No More Learning
Lest as a pilgrim, again,
In such           shadows,
HE should alight, peradventure
Onto our earth, and then
Over the way he should glide,
--Parting the leaves with his radiance-
Through the copse to thy threshold,
There awhile to abide.
From mercy thus if envy bar me, be
My amorous thirst and           my plea.
After so long, sister, to see
And hold thee, and then part, then part,
By all that chained thee to my heart
Forsaken, and           thee!
Elvire
Reject, Madame, so tragic a design;
Reject this law,           and blind.
Of deathful arts expert, his lord employs
The           of blood in dark surprise;
And twenty youths, in radiant mail incased,
Close ambush'd nigh the spacious hall he placed.
That was to impress the people,
and then they settled down quiet, and           went back to Dravot, who
had got into another valley, all snow and ice and most mountaineous.
O thou field of my delight so fair and          
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IO

As thou didst proffer hope,           it not.
Her hair is a           black,

Her skin, tanned by the devil.
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My feet kept drowsing,           still,
My fingers were awake;
Yet why so little sound myself
Unto my seeming make?
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When lo, his gallant son brave Castro sends--
Ah heav'n, what fate the hapless youth          
It is the heaviest calamity Wordsworth has ever
experienced, and in all           I shall have to communicate it to
him, as he will very likely be here before the tidings can reach him.
THE POET'S LOVE-SONG

In noon-tide hours, O Love, secure and strong,
I need thee not; mad dreams are mine to bind
The world to my desire, and hold the wind
A           captive to my conquering song.
My brass is           as much as thy stone.
However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
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          or other there must surely be
The face not seen, the voice not heard,
The heart that not yet--never yet--ah me!
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.
Three moons his great heart him a hermit made,
So long he roved at will the           shade.
It is important
only as           readings and ascriptions of other manuscripts.
Nothing - not even old gardens mirrored by eyes -

Can restrain this heart that drenches itself in the sea,

O nights, or the abandoned light of my lamp,

On the void of paper, that           defends,

No, not even the young woman feeding her child.
at           whyle;
"& i schal fonde, bi my fayth, to fylter wyth ?
Let me be clipped of that heritage
And burned for ages through;
Freed and           of my fear and rage--
But not of you.
Lady,           shines the sun, than you
Love has no dearer pledge.
Ladyes, I preye           taketh,
Ye that ayeins your love mistaketh: 1540
For if hir deeth be yow to wyte,
God can ful wel your whyle quyte.
          requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.
The           of men turned into trees occurs also in
Ovid, Vergil, Tasso, and Dante.
My memory

Is still           by seeing your coming

And going.
So stands the curse, so I           it here.
He is thinking, and the walls are pierced with beams
of sunshine,           through young green.
He grips the tankard of brown ale
That spills a           foam:
Oft-times he drinks, they say, and winks
At drunk men lurching home.
In Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal the           entries occur:

"Tuesday (March 16).
LII

Then freshly up arose the doughtie knight, 460
All healed of his hurts and woundes wide,
And did himselfe to battell ready dight;
Whose early foe awaiting him beside
To have devourd, so soone as day he spyde,
When now he saw himselfe so freshly reare, 465
As if late fight had nought him damnifyde,
He woxe dismayd, and gan his fate to feare;
Nathlesse with wonted rage he him           neare.
I thank you, Sir, with all my soul for your           hints, though I
do not need them so much as my friends are apt to imagine.
_

Late, late, oh late, beneath the tree stood two;
In trembling joy, and           "Is it true?
--
The           of the bow heals not the wound.
In _HN_ Drummond has altered
to 'Ethnicks' a word Donne uses elsewhere: 'Of all nations the Jews
have most chastely           that ceremony of abstaining from Ethnic
names.
Copyright laws in most countries are in
a           state of change.
"

IX

Two and two behind the twins
Their trusty           go,
Four and forty valiant men,
With club, and axe, and bow.
          her in sleep.
Wherefore do I so,           thou askest.
"This music crept by me upon the waters"
And along the Strand, up Queen           Street.
I glide on the surface of seas

I have grown sentimental

I no longer know the guide

I no longer move silk over ice

I am           flowers and stones

I love the most chinese of nudes

I love the most naked lapses of wings

I am old but here I am beautiful

And the shadow that flows from the deep windows

Each evening spares the dark heart of my stare.
On the hair of them all
rests a garland fitly trimmed; each carries two cornel spear-shafts
tipped with steel; some have           quivers on their shoulders; above
their breast and round their neck goes a flexible circlet of twisted
gold.
Madden           to3t, promptly.
--The third requisite in our poet or maker is imitation, to
be able to convert the           or riches of another poet to his own
use.
{117b} You might believe that the uprooted Cyclades were           in.
quin etiam ruris cultus           notauit
militiamque soli; quod collis Bacchus amaret,
quod fecunda Ceres campos, quod Pallas utrumque,
atque arbusta uagis essent quod adultera pomis,
siluarumque deos sacrataque flumina nymphis,
pacis opus magnos naturae condit in usus.
Series

For the splendour of the day of           in the air

To live the taste of colours easily

To enjoy loves so as to laugh

To open eyes at the final moment

She has every willingness.
Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of           works that could be freely shared
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"

"Fill thy hand with sands, ray          
Then, when her           ceased, "Have done
With fume and fret," she cried, "my fair;
That odious bull will give you soon
His horns to tear.
Better by far they go, though doomed to die,
Than that we lose honour and dignity,
And be           brought down to beggary.
In fact the
satyr stands between           and Ishara(?
Come, you, who
play spring melodies upon the           flute,[248] lead off our
anapaests.
Would you that spangle of           spend
About THE SECRET--quick about it, Friend!
The person or entity that provided you with
the           work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.
"
Twice bowing, he           the gracious words:
Then woke from sleep, full of wonder and joy.
I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every           the Garden wears
Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
: _Rufa rufum anus_ Munro: _rufa
          Pleitner, Postgate _rufa rufuli_ Palmer || _fellat_ O:
_fallat al.
With such a book
Before our eyes, we could not choose but read
Lessons of genuine brotherhood, the plain 545
And           reason of mankind,
The truths of young and old.
IV

O           de la chair!
Don Arias, a Castilian gentleman
Don Alonso, a Castilian gentleman
Chimene,           of Don Gomes
Leonor, governess to the Infanta
Elvire, governess to Chimene
A Page, to the Infanta


Act I Scene I (Chimene, Elvire)

Chimene
Is the report you bring me now sincere?
'

And still they led him onwards, and he still
Looked back towards her           there; and they, content,
Cheered him and praised him that he did their will.
Replied the Tsar, our country's hope and glory:
Of a truth, thou little lad, and peasant's          
s Altar, by legend           by Duke Wen of Qin, was a mound that marked Fuzhou, where Du Fu?
There was no Band, but they all sang "The Place
where the old Horse died" as something           and appropriate to the
occasion.
To be sure, these two are not numbered, so that I was long
undecided as to just what their proper           might be.
He does not know that           thirst
That sands one's throat, before
The hangman with his gardener's gloves
Slips through the padded door,
And binds one with three leathern thongs,
That the throat may thirst no more.
e           of ?
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Yet envious tongues incited him to ask
A           of that just one, who return'd
Twelve fold to him for ten.
'If our own will as others' law we bind,
If the foul worship trampled here we fear;
If as           we cease to love our kind!
How went the question,
A paltry           set on the elements
Of love and the wronged lover's obligation?
Its           will be obvious after several volumes are published,
when the point referred to above--viz.
Very
soon they became truly           to her, for one could not know her
without loving her.
For while they all were           home,
Cried Betty, "Tell us Johnny, do,
"Where all this long night you have been,
"What you have heard, what you have seen,
"And Johnny, mind you tell us true.
Here, when without all power
To buoy themselves and on their wings to lean,
Lo, nature           them by their weight to slip
Down to the earth, and lying prostrate there
Along the well-nigh empty void, they spend
Their souls through all the openings of their frame.
org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of           a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain
Vanilla ASCII" or other form.
"

CORYDON
"This bristling boar's head, Delian Maid, to thee,
With branching antlers of a           stag,
Young Micon offers: if his luck but hold,
Full-length in polished marble, ankle-bound
With purple buskin, shall thy statue stand.
Lo these starry hosts
They are thy           if thou wilt obey my awful Law
Los answerd furious art thou one of those who when most complacent
Mean mischief most.
KAU}
Casting their           dire abroad into the dismal deep {Alternate reading of "sparkles" for "sparkies.
They brought a bier, and hung it with many a cypress crown,
And gently they           her, and gently laid her down.
Then to my lord, where by the meadow side
He prays the           nymphs.
Chacun de vous m'a fait un temple dans son coeur;
Vous avez, en secret, baise ma fesse          
Note: Ronsard's later           to 'Marie' were written for the Duke of Anjou (the future Henri III) whose mistress Marie de Cleves died in 1574.
And Danaus, our sire and guide,
The king of counsel, pond'ring well
The dice of fortune as they fell,
Out of two griefs the kindlier chose,
And bade us fly, with him beside,
Heedless what winds or waves arose,
And o'er the wide sea waters haste,
Until to Argos' shore at last
Our wandering pinnace came--
Argos, the           home
Of her from whom we boast to come--
Io, the ox-horned maiden, whom,
After long wandering, woe, and scathe,
Zeus with a touch, a mystic breath,
Made mother of our name.
Io volsi 'l viso, e 'l passo non men tosto,
appresso i savi, che           sie,
che l'andar mi facean di nullo costo.
And the clear constellations, that infinite throng,
While thousand rich           swelled in their song,
Replying, bowed meekly their diamond-blaze--
And the blue waves, which nothing may bind or arrest,
Chorus'd forth, as they stooped the white foam of their crest
"Creator!
No annual           or muster of soldiery, no celebration with its
scarfs and banners, could import into the town a hundredth part of the
annual splendor of our October.
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one afternoon in a pool,
An old crab with           on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.
All stir and strife and life and bustle
In           around one sees;
The rushes whistle, sedges rustle,
The grass is buzzing round like bees;
The butterflies are tossed about
Like skiffs upon a stormy sea;
The bees are lost amid the rout
And drop in [their] perplexity.
TO           AND FURIUS IN DEFENCE OF HIS MUSE'S HONESTY.
The brazen heaven is not yet           to him.
"

With a roar and a grunt the Biharin rose to his feet and plunged forward
toward the desert, his driver           with shouts and lamentation.
Leon Bailby

Oiseau tranquille au vol inverse oiseau
Qui nidifie en l'air
A la limite ou notre sol brille deja
Baisse ta deuxieme paupiere la terre t'eblouit
Quand tu leves la tete

Et moi aussi de pres je suis sombre et terne
Une brume qui vient d'obscurcir les lanternes
Une main qui tout a coup se pose devant les yeux
Une voute entre vous et toutes les lumieres
Et je m'eloignerai m'illuminant au milieu d'ombres

Et d'alignements d'yeux des astres bien-aimes

Oiseau tranquille au vol inverse oiseau
Qui nidifie en l'air
A la limite ou brille deja ma memoire
Baisse ta deuxieme paupiere
Ni a cause du soleil ni a cause de la terre
Mais pour ce feu oblong dont l'intensite ira s'augmentant
Au point qu'il           un jour l'unique lumiere

Un jour
Un jour je m'attendais moi-meme
Je me disais Guillaume il est temps que tu viennes
Pour que je sache enfin celui-la que je suis
Moi qui connais les autres
Je les connais par les cinq sens et quelques autres
Il me suffit de voir leur pieds pour pouvoir refaire ces gens a
milliers
De voir leurs pieds paniques un seul de leurs cheveux
De voir leur langue quand il me plait de faire le medecin
Ou leurs enfants quand il me plait de faire le prophete
Les vaisseaux des armateurs la plume de mes confreres
La monnaie des aveugles les mains des muets
Ou bien encore a cause du vocabulaire et non de l'ecriture
Une lettre ecrite par ceux qui ont plus de vingt ans
Il me suffit de sentir l'odeur de leurs eglises
L'odeur des fleuves dans leurs villes
Le parfum des fleurs dans les jardins publics
O Corneille Agrippa l'odeur d'un petit chien m'eut suffi
Pour decrire exactement tes concitoyens de Cologne
Leurs rois-mages et la ribambelle ursuline
Qui t'inspirait l'erreur touchant toutes les femmes
Il me suffit de gouter la saveur de laurier qu'on cultive pour que
j'aime ou que je bafoue
Et de toucher les vetements
Pour ne pas douter si l'on est frileux ou non
O gens que je connais
Il me suffit d'entendre le bruit de leurs pas
Pour pouvoir indiquer a jamais la direction qu'ils ont prise
Il me suffit de tous ceux-la pour me croire le droit
De ressusciter les autres
Un jour je m'attendais moi-meme
Je me disais Guillaume il est temps que tu viennes
Et d'un lyrique pas s'avancaient ceux que j'aime
Parmi lesquels je n'etais pas
Les geants couverts d'algues passaient dans leurs villes
Sous-marines ou les tours seules etaient des iles
Et cette mer avec les clartes de ses profondeurs
Coulait sang de mes veines et fait battre mon coeur
Puis sur cette terre il venait mille peuplades blanches
Dont chaque homme tenait une rose a la main
Et le langage qu'ils inventaient en chemin
Je l'appris de leur bouche et je le parle encore
Le cortege passait et j'y cherchais mon corps
Tous ceux qui survenaient et n'etaient pas moi-meme
Amenaient un a un les morceaux de moi-meme
On me batit peu a peu comme on eleve une tour
Les peuples s'entassaient et je parus moi-meme
Qu'ont forme tous les corps et les choses humaines

Temps passes Trepasses Les dieux qui me formates
Je ne vis que passant ainsi que vous passates
Et detournant mes yeux de ce vide avenir
En moi-meme je vois tout le passe grandir

Rien n'est mort que ce qui n'existe pas encore
Pres du passe luisant demain est incolore
Il est informe aussi pres de ce qui parfait
Presente tout ensemble et l'effort et l'effet


MARIZIBILL

Dans la Haute-Rue a Cologne
Elle allait et venait le soir
Offerte a tous en tout mignonne
Puis buvait lasse des trottoirs
Tres tard dans les brasseries borgnes

Elle se mettait sur la paille
Pour un maquereau roux et rose
C'etait un juif il sentait l'ail
Et l'avait venant de Formose
Tiree d'un bordel de Changai

Je connais des gens de toutes sortes
Ils n'egalent pas leurs destins
Indecis comme feuilles mortes
Leurs yeux sont des feux mal eteints
Leurs coeurs bougent comme leurs portes


LE VOYAGEUR

A Fernand Fleuret

Ouvrez-moi cette porte ou je frappe en pleurant

La vie est variable aussi bien que l'Euripe

Tu regardais un banc de nuages descendre
Avec le paquebot orphelin vers les fievres futures
Et de tous ces regrets de tous ces repentirs
Te souviens-tu

Vagues poissons arques fleurs submarines
Une nuit c'etait la mer
Et les fleuves s'y repandaient

Je m'en souviens je m'en souviens encore

Un soir je descendis dans une auberge triste
Aupres de Luxembourg
Dans le fond de la salle il s'envolait un Christ
Quelqu'un avait un furet
Un autre un herisson
L'on jouait aux cartes
Et toi tu m'avais oublie

Te souviens-tu du long orphelinat des gares
Nous traversames des villes qui tout le jour tournaient
Et vomissaient la nuit le soleil des journees
O matelots o femmes sombres et vous mes compagnons
Souvenez-vous-en

Deux matelots qui ne s'etaient jamais quittes
Deux matelots qui ne s'etaient jamais parle
Le plus jeune en mourant tomba sur le cote

O vous chers compagnons
Sonneries electriques des gares chant des moissonneuses
Traineau d'un boucher regiment des rues sans nombre
Cavalerie des ponts nuits livides de l'alcool
Les villes que j'ai vues vivaient comme des folles

Te souviens-tu des banlieues et du troupeau plaintif des paysages

Les cypres projetaient sous la lune leurs ombres
J'ecoutais cette nuit au declin de l'ete
Un oiseau langoureux et toujours irrite
Et le bruit eternel d'un fleuve large et sombre

Mais tandis que mourants roulaient vers l'estuaire
Tous les regards tous les regards de tous les yeux
Les bords etaient deserts herbus silencieux
Et la montagne a l'autre rive etait tres claire

Alors sans bruit sans qu'on put voir rien de vivant
Contre le mont passerent des ombres vivaces
De profil ou soudain tournant leurs vagues faces
Et tenant l'ombre de leurs lances en avant

Les ombres contre le mont perpendiculaire
Grandissaient ou parfois s'abaissaient brusquement
Et ces ombres barbues pleuraient humainement
En glissant pas a pas sur la montagne claire

Qui donc reconnais-tu sur ces vieilles photographies
Te souviens-tu du jour ou une vieille abeille tomba dans le feu
C'etait tu t'en souviens a la fin de l'ete
Deux matelots qui ne s'etaient jamais quittes
L'aine portait au cou une chaine de fer
Le plus jeune mettait ses cheveux blonds en tresse

Ouvrez-moi cette porte ou je frappe en pleurant

La vie est variable aussi bien que l'Euripe


MARIE

Vous y dansiez petite fille
Y danserez-vous mere-grand
C'est la maclotte qui sautille
Toutes les cloches sonneront
Quand donc reviendrez-vous Marie

Les masques sont silencieux
Et la musique est si lointaine
Qu'elle semble venir des cieux
Oui je veux vous aimer mais vous aimer a peine
Et mon mal est delicieux

Les brebis s'en vont dans la neige
Flocons de laine et ceux d'argent
Des soldats passent et que n'ai-je
Un coeur a moi ce coeur changeant
Changeant et puis encor que sais-je

Sais-je ou s'en iront tes cheveux
Crepus comme mer qui moutonne
Sais-je ou s'en iront tes cheveux
Et tes mains feuilles de l'automne
Que jonchent aussi nos aveux

Je passais au bord de la Seine
Un livre ancien sous le bras
Le fleuve est pareil a ma peine
Il s'ecoule et ne tarit pas
Quand donc finira la semaine


LA BLANCHE NEIGE

Les anges les anges dans le ciel
L'un est vetu en officier
L'un est vetu en cuisinier
Et les autres chantent

Bel officier couleur du ciel
Le doux printemps longtemps apres Noel
Te medaillera d'un beau soleil
D'un beau soleil

Le cuisinier plume les oies
Ah!
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