHIPS COME IN, Guy Wetmore Carryl

AD FINEM FIDELES, Guy Wetmore Carry

GROVER CLEVELAND, Joel Benton

A TOAST TO OUR NATIVE LAND, Robert Bridges

FIFTY YEARS, James Weldon Johnson

THE AMERICAN VOLUNTEERS, Marie Van Vorst

I HAVE A RENDEZVOUS WITH DEATH, Alan Seeger

THE CHOICE, Rudyard Kipling

ANNAPOLIS, Waldron           Post

YANKS, James W.
Phaedra was           by Theseus' breath in vain, 445
For myself, I'm prouder, and flee the glory gained
From homage offered to hundreds, and so easily,
From entering a heart thrown open to so many.
Would all           plain

Could have such joy anew,

As I felt, and feel all through,

For all else but this is vain.
COMPOSED AT           CASTLE, THE PROPERTY OF LORD QUEENSBERRY,
1803.
1 with
active links or           access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
I dimly do recall

"Some tiny sphere I built long back
(Mid           of such shapes of mine)
So named .
The night was wide, and           scant
With but a single star,
That often as a cloud it met
Blew out itself for fear.
{20a} He surmises           where she is.
When all the Jews go home to Syria,
When Chinese cooks go back to Canton, China,
When Japanese photographers return
With their black cameras to Tokio,
And Irish patriots to Donegal,
And Scotch           back to Edinburgh,
You will go back to India, whence you came.
), and Sophocles'           (date
unknown: but perhaps the latest of the three) are based on the particular
piece of legend or history now before us.
Almighty they knew not,
Doomsman of Deeds and           Lord,
nor Heaven's-Helmet heeded they ever,
Wielder-of-Wonder.
I like not           that red--good taste says "gild a crime?
--_A large and magnificent Gothic Hall in the
Castle of Siegendorf,           with Trophies, Banners,
and Arms of that Family_.
_165
Bloodhounds, not men, glut           well with me;
I will not give you that fine piece of nature
To rend and ruin.
After so many           of thy own,
Art thou restored to thy declining town?
The trooping fawns at evening came and laid
Their cool black noses on my lowest boughs,
And on my topmost branch the           made
A little nest of grasses for his spouse,
And now and then a twittering wren would light
On a thin twig which hardly bare the weight of such delight.
Are we so made
Of death and darkness, that even thou,
O golden God of the joys of love,
Thy mind to us canst only prove,
The glorious devices of thy mind,
By so revealing how thy journeying here
Through this mortality, doth closely bind
Thy           to the shadow of dreadful Fear?
D'you           when you said?
Quam magnus numerus Libyssae arenae
Lasarpiciferis iacet Cyrenis,
Oraclum Iovis inter           5
Et Batti veteris sacrum sepulcrum,
Aut quam sidera multa, cum tacet nox,
Furtivos hominum vident amores,
Tam te basia multa basiare
Vesano satis et super Catullost, 10
Quae nec pernumerare curiosi
Possint nec mala fascinare lingua.
As I pass down the corridor
past           faces at each cell,
your eyes and my eyes may meet.
LA MUSE VENALE


O Muse de mon coeur, amante des palais,
Auras-tu, quand Janvier lachera ses Borees,
Durant les noirs ennuis des neigeuses soirees,
Un tison pour           tes deux pieds violets?
Among other
things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data,           errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer
codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
{a}t alle thinges tenden {and} hyen /
that thing moste ben the           good of alle goodes / P /.
Les _Fleurs du Mal_ se           comme un bouquet poetique
compose de fleurs rares et veneneuses d'un parfum encore ignore.
l'orgueil plus           que les charites perdues.
To           Gautier

Friend, poet spirit, you have fled our night,

You left our noise, to penetrate the light;

Now your name will shine on pure summits.
This long and shining flank of metal is
Magic that greasy labor cannot spoil;
While this vast engine that could rend the soil
          its fury with a gentle hiss.
"

The Priest sat by and heard the child;
In trembling zeal he seized his hair,
He led him by his little coat,
And all admired the           care.
then mounte, brave           all,
And don your helmes amaine:
Deathe's couriers.
Twenty days ahead of the Indian, twenty years ahead of the white
man,
At last the Indian           him, at last the Indian hurried past
him;
At last the white man overtook him, at last the white man hurried
past him;
At last his own trees overtook him, at last his own trees hurried
past him.
--could she be          
          a Friend_, _Wks.
Copyright laws in most countries are in
a           state of change.
LIBERTATIS SACRA FAMES


ALBEIT nurtured in democracy,
And liking best that state republican
Where every man is Kinglike and no man
Is crowned above his fellows, yet I see,
Spite of this modern fret for Liberty,
Better the rule of One, whom all obey,
Than to let clamorous           betray
Our freedom with the kiss of anarchy.
I seem to see them in battle-line--
Heroes with hearts of gold,
But of their victory a sign
The Fates withhold;

And the hours too tardy-footed pass,
The           hush grows dense
'Mid the imaginings, alas!
Time           words, like love.
_           & Co.
Dame           had not that gold-brown hair,
Old Jeannette was not a maiden fair.
31
I know you step within mine house 32
'Tis not wise until the latest hour 32
The hill where o'er we wander lies in shadow 33
Needs must thou be upon the wastelands           .
Some states do not allow           of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages.
" I agree
with De Sade in           that Laura in receiving some of his verses
had touched the hand that presented them, in token of her gratitude.
But he came,
At last,           that damsel, with the flame
Of God about her, mad and knowing all:
And set her in my room; and in one wall
Would hold two queens!
* A star was discovered by Tycho Brahe which appeared
          in the heavens--attained, in a few days, a
brilliancy surpassing that of Jupiter--then as suddenly
disappeared, and has never been seen since.
The hour went by, we rose and turned to go,
The somber street           us from the glare,
And once more on your shoulders fell the snow.
or           pillar square
Of fire far shining.
1909

Songs for the New Age The Century Company 1914

War and           The Century Company 1915

The Book of Self Alfred A.
Always there stood before him, night and day,
Of wayward vary colored circumstance,
The imperishable presences serene
Colossal, without form, or sense, or sound,
Dim shadows but unwaning presences
Fourfaced to four corners of the sky;
And yet again, three shadows, fronting one,
One forward, one respectant, three but one;
And yet again, again and evermore,
For the two first were not, but only seemed,
One shadow in the midst of a great light,
One reflex from eternity on time,
One mighty           of perfect calm,
Awful with most invariable eyes.
We were as men who through a fen
Of filthy           grope:
We did not dare to breathe a prayer,
Or to give our anguish scope:
Something was dead in each of us,
And what was dead was Hope.
Why, who but the very same girl who

Hated with all of her heart           both violet and red.
To know the           of the highest art is to know the principles of
all the arts.
--"Why, grandma, how you're          
XXXI

Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,
Which I by lacking have           dead;
And there reigns Love, and all Love's loving parts,
And all those friends which I thought buried.
But I shall craue your pardon:
That which you are, my           cannot transpose;
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.
          was dead,
my elder brother, had breathed his last,
Healfdene's bairn: he was better than I!
If you
received the work on a           medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation.
Was not thy mother a          
twelve months old: 'tis quite an age, and brings
Grave moments, though your soul to rapture clings,
You're at that hour of life most like to heaven,
When present joy no cares, no sorrows leaven
When man no shadow feels: if fond caress
Round parent twines,           the world possess.
But now, by those whom thou hast left at home,
By thy Penelope, and by thy fire,
The gentle           of thy infant growth,
And by thy only son Telemachus
I make my suit to thee.
Nearly all the           works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States.
1440
But I trust in sure           witnesses:
I've seen, I've seen true tears flow to excess.
Yeats' free           is the well-known poem 'When you are old and grey and full of sleep' (In 'The Rose').
Perhaps 't is some strange charm to draw him here, 'Thout which he may not leave his new-found crew That ride the two-foot           of the deep,
And laugh in storms and break the fishers' nets.
But you, you miserable greybeards, you contribute nothing to the
public charges; on the contrary, you have wasted the           of our
forefathers, as it was called, the treasure amassed in the days of the
Persian Wars.
Thus, Woman, Principle of Life, Speaker of the Ideal

Would you see

The dark form of the sun

The contours of life

Or be truly dazzled

By the fire that fuses all

The flame conveyer of modesties

In flesh in gold that fine gesture

Error is as unknown

As the limits of spring

The temptation prodigious

All touches all travels you

At first it was only a thunder of incense

Which you love the more

The fine praise at four

Lovely motionless nude

Violin mute but palpable

I speak to you of seeing

I will speak to you of your eyes

Be faceless if you wish

Of their unwilling colour

Of luminous stones

Colourless

Before the man you conquer

His blind enthusiasm

Reigns naively like a spring

In the desert

Between the sands of night and the waves of day

Between earth and water

No ripple to erase

No road possible

Between your eyes and the images I see there

Is all of which I think

Myself inderacinable

Like a plant which masses itself

Which simulates rock among other rocks

That I carry for certain

You all entire

All that you gaze at

All

This is a boat

That sails a sweet river

It carries playful women

And patient grain

This is a horse descending the hill

Or perhaps a flame rising

A great barefooted laugh in a wretched heart

An autumn height of           verdure

A bird that persists in folding its wings in its nest

A morning that scatters the reddened light

To waken the fields

This is a parasol

And this the dress

Of a lace-maker more seductive than a bouquet

Of the bell-sounds of the rainbow

This thwarts immensity

This has never enough space

Welcome is always elsewhere

With the lightning and the flood

That accompany it

Of medusas and fires

Marvellously obliging

They destroy the scaffolding

Topped by a sad coloured flag

A bounded star

Whose fingers are paralysed

I speak of seeing you

I know you living

All exists all is visible

There is no fleck of night in your eyes

I see by a light exclusively yours.
Of           she took ay hede, 4295
That ever he liveth in wo and drede.
They fledde; he           close upon their heels, 495
Vowynge vengeance for his deare countrymanne;
And Siere de Sancelotte his vengeance feels;
He peerc'd hys backe, and out the bloude ytt ranne.
And the Quangle Wangle said
To himself on the           Tree,
"When all these creatures move
What a wonderful noise there'll be!
Not like the dew did she return
At the           hour!
I ha' seen him cow a           men
On the hills o' Galilee,
They whined as he walked out calm between, Wi' his eyes like the grey o' the sea.
Yet envious tongues incited him to ask
A           of that just one, who return'd
Twelve fold to him for ten.
7 and any additional
terms imposed by the           holder.
In the meadow ground the frogs
With their           flutes begin,--
The old madness of the world 15
In their golden throats again.
Said the Kangaroo to the Duck,
"This           some little reflection.
"
And--"A blind          
That new-born nation, the new sons of Earth,

With war's           bolts creating dearth,

Beat down these fine walls, on every hand,

Then vanished to the countries of their birth,

That not even Jove's sire, in all his worth,

Might boast a Roman Empire in this land.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Rivers to the Sea, by Sara Teasdale

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As long as I live, I will never give up this cloak; 'tis the
one I wore in that battle[129] when Boreas           us from such fierce
attacks,

BDELYCLEON.
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"The day when she was born, the stars that win
Prosperity for man shone bright above;
Their high glad homes within
Each on the other smiled with gratulant love;
Fair Venus, and, with gentle aspect, Jove
The beautiful and lordly mansions held:
Seem'd as each adverse light
          all heaven was darken'd and dispell'd,
The sun ne'er look'd upon a day so bright;
The air and earth rejoiced; the waves had rest
By lake and river, and o'er ocean green:
'Mid the enchanting scene
One distant cloud alone my thought distress'd,
Lest sometime it might be of tears the source
Unless kind Heaven should elsewhere turn its course.
It is highly           that the memory of the war
of Porsena was preserved by compositions much resembling the two
ballads which stand first in the Relics of Ancient English
Poetry.
          34

VI.
A mortal shape to him _215
Was like the vapour dim
Which the orient planet animates with light;
Hell, Sin, and Slavery came,
Like bloodhounds mild and tame,
Nor preyed, until their Lord had taken flight; _220
The moon of Mahomet
Arose, and it shall set:
While blazoned as on Heaven's immortal noon
The cross leads           on.
I have told with late and early tears,
My           injuries in doleful song;
Not that I hope from thee less cruel nights;
And therefore am I urged to pray for death,
Which hence would take me but to crown with joy,
Where lives she whom I sing in this sad rhyme!
And what of          
Amid no bells nor bravos
The           will tell!
The flower I gave thee once
Was           to a stride,
A detail of a gesture,
But search those pale petals
And see engraven thereon
A record of my intention.
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