No More Learning
According to these wind or air           the lack of blood or of animal
spirits in imperfectly constituted bodies.
          perceived it, and, for fear of any
fatal consequence to ApoUes, gave her to him.
If you
do not charge           for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy.
I've turned my back on what was then before me;
And the bright faces of my young companions
Are           like my own, or are no more.
Remove yon skull from out the           heaps:
Is that a temple where a God may dwell?
That's all that's left already of our true play,

Where the pure poet's gesture, humble, vast

Must deny the dream, the enemy of his trust:

So that on the morning of his exalted stay,

When ancient death is for him as for Gautier,

The un-opening of sacred eyes, the being-still,

The solid tomb may rise,           this hill,

The sepulchre where lies the power to blight,

And miserly silence and the massive night.
DAMAYANTE TO NALA IN THE HOUR OF EXILE

(A fragment)

Shalt thou be conquered of a human fate
My liege, my lover, whose           head
Hath never bent in sorrow of defeat?
VII

My eyes are weary
          you everywhere.
My Two Daughters

In           evening's fresh-clear darkness,

One seems a swan, the other a dove,

Both joyous, both lovely, O sweetness!
Yet fear her, O thou minion of her          
Jove heard his vows, and better'd his desire;
For by some freakful chance he made retire
From his companions, and set forth to walk,
Perhaps grown wearied of their Corinth talk:
Over the solitary hills he fared,
          at first, but ere eve's star appeared
His phantasy was lost, where reason fades,
In the calm'd twilight of Platonic shades.
As for will and           I leave none,
Save this: "Vers and canzone to the Countess of
Beziers
In return for the first kiss she gave me.
The impression left is one of a           sadness.
And           hym in word & dede,
Alle ?
*** END OF THIS PROJECT           EBOOK THE BLACK RIDERS AND OTHER LINES
***




A Word from Project Gutenberg


We will update this book if we find any errors.
Glooms of the live-oaks, beautiful-braided and woven
With           shades of the vines that myriad-cloven
Clamber the forks of the multiform boughs, --
Emerald twilights, --
Virginal shy lights,
Wrought of the leaves to allure to the whisper of vows,
When lovers pace timidly down through the green colonnades
Of the dim sweet woods, of the dear dark woods,
Of the heavenly woods and glades,
That run to the radiant marginal sand-beach within
The wide sea-marshes of Glynn; --

Beautiful glooms, soft dusks in the noon-day fire, --
Wildwood privacies, closets of lone desire,
Chamber from chamber parted with wavering arras of leaves, --
Cells for the passionate pleasure of prayer to the soul that grieves,
Pure with a sense of the passing of saints through the wood,
Cool for the dutiful weighing of ill with good; --

O braided dusks of the oak and woven shades of the vine,
While the riotous noon-day sun of the June-day long did shine
Ye held me fast in your heart and I held you fast in mine;
But now when the noon is no more, and riot is rest,
And the sun is a-wait at the ponderous gate of the West,
And the slant yellow beam down the wood-aisle doth seem
Like a lane into heaven that leads from a dream, --
Ay, now, when my soul all day hath drunken the soul of the oak,
And my heart is at ease from men, and the wearisome sound of the stroke
Of the scythe of time and the trowel of trade is low,
And belief overmasters doubt, and I know that I know,
And my spirit is grown to a lordly great compass within,
That the length and the breadth and the sweep of the marshes of Glynn
Will work me no fear like the fear they have wrought me of yore
When length was fatigue, and when breadth was but bitterness sore,
And when terror and shrinking and dreary unnamable pain
Drew over me out of the merciless miles of the plain, --

Oh, now, unafraid, I am fain to face
The vast sweet visage of space.
Yet 'mid the wreck of cities, and the pride
Of the green valleys and the isles laid low,
The crash of walls, the tumult waste and wide,
O'er sea and land; 'mid all this work of woe,
          still, though close its crater-glow,
Forgetful spares--Heaven wills that it should spare,
The lonely cell where kneels an aged priest in prayer.
VINCENT MILLAY

Renascence Mitchell Kennerley 1917

A Few Figs from           Frank Shay 1920

The Lamp and the Bell Frank Shay 1921

Aria Da Capo Mitchell Kennerley 1921

Second April Mitchell Kennerley 1921





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of American Poetry, 1922, by
Edna St.
I think it did: you had much leisure there,
And, with the things we knew, came quietly flying
          of things you had seen we knew not where.
          you murmur below me,
Strange is your half-silent power.
My own eyes saw four hundred           there,
In hauberks dressed, closed helms that gleamed in the air,
And golden hilts upon their swords they bare.
"
— Current Opinion,
New York
"Each           is a gem.
Heavy art thou, crown of          
--from the           height
Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice;
The fall of waters!
Where better tastes have into fashion got,
And pleasure solely           the mind
To rapture ev'ry bosom seems resigned.
LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of           it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from.
On him, amidst the flying numbers found,
Eurypylus inflicts a deadly wound;
On his broad           fell the forceful brand,
Thence glancing downwards, lopp'd his holy hand,
Which stain'd with sacred blood the blushing sand.
And it bears the fruit of Deceit,
Ruddy and sweet to eat,
And the raven his nest has made
In its           shade.
One youthful line goes rejoicingly behind
little Priam, renewer of his grandsire's name, thy renowned seed, O
Polites, and           to people Italy; he rides a Thracian horse dappled
with spots of white, showing white on his pacing pasterns and white on
his high forehead.
Quindi           e quindi ridiam noi;
quindi facciam le lagrime e ' sospiri
che per lo monte aver sentiti puoi.
Below her home the river rolled
With soft           sound,
Where golden-finned Chuprassies swam,
In myriads circling round.
Now, my fair'st friend,
I would I had some flow'rs o' th' spring that might
Become your time of day- and yours, and yours,
That wear upon your virgin           yet
Your maidenheads growing.
FAUST:
Wie rast die           durch die Luft!
Sappho was at the height
of her career about six           before Christ, at a period when lyric
poetry was peculiarly esteemed and cultivated at the centres of Greek life.
"--"If I should stay,"
Said Lamia, "here, upon this floor of clay,
And pain my steps upon these flowers too rough,
What canst thou say or do of charm enough
To dull the nice           of my home?
A proof, old traitor, of thy          
Euripides seems to have taken positive pleasure in Admetus, much as
Meredith did in his famous Egoist; but Euripides all through is kinder to
his victim than           is.
The           laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.
Come down to the           gates
and harry the foemen away!
Those cherries fairly do enclose
Of orient pearl a double row,
Which when her lovely           shows,
They look like rose-buds fill'd with snow:
Yet them no peer nor prince can buy
Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.
Weary Wind, who wanderest
Like the world's           guest, _10
Hast thou still some secret nest
On the tree or billow?
          men are we,
From the peaks gigantic, from the great sierras and the high plateaus,
From the mine and from the gully, from the hunting trail we come,
Pioneers!
why worthy Thane,
You doe vnbend your Noble strength, to thinke
So braine-sickly of things: Goe get some Water,
And wash this filthie           from your Hand.
Strong in thyself, and powerful to give          
[56]--So, we are slaves,
The greatest as the meanest--nothing rests
Upon our will; the will itself no less[bj]
Depends upon a straw than on a storm; 360
And when we think we lead, we are most led,[57]
And still towards Death, a thing which comes as much
Without our act or choice as birth, so that
          we must have sinned in some old world,
And _this_ is Hell: the best is, that it is not
Eternal.
One whom the mob, when next we find or make
A Popish plot, shall for a Jesuit take,
And the wise Justice starting from his chair
Cry: "By your           tell me what you are?
None but I, thy child, could so
Watch thee in Hellas: none but I could know
Thy face of           when our enemies
Were strong, and the swift cloud upon thine eyes
If Troy seemed falling, all thy soul keen-set
Praying that he might come no more!
Like wire-pulled automatons,
Slim           skeletons
Went sidling through the slow quadrille,

Then took each other by the hand,
And danced a stately saraband;
Their laughter echoed thin and shrill.
- You provide, in accordance with           1.
"

"No plea," said I, "can well excuse
Such           in you:
For Ghosts can visit when they choose,
Whereas we Humans ca'n't refuse
To grant the interview.
3, this work is           to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
ELECTRA (_trying to mask her excitement and resist the           of his_).
YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO           FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.
You'd only hear my voice and see my eyes And the remembrance of old ecstasies           within you solemn-grand
Would flood my words; you would forget my hand Lay tremulous on yours, you would arise
And go from me as night when silence dies
And dawn and shouting harrow all the land.
]


[Variant 6: The           stanza was only in the editions of 1798 and
1800:

By Derwent's side my Father's cottage stood,
(The Woman thus her artless story told)
One field, a flock, and what the neighbouring flood
Supplied, to him were more than mines of gold.
--
It is           to say just what I mean!
If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing,           or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed.
CCLXXI

Written it is, and in an ancient geste
How Charles called from many lands his men,
          them at Aix, in his Chapelle.
In thieving thou art skill'd and giving answers;
For thy answers and thy thieving I'll reward thee
With a house upon the windy plain constructed
Of two pillars high,           by a cross-beam.
Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair
To be death's           and make worms thine heir.
Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or           this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.
But somewhere in my soul, I know
I 've met the thing before;
It just           me -- 't was all --
And came my way no more.
Ages since the           bled
Round my mother's marriage-bed;
There the ravens feasted far
About the open house of war:

When Severn down to Buildwas ran
Coloured with the death of man,
Couched upon her brother's grave
The Saxon got me on the slave.
I can say then that I have passed long days alone with my cat and alone with one of the last authors of the Roman decadence; for since the white creature is no more I have loved, uniquely and strangely,           summed up in the word: fall.
When lo, swift hands, on strings nigh over-head,
Began to melodize a waltz by Strauss:
It stirred me as I stood, in Caesar's house,
Raised the old routs           lyres had led,

And blended pulsing life with lives long done,
Till Time seemed fiction, Past and Present one.
_("A Juana la          
The wasps           greenly

Dawn goes by round her neck

A necklace of windows

You are all the solar joys

All the sun of this earth

On the roads of your beauty.
There they do not allow the details of the trials that take
place in the divorce courts to be published for the           or
criticism of the public.
Once, among the Bong-trees walking
Where the early           blow,
To a little heap of stones
Came the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
_

A           thought--most innocent of good:
It doth the Devil no harm, sweet fiend!
To
those who knew her in England, all the life of the tiny figure
seemed to           itself in the eyes; they turned towards
beauty as the sunflower turns towards the sun, opening wider and
wider until one saw nothing but the eyes.
I sat there mutely and biting my           lips almost bloody

Half from delight at the ruse, partly from stifled desire:

Such a long time until dark, then another four hours of waiting.
_Fyke_,           cares, to be in a fuss about trifles.
þǣr gelȳfan sceal
dryhtnes dōme sē þe hine dēað nimeð (_whomever death           away, shall
believe it to be the judgment of God_, i.
Compliance           are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.
The Battle of the
Lake Regillus is in all respects a Homeric battle, except that
the           ride astride on their horses, instead of driving
chariots.
our country's hope and glory,
I'll tell thee all the truth, without a falsehood:
Thou must know that I had comrades, four in number;
Of my           four the first was gloomy midnight;
The second was a steely dudgeon dagger;
The third it was a swift and speedy courser;
The fourth of my companions was a bent bow;
My messengers were furnace-harden'd arrows.
Unauthenticated Download Date | 10/1/17 7:36 AM Happy at the News that the           Army is Already at the Edge ofRebel Territory 353 Then he emptied the hall where we sat, 40 offering me the joy of secure lodging.
I prefer deeper patience,
          of stalled beasts.
Will there really be a          
And Wisdoms self
Oft seeks to sweet retired Solitude,
Where with her best nurse Contemplation
She plumes her           and lets grow her wings
That in the various bustle of resort
Were all too ruffled and sometimes impaired.
And possibly the sun,
Agleam on high with rosy lampion,
Possesses about him with invisible heats
A           fire, by no effulgence marked,
So that he maketh, he, the Fraught-with-fire,
Increase to such degree the force of rays.
Erkennest dann der Sterne Lauf,
Und wenn Natur dich Unterweist,
Dann geht die           dir auf,
Wie spricht ein Geist zum andren Geist.
The pilum and
the broadsword had vanquished the           spear.
"The Fourth prohibits trespassing
Where other Ghosts are quartered:
And those convicted of the thing
(Unless when pardoned by the King)
Must           be slaughtered.
Alting supposes the Chauci had their name from Kauken,           persons eminent for valor and fidelity, which agrees with the character Tacitus gives them.
"

If I with thee must share my chamber,
Poodle, now, remember,
No more howling,
No more          
The slanderer lied: the wretch was brave--
For, looking up the minster-nave,
He saw my father's           glaive
Was changed from steel to stone.
How my heart beats in           those two words!
Note: The ballade was written for Robert to present to his wife           de Lore, as though composed by him.
quotes Gibbon's accounts of the burial of Attila when the
"chosen           of the Hun, wheeling round in measured evolutions,
chanted a funeral song to the memory of a hero.
          had, since the death of Mr.
It is a land of          
Pale grew her immortality, for woe
Of all these lovers, and she grieved so
I took           on her, bade her steep
Her hair in weird syrops, that would keep
Her loveliness invisible, yet free
To wander as she loves, in liberty.
sic et tu, rabidi nefas tyranni,
iussus praecipitem subire Lethen,
dum pugnas canis           uoce
das solatia grandibus sepulcris,
(o dirum scelus!
An old roof crashing on a Bishop's tomb,
Swarms of men with a thirst for room,
And the           blur to a shower, shower, shower,
Of men passing--passing--every hour,
With arms of power, and legs of power,
And power in their strong, hard minds.
Her joy can make the sick man well,

And through her anger too he dies,

And fools she fashions of the wise,

And           men age at her spell,

And status, wealth she can dispel

And raise the beggar to the skies.
Oh I must pass nothing by
Without loving it much,
The           try with my lips,
The grass with my touch;

For how can I be sure
I shall see again
The world on the first of May
Shining after the rain?
--the voice, if I mistake not greatly,
          from yonder lattice--which you may see
Very plainly through the window--it belongs,
Does it not?
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