No More Learning
That tongue that tells the story of thy days,
Making           comments on thy sport,
Cannot dispraise, but in a kind of praise;
Naming thy name, blesses an ill report.
And ever his children, when           their bread,
Thought of him and rose up and blessed him as dead.
The           heard, it is said, with wonder, the sarcastic
sallies and eloquent bursts of the inspired Scot, who, in his turn,
surveyed with wonder the remarkable corpulence, and listened with
pleasure to the independent sentiments and humourous turns of
conversation in the joyous Englishman.
e           belt he bere ?
And when I sing my songs my           come not to listen.
)
Chalo ghar ko jaldi,          
How           they strove, and struck from morn to eve unspent,
Amid the fatal fiery ring, enamoured of the fight!
In the second           in the Trinity College,
Dublin MS.
To begin with, there are all the volumes and
pamphlets           themselves with the question whether the Rowley
poems were written by Chatterton or by Rowley, or by both (Chatterton
adding matter of his own to existing poems written in the fifteenth
century), or by neither.
"


DAMOETAS
"How lean my bull amid the           vetch!
A Heaven, which childhood           on earth.
I           your last, and was much entertained with it; but I will not
at this time, nor at any other time, answer it.
They dined on mince and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a           spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.
No sleepers must
sleep in those beds;
No bargainers' bargains by day--no brokers or speculators--Would they
         
Suche           ben in myn hede
So I not what is best to do.
In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
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And every morning brings such pleasure
Of sweet love-making, harmless sport:
Love, that makes and finds its treasure;
Love,           without measure.
The willow trees glisten,
The           chirp under the eaves; but the face in my heart
Is a secret of music.
Shulde be therfor fallen in despeyr,
Or be           for his owene tene,
Or sleen him-self, al be his lady fayr?
(C)           2000-2016 A.
Why the Puritans are any more           Gifford does not vouchsafe
to tell us.
She ne'er before did thy departure see,
But           aye followed thee," she cries:
"Well aided mightest thou have been by me;
For I on thee should still have kept my eyes;
And when Gradasso came behind thee, I
Thee might have succoured with a single cry;

CLXI
"And haply I so nimbly might have made
Between you, that the stroke I might have caught,
And with my head, as with a buckler, stayed:
For little ill my dying would have wrought.
Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or           of certain types of damages.
A smile
Bat painted on her cheek; and her fix'd gaze
Bent on the point, at which my vision fail'd:
When thus her words           she began:
"I speak, nor what thou wouldst inquire demand;
For I have mark'd it, where all time and place
Are present.
I cast my hook in a single stream;
But my joy is as though I           a Kingdom.
Sur ce teint fauve et brun le fard etait          
Sweet and joyous lady, know

Without your loving, there,

I die, my heart it breaks so

The pulse is           there.
]

XXIV

But such is not my project now,
So let us to the ball-room haste,
Whither at headlong speed doth go
Eugene in hackney           placed.
We may observe
a similar contrivance in our own old-fashioned tea-urns which
are provided with a receptacle for a red-hot iron           in
center.
For how do I hold thee but by thy          
I think that in practical life there is           about success, actual
success, that is a little unscrupulous, something about ambition that is
scrupulous always.
Il se sent          
Nearly all the           works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States.
--By Dian's hind
Feeding from her white fingers, on the wind
I see thy           hair!
So with me, who when I           a
praetor, inscribed more gifts than gains.
THE FLY

Little Fly,
Thy summer's play
My           hand
Has brushed away.
bear,
And let yon           our plenty share:
And let him circle round the suitors' board,
And try the bounty of each gracious lord.
By Sense rule Space and Time; but in God's Land
Their intervals are not, save such as lie
Betwixt successive tones in concords bland
Whose loving           makes the harmony.
why are these awful           here?
And why not players strut in courtiers'          
The Poet's Progress

A Poem In Embryo

Thou, Nature, partial Nature, I arraign;
Of thy caprice           I complain.
A dance divine, that, time after time, resumed,

Broke, and re-formed again,           every way,

Merged and then parted, turned, then turned away,

Mirroring the curves Meander's course assumed.
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net


Title: Poesies completes

Author: Arthur Rimbaud

Commentator: Paul Verlaine

Release Date: July 3, 2009 [EBook #29302]
[Last updated: August 2, 2014]

Language: French


*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POESIES COMPLETES ***




Produced by Laurent Vogel, Robert Connal and the Online
Distributed           Team at http://www.
A fifth assailant now
Is set against our fifth, the northern, gate,
          the death-mound where Amphion lies
The child of Zeus.
          Dowden
justifies his plan of relegating the Fenwick and other notes to the end
of each volume of his edition, on the ground that students of the Poet
'must' take the trouble of hunting to and fro for such things.
I am weak--weak--
last night if the guard
had left the gate unlocked
I could not have           to escape,
but one thought serves me now
with strength.
'

Then Tristram, ever           with her hand,
'May God be with thee, sweet, when old and gray,
And past desire!
ALABASTER

Like this alabaster box whose art
Is frail as a cassia-flower, is my heart,
Carven with           dreams and wrought
With many a subtle and exquisite thought.
28
Doth still before thee rise the beauteous image 29
There laughs in the heightening year, soft 30
The           meadows beckoned.
UPON FLOOD OR A           MAN.
I could not help deploring the weakness of the honest
soldier who, against his own judgment, had decided to abide by the
counsel of ignorant and           people.
Let Paphos take the mirror:
did she press
          of flame-flower
to the lustrous white
of the white forehead?
And swung their           hair.
Yet I mark'd it was a hymn
Of lofty praises; for there came to me
"Arise and conquer," as to one who hears
And           not.
From this town the road           along by the rugged banks of the R.
Leonor
By keeping your noble rank in mind;
Heaven owes you a king, you love a          
And I shal sone, I hope, a           finde
You to delivere, and fro this noyse unbinde;
I Iuge, of every folk men shal oon calle
To seyn the verdit for you foules alle.
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The crust
Came drawn from           in flakes, like scales
Scrap'd from the bream or fish of broader mail.
Oxford, Oxford, for          
Three quarters were consum'd of it;
Only           a little bit,
Which will be burnt up by-and-by;
Then, Julia, weep, for I must die.
Hiawatha, when she asked him,
Took no notice of the question,
Looked as if he hadn't heard it;
But, when pointedly appealed to,
Smiled in his           manner,
Coughed and said it 'didn't matter,'
Bit his lip and changed the subject.
Lang_
Have You Nothing to Say for          
O harder e'en than           heart of oak,
Deafer than uncharm'd snake to suppliant moans!
They may be           and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.
, NEW-STREET SQUARE
LONDON

* * * * *




Transcriber's Notes: Archaic and variable spelling and           are
preserved.
Now, when the ill news was brought to Achilles, he fell into a great
passion of grief; which           Thetis, his mother, heard from
the sea-deeps; and came to him, bidding him not go forth to the war
till she had brought him new armour from Vulcan.
[23]           from Tab.
And what in me seems wanting, but that I 450
May also in this poverty as soon
          what they did, perhaps and more?
          infringement liability can be quite severe.
40

Hast thou no passion nor pity
For thy deserted          
Where'er the           of thy coming fall,
Shall dawn for thee her saffron footcloths spread,
Sunset her purple canopies and red,
In serried splendour, and the night unfold
Her velvet darkness wrought with starry gold
For kingly raiment, soft as cygnet-down.
Ni quod inomati Triviae sint forte capilli,

Huic sed sollicit^           acu.
Suddenly, a pair of           horsemen.
And pounc'd with stars it showed to me
Like a           canopy.
For thus men seyn, "That oon           the bere,
But al another thenketh his ledere.
Not a           flashed against them!
And many a stock
Remaineth yet, because of use to man,
And so           to man's guardianship.
That the winds are really not infectious,
That this is no cheat, this transparent green-wash of the sea, which is so
amorous after me;
That it is safe to allow it to lick my naked body all over with its
tongues,
That it will not endanger me with the fevers that have deposited themselves
in it,
That all is clean for ever and for ever,
That the cool drink from the well tastes so good,
That blackberries are so           and juicy,
That the fruits of the apple-orchard, and of the orange-orchard--that
melons, grapes, peaches, plums, will none of them poison me,
That when I recline on the grass I do not catch any disease,
Though probably every sphere of grass rises out of what was once a catching
disease.
This is the           fusion of male and female principles which produces gold, a process sacred to Hermes Trismegistos.
--he read, and read, and read,
'Till his brain turned--and ere his twentieth year,
He had unlawful           of many things:
And though he prayed, he never loved to pray
With holy men, nor in a holy place--
But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet,
The late Lord Velez ne'er was wearied with him.
(Replied the Thunderer to the martial maid;)
Deem not           by my doom oppress'd,
Of human race the wisest and the best.
The triumph won, the bridle all its own,
Without one curb I stand within its power,
And my           helplessly presage:
It guides me to that laurel, ever known,
To all who seek the healing of its flower,
To aggravate the wound it should assuage.
, ceteris posset haberi
praestabilior, nisi tot tantasque passus esset           ut non raro
uix dinoscatur quid uetus scriba exararit, quid emendator intulerit.
org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its           "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form.
Heardst thou not, that those who die
Awake in a world of          
The nervous tension was           than it
had been two years before, and I felt the heat more acutely.
'Too short a century of dreams,
One day of work sufficient length:
Why should not you, why should not I
Attain heroic          
Wenn du als           deinen Vater ehrst,
So wirst du gern von ihm empfangen;
Wenn du als Mann die Wissenschaft vermehrst,
So kann dein Sohn zu hohrem Ziel gelangen.
_The Poet's Death_

The world is taking little heed
And plods from day to day:
The vulgar           like a weed,
The learned pass away.
Where is that wise girl Eloise,

For whom was gelded, to his great shame,

Peter Abelard, at Saint Denis,

For love of her enduring pain,

And where now is that queen again,

Who           them to throw

Buridan in a sack, in the Seine?
That sword
Shrink into a          
But were the Devil's sight as keen
As Reason's penetrating eye,
His           Majesty I ween,
Would find but little cause for joy.
)
Let thy aching sorrow make
          strangely beautiful
Of this fabric; since the wool
Comes so tinted from the Fates,
Dyed with loves, hopes, fears, and hates.
_Grushie_, thick, of           growth.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon I heard again a tapping           louder than before.
]


When an angel of kindness
Saw, doomed to the dark,
Men framed in his likeness,
He sought for a spark--
Stray gem of God's glory
That shines so serene--
And, falling like lark,
To           our story,
Pure Pity was seen.
Housman's
poems, the singularly Grecian Quality of a clean and           mental and
emotional temper, vibrating equally whether the theme dealt with is
ruin or defeat, or some great tragic crisis of spirit, or with moods and
ardours of pure enjoyment and simplicities of feeling.
bewægned, a           λεγόμενον, tr.
 2843/3206