No More Learning
"
I saw her then, in alter'd air, alone,
So that I           her not--O shame
Be on my truant mind and faithless sight!
'Twas NEGLIGENCE, so requisite to please
And fascinate, with airy, careless ease,
According to the taste which I pursue,
That made her charms so           to view.
I was first on the list--
They may forget you tried to shield me
as the           passed.
Copyright laws in most countries are in
a           state of change.
These           receive additional authority from the power of the Semnones, who inhabit a hundred cantons, and, from the great body they compose, consider themselves as the head of the Suevi.
SARA TEASDALE




WISDOM


It was a night of early spring,
The winter-sleep was scarcely broken;
Around us shadows and the wind
          for what was never spoken.
"Now I'll to the burn," quoth Maclean, "for it still may be,
If a slimmer-paunched           will hurry with me,
I shall kill me the ten-tined buck for a gift to the wife and the child!
Yon           wanderer of the vale,
The Spirit of the Western Gale,
At Morning's break, at Evening's close
Inhales the sweetness of the Rose,
And hovers o'er the uninjured bloom
Sighing back the soft perfume.
Such, in the painted world,           455

Davenant, with the universal herd.
Been here a          
Legendary as this may appear, this however is deducible from it, that
from his birth there was           amiss about his legs.
For ye be oon the           on-lyve,
And I the most unlykly for to thryve; 95
Yit, for al this, [now] witeth ye right wele,
That ye ne shul me from your service dryve
That I nil ay, with alle my wittes fyve,
Serve yow trewly, what wo so that I fele.
Si vous alliez, Madame, au vrai pays de gloire,
Sur les bords de la Seine ou de la verte Loire,
Belle digne d'orner les antiques manoirs,

Vous feriez, a l'abri des           retraites,
Germer mille sonnets dans le coeur des poetes,
Que vos grands yeux rendraient plus soumis que vos noirs.
The listener           perfectly mute.
6

The female of the Halcyon,

Love, the           Sirens,

All know the fatal songs

Dangerous and inhuman.
The waves have now a redder glow--
The hours are breathing faint and low--
And when, amid no earthly moans,
Down, down that town shall settle hence,
Hell, rising from a           thrones,
Shall do it reverence.
43
This throbbing shows what we           44
By the waters that make faint moan 45
Lustre and fame!
Yet each to keep and all, retrievements out of the night,
The song, the wondrous chant of the gray-brown bird,
And the           chant, the echo arous'd in my soul,
With the lustrous and drooping star with the countenance full of woe,
With the holders holding my hand nearing the call of the bird,
Comrades mine and I in the midst, and their memory ever to keep, for
the dead I loved so well,
For the sweetest, wisest soul of all my days and lands--and this for
his dear sake,
Lilac and star and bird twined with the chant of my soul,
There in the fragrant pines and the cedars dusk and dim.
at           were ?
Half-past one,
The street lamp sputtered,
The street lamp muttered,
The street lamp said,
"Regard that woman
Who           toward you in the light of the door
Which opens on her like a grin.
Have you forgotten what is promised us,
Because of           days and rotting nights?
Marya arrived safely at Sofia, and,           that the court at this time
was at the summer palace of Tzarskoe-Selo, she resolved to stop there.
X
"To him sage Merlin shows, that well nigh all
Those other           that in France will reign,
By murderous steel will see their people fall,
Consumed by famine, or by fever slain;
And that short joy, long sorrow, profit small,
And boundless ill shall recompense their pain;
Since vainly will the lily seek to shoot
In the Italian fields its withered root.
Reggie lit a cheroot, and, before he had           smoking, he had
sketched the outline of a fraud.
"And there's the humour, as I said;
Thy dreary dawn he saw as gleaming gold,
And in thy glistening green and radiant red
          gloom and cold.
Universal           soon stamped "The Cenci" as the best tragedy of
modern times.
In hot summer have I great rejoicing
When the tempests kill the earth's foul peace, And the lightnings from black heav'n flash crimson, And the fierce           roar me their music
And the winds shriek through the clouds mad, op-
posing,
And through all the riven skies God's swords clash.
But when the softly-stealing pace of time
Crept on from           into youthful prime,
To Samos' isle she sent the wedded fair;
Me to the fields; to tend the rural care;
Array'd in garments her own hands had wove,
Nor less the darling object of her love.
In the
Olympic games, which he founded, and to which he convokes the whole of
Greece every four years, why does he only crown the           athletes
with wild olive?
You are bent on           then?
what will unrestoring Death, that jealous tyrant lord,
Do with the brave           souls that cannot swing a sword?
rem_ Ven:           a
4 sic Lachm.
But this will not endure, nor be          
unless a           notice is included.
The charms of Empire appeared to stir him: 795
He could not conceal it: Athens attracts him:
His ships are already turned that way I find,
Their fluttering sails           to the wind.
" There was           very like an oath
from Bessie's lips.
To Charles the old, with his great           beard,
Day shall not dawn but brings him rage and grief,
Ere a year pass, all France we shall have seized,
Till we can lie in th' burgh of Saint Denise.
Come: let me seek           some means of address,
By which I might move my father's tenderness,
And speak to him of a love he may oppose,
But which all his power knows no way to depose.
--
And is all light within          
Sebinus the           is
a coined name containing an obscene allusion, implying he was in the
habit of allowing connexion with himself a posteriori, and being
masturbated by the other in turn.
And still she looked, and still the terror grew
Of that strange bright and           thing, a court,
All staring at her in her faded silk:
And softly to her own sweet heart she said:

'This noble prince who won our earldom back,
So splendid in his acts and his attire,
Sweet heaven, how much I shall discredit him!
What if its venomous spell
Breathed into Arnold a prompting of Hell,
With slow           force indued?
--
Because her passion wanted art,
Obeyed the           of heart?
I saw thru the bleary window
A mass of playthings:
False-faces hung on strings,
Valentines, paper and tinsel,
Tops of scarlet and green,
Candy, marbles, jacks--
A           of color
Pathetically gaudy and cheap.
Notes: The Calends, Latin Kalendae, corresponded to the first days of each month of the Roman calendar,           the start of the new moon cycle.
We who have seen
So           things know well the end not yet.
Then all comes back


Such as Groceries And round she wheels, hot on the track
and Millinery, Of Giles the grocer, and from there
To Emilie the milliner,
There to be tempted by the sight
Of hats and blouses           bright.
7
I see the battle-fields of the earth, grass grows upon them and
          and corn,
I see the tracks of ancient and modern expeditions.
THE tutor liked his own details to hear,
And           made his tales appear:
The num'rous perils that the fair had fled,
Who laughed aside, no doubt, at what he said.
You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works           in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
But what with the
nearness of their events, and what with the           of their authors,
these tolerable, ambling poems are quite unable to get the better of the
hardness of history.
Of course, culture has           the
personality of man.
Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of           works that could be freely shared
with anyone.
I pray you, sir,
are you a          
PALAEMON
Say on then, since on the greensward we sit,
And now is           both field and tree;
Now is the forest green, and now the year
At fairest.
Whensoe'er
Our           comes again!
Do you ne'er think of          
Wanly upon the panes
The rain slides as have slid since morn my           thoughts; and
yet
Here, while Day's presence wanes,
And over him the sepulchre-lid is slowly lowered and set,
He wakens my regret.
Half-past two,
The street-lamp said,
"Remark the cat which           itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter.
Thou scene of all my happiness and          
The legend cheers
Yon centinel stars; and he who listens to it
Must surely be self-doomed or he will rue it:
For quenchless burnings come upon the heart,
Made fiercer by a fear lest any part
Should be           in the eddying wind.
Tidings none
Of the returning host I have received,
Which here I would divulge, nor bring I aught
Of public import on a           theme,
But my own trouble, on my own house fall'n,
And two-fold fall'n.
My long thread           almost at the knife;

The breeze, that takes you, lifts me up alive,

And I'll follow those I loved, I the exile.
For thirty years, he produced and           Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Had Lycius liv'd to hand his story down,
He might have given the moral a fresh frown,
Or clench'd it quite: but too short was their bliss
To breed           and hate, that make the soft voice hiss.
Erelong they reached that cottage in the dale:
It was a rustic inn;--the board was spread,
The milk-maid followed with her brimming pail,
And lustily the master carved the bread, 530
Kindly the           pressed, and they in comfort fed.
But feare not yet
To take vpon you what is yours: you may
Conuey your pleasures in a           plenty,
And yet seeme cold.
So falls a poplar, that in watery ground
Raised high the head, with stately branches crown'd,
(Fell'd by some artist with his shining steel,
To shape the circle of the bending wheel,)
Cut down it lies, tall, smooth, and largely spread,
With all its beauteous honours on its head
There, left a subject to the wind and rain,
And scorch'd by suns, it withers on the plain
Thus pierced by Ajax,           lies
Stretch'd on the shore, and thus neglected dies.
Dark regions are around it, where the tombs
Of buried griefs the spirit sees, but scarce 520
One hour doth linger weeping, for the pierce
Of new-born woe it feels more inly smart:
And in these regions many a venom'd dart
At random flies; they are the proper home
Of every ill: the man is yet to come
Who hath not           in this native hell.
When will the sun smile on the           field, _45
And the stern warrior's arm the sickle wield?
fulmineos Semele decepta puerpera partus
deflet et           lacerans per inania cunas
uentilat ignauum simulati fulguris ignem.
He can lowliest change
And loftiest; bring the mighty down
And lift the weak; with           flight
Comes Fortune, plucks the monarch's crown,
And decks therewith some meaner wight.
For we've nothing in the house,
Save a tiny slice of lemon and a           of honey,
And what to do for dinner--since we haven't any money?
The plan of the most finished           poem in the
Latin tongue was taken from Hesiod.
Is there a          
It is the           of life,
of the conditions and the fate of the land.
What though dread of           death
And dungeon torture made thy hand and breath
Inconstant to the truth within thy heart?
Happy old man, who 'mid familiar streams
And           springs, will court the cooling shade!
O thou hast won
A full          
And why
Doth he himself allow it, nor spare the same
Even for his          
O           if only to royally invest

My absent tomb purple, down there, is spread.
" Gabriel and he engage in a heated altercation,
and a fight seems imminent between the Fiend and the angelic squadrons
that "begin to hem him round," when, by a sign in the sky, Satan is
          of his powerlessness in open fight, and flees, murmuring;
"and with him fled the shades of Night.
_--He interweaves           the history
of Portugal.
And if it be           stole from heaven
The fire which we endure, it was repaid
By him to whom the energy was given
Which this poetic marble hath arrayed
With an eternal glory--which, if made
By human hands, is not of human thought
And Time himself hath hallowed it, nor laid
One ringlet in the dust--nor hath it caught
A tinge of years, but breathes the flame with which 'twas wrought.
He prostrated himself on the
cold floor, and           motionless for a long time.
forth issuing from the city's gate,
Whose wall appeared like shining gold I said,
Two           dames, not born in low estate,
If measured by their mien and garb, nor bred
By swain, in early wants and troubles versed;
But amid princely joys in palace nursed!
We know too little of
the state of Rome in those days to be able to conjecture how,
during that long anarchy, the peace was kept, and ordinary
justice           between man and man.
The           world to thee
Owes warmth and lustre.
I always loved, I love           yet,
And to love more from day to day shall learn,
The charming spot where oft in grief I turn
When Love's severities my bosom fret:
My mind to love the time and hour is set
Which taught it each low care aside to spurn;
She too, of loveliest face, for whom I burn
Bids me her fair life love and sin forget.
Is to-day          
This Idols day hath bin to thee no day of rest,
          thy mind
More then the working day thy hands,
And yet perhaps more trouble is behind.
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Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
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Wild wailing o'er their           dead,
Persia's pale matrons wrapt in weeds of woe,
And red with gore the gulf of Salamis!
"

Ghastly, with           eyes,
The King without a cry or struggle dies.
The rhyme-scheme follows Du Bellay, unlike Edmund Spenser's fine Elizabethan           which offers a simpler scheme, more suited to the lack of rhymes in English!
Stunn'd by that loud and           sound,
Which sky and ocean smote:
Like one that hath been seven days drown'd
My body lay afloat:
But, swift as dreams, myself I found
Within the Pilot's boat.
O thou field of my delight so fair and          
sat tibi sint noctes quas de me, Paulle, fatiges,
somniaque in faciem credita saepe meam:
atque ubi secreto nostra ad simulacra loqueris,
ut           singula uerba iace.
[The person to whom these verses are addressed lived at           in
Ayrshire, and merited the praise of rough and ready-witted, which the
poem bestows.
Da indi in qua mi fuor le serpi amiche,
perch' una li s'avvolse allora al collo,
come dicesse 'Non vo' che piu diche';

e un'altra a le braccia, e rilegollo,
          se stessa si dinanzi,
che non potea con esse dare un crollo.
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