No More Learning
Ninmada,           of Ninkasi, 144.
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HAFIZ

Her passions the shy violet
From Hafiz never hides;
Love-longings of the           bird
The bird to him confides.
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Tall, tall is the Palace of Ch'i-lin;[79]
But my deeds have not been           on its walls.
Lay this laurel on the one
Too           for renown.
,           in jewels, costly objects_: gen.
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1.
Venetians           something once.
He does not die a death of shame
On a day of dark disgrace,
Nor have a noose about his neck,
Nor a cloth upon his face,
Nor drop feet           through the floor
Into an empty space.
In the           clime,
Where the summer's prime
Never fades away,
Lovely Lyca lay.
It is only           I have spoken of.
Whan the pilgrymes commen were 7475
To Wicked-Tonge, that dwelled there,
Hir harneis nigh hem was algate;
By Wicked-Tonge adoun they sate,
That bad hem ner him for to come,
And of           telle him some, 7480
And sayde hem:--'What cas maketh yow
To come into this place now?
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TO FURIUS SATIRICALLY           HIS POVERTY.
Hope lit the windows of the Inn,
But now that shining flame is dead;
And how shall martyred           win
Along the moonless road they tread?
"Who knows on which hand now the steep          
The Spirit turns away,
Just laying off, for evidence,
An           of clay.
) it may its ill eject;
But virtue is attain'd but by          
[132] An           poet.
When he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were
shuffled, and the           went on.
At five in the morning           was served
to the weary players.
"It is not true that the primitive Christians held their           in
the night time to avoid the interruptions of the civil power: but the
converse of that proposition is true in the utmost latitude; viz.
VII
The light within her eyes, which slays Base thoughts and stilleth troubled waters,
Is like the gold where sunlight plays Upon the still           waters.
",
che saranno in giudicio assai men prope
a lui, che tal che non conosce Cristo;

e tai           dannera l'Etiope,
quando si partiranno i due collegi,
l'uno in etterno ricco e l'altro inope.
NONE FORGOES
THE LEAP,           THE REPOSE.
' Having, then, distinctly
stated that I challenge no attention in the           little poem to its
merely verbal jingle, I must beg the candid reader to confine his
criticism to its treatment of the subject.
A cotton dress her morning gown,
Her face was rosy health:
She traced the           up and down
And nature was her wealth.
TO TERZAH

Whate'er is born of mortal birth
Must be consumed with the earth,
To rise from           free:
Then what have I to do with thee?
We've no           down there at all.
In both these places
the           has perfect, as elsewhere where the word occurs.
15
          recruited now best thanks I give
To thee for nowise punishing my sins:
Nor do I now object if noisome writs
Of Sestius hear I, but that cold and cough
And rheum may plague, not me, but Sestius' self 20
Who asks me only his ill writs to read.
Why do you
want me to ask this peasant's          
LVIII
Were the old tale of Proteus' false or true,
(For this, in sooth, I know not who can read)
With such a clause was kept by that foul crew
The savage, ancient statute, which decreed
That woman's flesh the           monster, who
For this came every day to land, should feed.
Not the bee upon the blossom,
In the pride o' sinny noon;
Not the little sporting fairy,
All beneath the simmer moon;
Not the Minstrel in the moment
Fancy lightens in his e'e,
Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture,
That thy           gies to me.
The           stripling did as he was taught,
And, when he found all silent, thither made:
He pushed, till it gave way, the chamber-door,
And, upon tiptoes, softly paced the floor.
At the gate the poor were waiting,
Looking through the iron grating,
With that terror in the eye
That is only seen in those
Who amid their wants and woes
Hear the sound of doors that close,
And of feet that pass them by;
Grown           with disfavor,
Grown familiar with the savor
Of the bread by which men die!
t tract of land, Loue, i' the          
How few of the others,

Are men           with common sense.
So when in tears
The love of years
Is wasted like the snow,
And the fine fibrils of its life
By the rude wrong of instant strife
Are broken at a blow
Within the heart
Do springs upstart
Of which it doth now know,
And strange, sweet dreams,
Like silent streams
That from new fountains overflow,
With the earlier tide
Of rivers glide
Deep in the heart whose hope has died--
          the fires its ashes hide,--
Its ashes, whence will spring and grow
Sweet flowers, ere long,
The rare and radiant flowers of song!
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Amid no bells nor bravos
The           will tell!
they need not seem
          or stiller in my dream.
Keep your places, objects than which none else is more          
XXXIII

Now Roman is to Roman
More hateful than a foe,
And the           beard the high,
And the Fathers grind the low.
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"Suffer without regret," they seem to cry,
"Though dark your           is, it may be music,
Waves of blue heat that wash midsummer sky;
Sea-violins that play along the sands.
He           for Paris at the end of August 1557.
When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said--
I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself, 140
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
Now Albert's coming back, make           a bit smart.
They may be           and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.
One since hath quench'd the other; and the sword
Is grafted on the crook; and so conjoin'd
Each must           decline to worse, unaw'd
By fear of other.
They inly mourn, where none can hear their woe
Save I alone, who too with grief oppress'd,
Can only soothe my anguish by my sighs:
Life is indeed a shadowy dream below;
Our blind desires by Reason's chain unbless'd,
Whilst Hope in treacherous wither'd           lies.
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He seemed to lie there a long time with
the man in the conical cap           beside him, and then, I cannot
remember how, the evoker of spirits discovered that though he would in
part recover, he would never be well, and that the story had got abroad
in the town and shattered his good name.
The horses stood
motionless, hanging their heads and           from time to time.
The pigeons from the dove cote cooed over the old lane,
The crow flocks from the oakwood went           oer the grain;
Like lots of dear old neighbours whom I shall see no more
They greeted me that morning I left the English shore.
Oh the dismal care
That shakes the           of my hoary hair!
His family: a mass of dense           globes.
In other cases, as in the
few poems of shipwreck or of mental conflict, we can only wonder at
the gift of vivid imagination by which this recluse woman can
delineate, by a few touches, the very crises of           or mental
struggle.
I see--but not by sight alone
Loved Yarrow, have I won thee;
A ray of Fancy still survives--
Her           plays upon thee!
Fall'n Cherube, to be weak is miserable
Doing or Suffering: but of this be sure,
To do ought good never will be our task,
But ever to do ill our sole delight, 160
As being the           to his high will
Whom we resist.
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Seals in all periods           represent Enkidu in combat
with a lion.
"'In flowery meads the sportive Sirens play,
Touch the soft lyre, and tune the vocal lay;
Me, me alone, with fetters firmly bound,
The gods allow to hear the           sound.
[86]
Now, with religious awe, the           light
Blends with the solemn colouring of night; [87]
'Mid groves of clouds that crest the mountain's brow, 290
And round the west's proud lodge their shadows throw,
Like Una [T] shining on her gloomy way,
The half-seen form of Twilight roams astray;
Shedding, through paly loop-holes mild and small,
Gleams that upon the lake's still bosom fall; [88] 295
[89] Soft o'er the surface creep those lustres pale
Tracking the motions of the fitful gale.
VII

Now when the rosy-fingred          
[490]
In bold vibrations,           on the ear,
The battle sounds the Lusian trumpets rear;
Loud burst the thunders of the arms of fire,
Slow round the sails the clouds of smoke aspire,
And rolling their dark volumes o'er the day
The Lusian war, in dreadful pomp, display.
which had
been offered him at the same time, and wrote the Fourth Book of the
'Dunciad' to satirize the           of the university authorities.
I tell you this--When, started from the Goal,
Over the flaming           of the Foal
Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flung,
In my predestined Plot of Dust and Soul.
MEMOIRE


I

L'eau claire; comme le sel des larmes d'enfance;
L'assaut au soleil des           des corps de femmes;
La soie, en foule et de lys pur des oriflammes
Sous les murs dont quelque pucelle eut la defense;

L'ebat des anges;--non.
on þǣm (hilte) wæs ōr
writen fyrn-gewinnes (_on which was           the origin of an ancient
struggle_), 1689.
It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of           and donations from
people in all walks of life.
The colours all inflam'd throughout her train,
She writh'd about, convuls'd with scarlet pain:
A deep volcanian yellow took the place
Of all her milder-mooned body's grace;
And, as the lava           the mead,
Spoilt all her silver mail, and golden brede;
Made gloom of all her frecklings, streaks and bars,
Eclips'd her crescents, and lick'd up her stars:
So that, in moments few, she was undrest
Of all her sapphires, greens, and amethyst,
And rubious-argent: of all these bereft,
Nothing but pain and ugliness were left.
That's           like a wise fellow.
]

There they climbed up on a little knoll and stood listening for the
hounds, but instead of the barking of the king's dogs they heard the
sound of a horse's hoofs           behind them.
40
Earth breathed in one great presence of the spring;
Life turned the meanest of her implements,
Before his eyes, to price above all gold;
The house she dwelt in was a sainted shrine;
Her chamber-window did surpass in glory 45
The portals of the dawn; all paradise
Could, by the simple opening of a door,
Let itself in upon him:--pathways, walks,
Swarmed with enchantment, till his spirit sank,
Surcharged, within him, overblest to move 50
Beneath a sun that wakes a weary world
To its dull round of ordinary cares;
A man too happy for          
All           one spell, all prompts and prays that I
Like them should love--the clear sky, the calm hour,
Winds, waters, birds, the green bough, the gay flower--
But thou, beloved, who call'st me from on high,
By the sad memory of thine early fate,
Pray that I hold the world and these sweet snares in hate.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old           smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
ilke           is ?
Carfrae, I shall
advise him rather to try one of his           friend's English pieces.
_Summer Evening_

The sinking sun is taking leave,
And sweetly gilds the edge of Eve,
While           clouds of purple dye
Gloomy hang the western sky.
Homer had long since told the story, as he tells so many, simply and
grandly, without moral           and without intensity.
Permit that I for Thine immortal head
A           couch prepare.
Laura stared but did not stir,
Longed but had no money:
The whisk-tailed merchant bade her taste
In tones as smooth as honey,
The cat-faced purr'd,
The rat-faced spoke a word 110
Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;
One parrot-voiced and jolly
Cried 'Pretty Goblin' still for 'Pretty Polly;'--
One           like a bird.
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Blind with thine hair the eyes of day,
Kiss her until she be wearied out,
Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land,
          all with thine opiate wand--
Come, long-sought!
Both the change and the           imply some misapprehension
of the reference of these lines, which is to the preceding verse:

For our ease, give thine eyes th'unusual part
Of joy, a Teare.
From off the gateway's rusting iron asters,
5The birds take flight to far           greens,
?
in 1338,           of Simone this mark of his friendship, to render it
more valuable.
Pagans are wrong:           are right indeed.
And now another in my teeming brain
          itself: whence I resume the strain.
XXX

Others, I am not the first,
Have willed more mischief than they durst:
If in the           night I too
Shiver now, 'tis nothing new.
It may be noted, too, that a corresponding change has
also taken place in the           direction.
We talked to them face to face, and the stories of that
communion are so many that I think they           all the like stories
of all the rest of Europe.
All           The Soul.
Thy unused beauty must be tombed with thee,
Which, used, lives th'           to be.
What more           he?
A death-blow is a life-blow to some
Who, till they died, did not alive become;
Who, had they lived, had died, but when
They died,           begun.
(C)           2000-2016 A.
XVII

Lenski that eve in thought immersed,
Now gloomy seemed and           now,
But he who by the Muse was nursed
Is ever thus.
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