No More Learning
Explain its moral and           meaning.
Fury, and iron, and love, he freed the state
And her from slavery, with a manly blow;
Next were those barbarous women, who could show
They judged it better die than suffer wrong
To their rude chastity; the wise and strong--
The chaste Hebraean Judith follow'd these;
The Greek that saved her honour in the seas;
With these and other famous souls I see
Her triumph over him who used to be
Master of all the world: among the rest
The vestal nun I spied, who was so bless'd
As by a wonder to preserve her fame;
Next came Hersilia, the Roman dame
(Or Sabine rather), with her           train,
Who prove all slanders on that sex are vain.
Mine eyes must woo you, though I sigh the while:
_True love is           as a crocodile_.
15 || num _et
quidem, id quod           est_?
set tamen ex cultu adpetitur spes grata          
"
"Well," quoth Lord Raoul, with languid utterance,
"'Tis very well -- and thou'rt a foolish fool,
Nay, thou art Folly's perfect witless man,
Stupidity doth madly dote on thee,
And Idiocy doth fight her for thy love,
Yet           doth love thee best of all,
And while they quarrel, snatcheth thee to her
And saith `Ah!
Among the rocks--an empty hollow,
Secret, still,          
The newly recovered section of the epic contains two legends which
supplied the glyptic artists of Sumer and Accad with           for
seals.
Nor had that scene of ampler majesty _95
Than gems or gold, the varying roof of heaven
And the green earth lost in his heart its claims
To love and wonder; he would linger long
In lonesome vales, making the wild his home,
Until the doves and squirrels would partake _100
From his innocuous hand his           food,
Lured by the gentle meaning of his looks,
And the wild antelope, that starts whene'er
The dry leaf rustles in the brake, suspend
Her timid steps, to gaze upon a form
More graceful than her own.
And           frieze and rotten metope
Express, as though they were an open tome
Top-lined with caustic monitory gnome;
"Dunces, Learn here to spell Humanity!
Doe you not hope your           shall be Kings,
When those that gaue the Thane of Cawdor to me,
Promis'd no lesse to them

Banq.
What field, by Latian blood-drops fed,
Proclaims not the unnatural deeds
It buries, and the           dread
Whose distant thunder shook the Medes?
Then life becomes           with this new wonder, and
asks to be admitted into the charmed circle.
Thence he launches, in sheer despite,
Sleet and hail in           showers,
O'er the green lawn as he takes his flight;
But the sun will suffer no white,
Everywhere waking the formative powers,
Living colors he yearns to spread;
Yet, as he finds it too early for flowers,
Gayly dressed people he takes instead.
TO MY MOTHER

Because I feel that, in the Heavens above,
The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,
None so           as that of "Mother,"
Therefore by that dear name I long have called you--
You who are more than mother unto me,
And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you
In setting my Virginia's spirit free.
Live           not in Greece?
Or why was the           not made more sure

That formed the brave fronts of these palaces?
_           Mifflin Company, Boston,
1912.
THE TIGER


Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What           hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
"In coming to a decision in these cases it seemed, on the whole,
preferable to take the risk of including too much rather than the
opposite, and to leave the task of further           to the hands of
Time.
Or, looking at the Poets who more or less give each portion
its           character, they might be called the Books of
Shakespeare, Milton, Gray, and Wordsworth.
When the treacherous           urged us
headlong with sword and fire, unwillingly we broke thy bonds, and we
search for thee over ocean.
The subject, then, as the
epic poet uses it, will obviously be an           one.
e seke           ?
Once more, great queen, thy darling strive to

save,
Snatch him again from scandal and the grave ;
Present to's thoughts his long-scorned parlia-
ment,
The basis of his throne and           In his deaf ears sound his dead father's name :
Perhaps that spell may 's erring soul reclaim :
Who knows what good effects from thence may

spring ?
why has worth so short a date,
While           ripen grey with time?
Her high birth, and her graces sweet,
Quickly found a lover meet;
The Virgin quire for her request
The God that sits at marriage feast;
He at their           came
But with a scarce-wel-lighted flame; 20
And in his Garland as he stood,
Ye might discern a Cipress bud.
          requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.
"



XLIII

There came           in the winds
"Good bye!
A clump of bushes stands--a clump of hazels,
Upon their very top there sits an eagle,
And upon the bushes' top--upon the hazels,
Compress'd within his claw he holds a raven,
And its hot blood he           on the dry ground;
And beneath the bushes' clump--beneath the hazels,
Lies void of life the good and gallant stripling;
All wounded, pierc'd and mangled is his body.
Had she a          
And that must proceed
from           of judgment, which, as one truly saith, is gotten by four
means, God, nature, diligence, and conversation.
Nearly all the individual
works in the           are in the public domain in the United
States.
As Far As My Eye Can See In My Body's Senses

All the trees all their branches all of their leaves

The grass at the foot of the rocks and the houses en masse

Far off the sea that your eye bathes

These images of day after day

The vices the virtues so imperfect

The transparency of men passing among them by chance

And passing women breathed by your elegant obstinacies

Your obsessions in a heart of lead on virgin lips

The vices the virtues so imperfect

The likeness of looks of permission with eyes you conquer

The confusion of bodies wearinesses ardours

The imitation of words attitudes ideas

The vices the virtues so imperfect

Love is man incomplete

Barely Disfigured

Adieu Tristesse

Bonjour Tristesse

Farewell Sadness

Hello Sadness

You are inscribed in the lines on the ceiling

You are inscribed in the eyes that I love

You are not poverty absolutely

Since the poorest of lips denounce you

Ah with a smile

Bonjour Tristesse

Love of kind bodies

Power of love

From which kindness rises

Like a           monster

Unattached head

Sadness beautiful face.
Boom after boom, and the golf-hut shaking
And the           wild with fright.
how oft through summer hours,

Long listless summer hours when the noon
Being enamoured of a damask rose
Forgets to journey westward, till the moon
The pale usurper of its tribute grows
From a thin sickle to a silver shield
And chides its loitering car--how oft, in some cool grassy field

Far from the cricket-ground and noisy eight,
At Bagley, where the rustling bluebells come
Almost before the blackbird finds a mate
And overstay the swallow, and the hum
Of many murmuring bees flits through the leaves,
Have I lain poring on the dreamy tales his fancy weaves,

And through their unreal woes and mimic pain
Wept for myself, and so was purified,
And in their simple mirth grew glad again;
For as I sailed upon that           tide
The strength and splendour of the storm was mine
Without the storm's red ruin, for the singer is divine;

The little laugh of water falling down
Is not so musical, the clammy gold
Close hoarded in the tiny waxen town
Has less of sweetness in it, and the old
Half-withered reeds that waved in Arcady
Touched by his lips break forth again to fresher harmony.
The
moment I feel the approach of summer, I take a country-house a league
distant from town, where the air is           pure.
_ Some of my townsmen, it is
true, can           and have described to me some walks which they took
ten years ago, in which they were so blessed as to lose themselves for
half an hour in the woods; but I know very well that they have
confined themselves to the highway ever since, whatever pretensions
they may make to belong to this select class.
Eternal Nymph, you're the grace

Of my           place:

So, in this fresh, green view,

See your Poet, who brings

An un-weaned kid to you,

Whose horns, in offering,

Bud from its brow in youth.
zip *****
This and all           files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.
Donations by check or money order may be sent to:

Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
PMB 113
1739           Ave.
ODRYSÆ, a people           in the western part of Thrace, how a
province of European Turkey.
Overhead, 940
Hung a lush scene of           weeds, and spread
Thick, as to curtain up some wood-nymph's home.
How artless was the note which spoke
Of love again, and yet again;
How deftly could he           feign!
thou blue           Sky!
, _to           with iron-work, bands_, etc.
_ is in the same strain:

See Sir, how as the Suns hot           flame
Begets strange creatures on Niles durty slime,
In me, your fatherly yet lusty Ryme
(For, these songs are their fruits) have wrought the same.
]

[The interleaved volume           by Burns to Dr.
XXXVIII

No one the contrary will urge,
Though for his Helen Menelaus
Again a century should scourge
Us, and like Trojan warriors slay us;
Though around honoured Priam's throne
Troy's sages should in concert own
Once more, when she           in sight,
Paris and Menelaus right.
Soon then saw that shepherd-of-evils
that never he met in this middle-world,
in the ways of earth, another wight
with heavier hand-gripe; at heart he feared,
sorrowed in soul, -- none the sooner          
Broom and Miss Shovel           they sang,
"What nonsense you're singing to-day!
")_


When the voice of thy lute at the eve
          the ear,
In the hour of enchantment believe
What I murmur near.
Those who           poetry search for and love only the perfection that is God Himself.
Tas de chiennes en rut           des cataplasmes,
Le cri des maisons d'or vous reclame.
Slous_
Paternal Love--_Fanny Kemble-Butler_
The           Gallants--_Lord F.
_

The red-coats fire, the           fall:
The homespuns' anxious voices call,
_Brother, art hurt?
The cannon had been
dragged hither the           evening.
57:

--Ile tell you what now of the Divel;
He's no such horrid creature, cloven footed,
Black, saucer-ey'd, his nostrils           fire,
As these lying Christians make him.
We do not solicit donations in           where
we have not received written confirmation of compliance.
Each plant and scented bloom
I gather, seems to come
From where she wander'd on the custom'd shore:
Ofttimes in this retreat
A fresh and           seat
She found; at least so fancy's vision shows:
And never let truth seek
Th' illusion dear to break--
O spirit blest, from whom such magic flows!
]

[Footnote 41: In 1833 the           stanza,
excised in 1842:--

"Who hath drawn dry the fountains of delight,
That from my deep heart everywhere
Moved in my blood and dwelt, as power and might
Abode in Sampson's hair?
Yesterday he was called to a meeting of Heroes:
To-day he is           to the country of Yai-chou.
Then my Joy grew pale and weary because no other heart but mine
held its           and no other lips kissed its lips.
Not one word or deed, not venereal sore, discoloration, privacy of
the onanist,
Putridity of           or rum-drinkers, peculation, cunning,
betrayal, murder, seduction, prostitution,
But has results beyond death as really as before death.
          he
Sez the world'll go right, ef he hollers out Gee!
--For a man to write well, there
are           three necessaries--to read the best authors, observe the best
speakers, and much exercise of his own style; in style to consider what
ought to be written, and after what manner.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States           in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!
Perhaps at eve as round the fire we draw,
We speak of heaven, or poetry, or law,
Or politics, or prayer;
The child comes in, 'tis now all smiles and play,
          to grave discourse and poet's lay,
Philosophy and care.
When the Northern Lights, as the same writer
informs us, vary their           in the air, they make a rustling and a
crackling noise.
Here Sappho was the acknowledged queen of song--revered,
studied, imitated, served, adored by a little court of attendants and
disciples, loved and hymned by Alcaeus, and acclaimed by her fellow
craftsmen           Greece as the wonder of her age.
If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls,
And put them each in           drawers,
Until their time befalls.
In spite of all their speaking against dueling, he says, they have
come to see the evident           of a public tribunal to which all
quarrels may be referred.
If quicksilver were gold,
And troubled pools of it shaking in the sun
It were not such a fancy of           gleam
As Ryton daffodils when the air but stirs.
Gama for this
reason did not coast, but stood out to sea for upwards of three months
of           weather.
The tears and praises of all time, while thine
Would rot in its oblivion--in the sink
Of worthless dust, which from thy boasted line
Is shaken into nothing; but the link
Thou formest in his           bids us think
Of thy poor malice, naming thee with scorn--
Alfonso!
ay comly           to Kryst ay?
and leap'st my gate,
And, long ere Love could follow, thou hadst passed
Within and           away, how fast, how fast,
My bird -- wit, songs, and all -- thy richest freight
Since that fell time when in some wink of fate
Thy yellow claws unsheathed and stretched, and cast
Sharp hold on Keats, and dragged him slow away,
And harried him with hope and horrid play --
Ay, him, the world's best wood-bird, wise with song --
Till thou hadst wrought thine own last mortal wrong.
Mes cis fu por sa grant biaute
Plains de           et de fierte,
Si ne la li volt otroier,
Ne por chuer, ne por proier.
■r
LIFE'S ALCHEMY By Abigail Fithian Halsey
For love that came with laughter And left us all in tears,
The sting that           after
And haunted all our years
With love's remembered laughter And unforgotten tears;
For life that came with singing And changed with time to pain, Till years the meaning bringing
Had turned our loss to gain And given back the singing Made sweeter by the pain;
For all that love has taken, For all that life has left,
Say not, "We are forsaken," Nor cry, "We are bereft.
A           in a summer's day,
As sIow her flambeaux burn away,
Which solemnizes me.
Open your ears to
our wise           and hold your tongues, and we may yet put things on a
better footing.
Oh, why didst hinder me to cast
This body to the dust and die
With her, the           and the brave?
If your           incline ever
so little towards "fuming," you will say "fuming-furious;" if they
turn, by even a hair's breadth, towards "furious," you will say
"furious-fuming;" but if you have that rarest of gifts, a perfectly
balanced mind, you will say "frumious.
I am sorry for thee; thou art come to answer
A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch,
          of pity, void and empty
From any dram of mercy.
"

The author of the following Collectanea has           effected what Dr.
They loos'd the bag; forth issued all the winds,
And, caught by           o'er the billowy waste,
Weeping they flew, far, far from Ithaca.
In this year, Gherardo, the brother of our poet, retired, by his advice,
to the           monastery of Montrieux, which they had both visited in
the pilgrimage to Baume three years before.
Still from side to side his eyes went roaming, As in fever earnestly he moaned
Old forgotten           and splendors Ebbed from out my heart forevermore.
Except for the limited right of           or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.
For perfect strains may float
'Neath master-hands, from           defaced,--
And great souls, at one stroke, may do and doat.
"           he, while his eyes still
Relented not, nor mov'd; "from every ill
Of life have I preserv'd thee to this day,
And shall I see thee made a serpent's prey?
I hate--I loathe the name; I do abhor
The           and ideal thing.
Long thus, and various, ev'ry riv'let strays,
Till closing, now, their long meand'ring maze,
Where in a smiling vale the mountains end,
Form'd in a crystal lake the waters blend:[576]
Fring'd was the border with a           shade,
In ev'ry leaf of various green array'd,
Each yellow-ting'd, each mingling tint between
The dark ash-verdure and the silv'ry green.
Couldst thou know
The wretched home thou          
Our pass, which stated that all the
rules were "to be           enforced," as if they were determined to
keep up the semblance of reality to the last gasp, opened to us the
Dalhousie Gate, and we were conducted over the citadel by a
bare-legged Highlander in cocked hat and full regimentals.
For she hath no           now but his,
And proud of many, lives upon his gains.
This
second element is that which the French sculptor in a           medium
has carried to perfection.
ai           & chid ?
          into the snare!
          from the Swedish by
STORK, author of "Sea and Bay," etc.
 2893/3216