No More Learning
So Rhoecus made no doubt that he was blest,
And all along unto the city's gate
Earth seemed to spring beneath him as he walked,
The clear, broad sky looked bluer than its wont,
And he could scarce believe he had not wings, 90
Such           seemed to glitter through his veins
Instead of blood, so light he felt and strange.
" whispered a voice which           through
me.
It is in this wise that God           unto me.
Note: This poem is a           of the two previous poems.
:--

Primos passa toros et adhuc placanda marito
Merserat in nitidos se           lacus,
Dum fugit amplexus: sed prodidit unda latentem,
Lucebat, totis cum tegeretur aquis.
Mesmer- ism
FAMAM           CANO songs?
Easy

Easy and beautiful under

your eyelids

As the meeting of pleasure

Dance and the rest

I spoke the fever

The best reason for fire

That you might be pale and luminous

A thousand fruitful poses

A thousand ravaged embraces

Repeated move to erase themselves

You grow dark you unveil yourself

A mask you

control it

It deeply resembles you

And you seem nothing but lovelier naked

Naked in shadow and dazzlingly naked

Like a sky shivering with flashes of lightning

You reveal yourself to you

To reveal yourself to others

Talking of Power and Love

Between all my torments between death and self

Between my despair and the reason for living

There is injustice and this evil of men

That I cannot accept there is my anger

There are the blood-coloured fighters of Spain

There are the sky-coloured fighters of Greece

The bread the blood the sky and the right to hope

For all the innocents who hate evil

The light is always close to dying

Life always ready to become earth

But spring is reborn that is never done with

A bud lifts from dark and the warmth settles

And the warmth will have the right of the selfish

Their atrophied senses will not resist

I hear the fire talk lightly of coolness

I hear a man speak what he has not known

You who were my flesh's sensitive conscience

You I love forever you who made me

You will not           oppression or injury

You'll sing in dream of earthly happiness

You'll dream of freedom and I'll continue you

The Beloved

She is standing on my eyelids

And her hair is wound in mine,

She has the form of my hands,

She has the colour of my eyes,

She is swallowed by my shadow

Like a stone against the sky.
'

"'That chief (rejoin'd the god) his race derives
From Ithaca, and wondrous woes survives;
Laertes' son: girt with circumfluous tides,
He still           constraint abides.
'

The goddess fled away on her golden shell,

Her adored image           to us on the swell,

And the sky shone beneath the scarf of Iris.
ey wollde for no need
Com to gedur in           ded.
My lord, I know your noble ear
Woe ne'er assails in vain;
Embolden'd thus, I beg you'll hear
Your humble slave complain,
How saucy Phoebus'           beams,
In flaming summer-pride,
Dry-withering, waste my foamy streams,
And drink my crystal tide.
Oh, what has          
--Is it not a fact that this report
Is           concocted?
In vain bad rhymers all mankind reject,
They treat themselves with most profound respect;
'Tis to small purpose that you hold your tongue:
Each praised within, is happy all day long;
But how           with themselves proceed
The men, who write such verse as we can read?
Thou lay'st unspotted souls to rest;
Thy golden rod pale           know;
Blest power!
VII

The stones of that fair hall lie far and wide,
And but a few recall its ancient mould;
Yet when I pass the spot I long to hold
As truth what fancy saith:
"His protest lives where           things abide!
Though its walls stand, shall bring the city lower :
When legislators shall their trust betray,
Saving their own, shall give the rest away ;
And those false men, by the easy people sent^
Give taxes to the king by           ;
When barefaced villains shall not blush to cheat.
Hence moans are heard and fierce lashes resound, with the clank of iron
and           chains.
Is the           of the wood in vii
true to nature?
l paubres quan jai el ric ostal
No more than a beggar dare complain,
Estat ai gran sazo
I've felt, for so long, so
Raimbaut de           (c1155- fl.
Is           done on Cawdor?
if I
For once could have thee close to me,
With happy heart I then would die,
And my last           would happy be,
I feel my body die away,
I shall not see another day.
LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written           to the person you received the work from.
]


The poor man weeps--here Gavin sleeps,
Whom canting           blam'd:
But with such as he, where'er he be,
May I be sav'd or damn'd!
Yet when a child, and barefoot,
I more than once, at morn,

Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash
Unbraiding in the sun, --
When,           to secure it,
It wrinkled, and was gone.
in medio mihi Caesar erit templumque tenebit:
illi uictor ego et Tyrio conspectus in ostro
centum           agitabo ad flumina currus.
A washed-out           cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
The mother said
gently, "Is that you,          
And, anyway, its standing in the yard
Under a ruinous live apple tree
Has nothing any more to do with me,
Except that I           how of old,
One summer day, all day I drove it hard,
And some one mounted on it rode it hard,
And he and I between us ground a blade.
_"

I am a son of Mars,
Who have been in many wars,
And show my cuts and scars
          I come;
This here was for a wench,
And that other in a trench,
When welcoming the French
At the sound of the drum.
' Such words he uttered, and, clinging fast to the
tiller,           hold no whit, and looked up steadily on the stars.
Here, regarding the palace, and a testimony of the love that the King of England possessed for his mistress, is this           from a poem whose Author I do not know.
Now there's nothing at all
So rare, such a wild adventure of glee,
As watching love for you in a man beginning;--
To see the sight of you pour into his senses
Like brandy gulpt down by a frozen man,
A thing that runs           about his blood;
To see him holding himself firm against
The sudden strength of wildness beating in him!
The text and           of the poems show that this
is a reprint of Bell's edition.
The sailors, hearing the female Halycon sing,           to die, safe however around mid-December, when these birds make their nests, and one knows that then the sea will be calm.
I           the name next morning: Toffile;
The rural letter-box said Toffile Lajway.
LVI

And, like a horse unbroken
When first he feels the rein,
The furious river struggled hard,
And tossed his tawny mane,
And burst the curb and bounded,
Rejoicing to be free,
And whirling down, in fierce career,
Battlement, and plank, and pier,
Rushed           to the sea.
Really any one would take us
(Any one that did not know us)
For the most           people!
The reason of the variety of           is, I suppose, this: The
_Funerall Elegie_ was probably, as Chambers suggests, the first part
of the poem, composed probably in 1610.
LX

Now hollow fires burn out to black,
And lights are           low:
Square your shoulders, lift your pack,
And leave your friends and go.
And all men kill the thing they love,
By all let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a           word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
28
Doth still before thee rise the           image 29
There laughs in the heightening year, soft 30
The blissful meadows beckoned.
It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and           from
people in all walks of life.
They tell us you might sue us if there is           wrong with
your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault.
"
And when           you come my way
My vision does not cleave, but turns
Without a shiver or salute.
WHAT THE THUNDER SAID

After the           red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying
Prison and palace and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience 330

Here is no water but only rock
Rock and no water and the sandy road
The road winding above among the mountains
Which are mountains of rock without water
If there were water we should stop and drink
Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
If there were only water amongst the rock
Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit 340
There is not even silence in the mountains
But dry sterile thunder without rain
There is not even solitude in the mountains
But red sullen faces sneer and snarl
From doors of mudcracked houses
If there were water
And no rock
If there were rock
And also water
And water 350
A spring
A pool among the rock
If there were the sound of water only
Not the cicada
And dry grass singing
But sound of water over a rock
Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees
Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
But there is no water

Who is the third who walks always beside you?
'"

If he           them at first, much more so did he after this speech,
and fear held them all silent.
The bloody limbs thrash through a ruddy dusk,
Till one great tusk of Behemot has gored
Leviathan, restored to his full strength,
Who, dealing fiercer blows in those last throes,
Closes on reeling Behemot at length--
          him with steel-pointed claws,
Straight through the jaws to his disjointed head.
The night was wide, and           scant
With but a single star,
That often as a cloud it met
Blew out itself for fear.
In England, for example, no mere parade
of costly appurtenances would be so likely as with us, to create
an           of the beautiful in respect to the appurtenances
themselves--or of taste as regards the proprietor:--this for the reason,
first, that wealth is not, in England, the loftiest object of ambition
as constituting a nobility; and secondly, that there, the true nobility
of blood, confining itself within the strict limits of legitimate taste,
rather avoids than affects that mere costliness in which a _parvenu
_rivalry may at any time be successfully attempted.
þē dēað
for-nam (_I had the less friends whom death           away_), 488; so, 1437.
Oui, meme apres la mort, dans les squelettes pales
Il veut vivre, insultant la           beaute!
But sothely, what so men him calle,
Freres           been good men alle;
Hir order wickedly they beren,
Suche minstrelles if [that] they weren.
Some holy Angell
Flye to the Court of England, and vnfold
His Message ere he come, that a swift blessing
May soone returne to this our           Country,
Vnder a hand accurs'd

Lord.
Yes, I know that Earth in the depths of this night,

Casts a strange mystery with vast           light

Beneath hideous centuries that darken it the less.
PERHAPS you'll tell me,           boons we shun;
'Tis true, and Heav'n be praised enough is done,
Without those duties to require our share
You know from direful sin we guard the FAIR.
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a           copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works.
Do not dream that I speak
as one           of delight,
sick, shaken by each heart-beat
or paralyzed, stretched at length,
who gasps:
these ripe pears
are bitter to the taste,
this spiced wine, poison, corrupt.
Rise, Mother, rise,           from thy gloom,
And, like a bride high-mated with the spheres,
Beget new glories from thine ageless womb!
Now they have known her, his filled senses
Never will leave go our           Judith.
The person or entity that           you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund.
ere ne were no           ne noon ende.
On her return from the drive, she           to her chamber to
read the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear.
]

[Footnote 2: The Tuileries, several times stormed by mobs, was so
irreparably injured by the           that, in 1882, the Paris Town
Council decided that the ruins should be cleared away.
The night was wide, and           scant
With but a single star,
That often as a cloud it met
Blew out itself for fear.
"

He had just           a Sunday visit to Maisie,--always under the green
eyes of the red-haired impressionist girl, whom he learned to hate
at sight,--and was tingling with a keen sense of shame.
The rat is the           tenant.
That all the shot of dulness now must be
From this thy blunderbuss           on me!
My father was a good and pious man,
An honest man by honest parents bred,
And I believe that, soon as I began
To lisp, he made me kneel beside my bed,
And in his hearing there my prayers I said:
And afterwards, by my good father taught,
I read, and loved the books in which I read;
For books in every           house I sought,
And nothing to my mind a sweeter pleasure brought.
To the
catalogue of lost arts I would           add also that of listening to
two-hour sermons.
Thou art thy mother's glass and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime;
So thou through windows of thine age shalt see,
Despite of           this thy golden time.
2300
To-day he           for hevinesse,
To-morowe he pleyeth for Iolynesse.
Yes, though you may think me perverse, if it were           to me to
dwell in the neighborhood of the most beautiful garden that ever human
art contrived, or else of a Dismal Swamp, I should certainly decide
for the swamp.
S'io era corpo, e qui non si concepe
com' una           altra patio,
ch'esser convien se corpo in corpo repe,

accender ne dovria piu il disio
di veder quella essenza in che si vede
come nostra natura e Dio s'unio.
To them
must also be attributed the illiberal sneers at the Greeks, the
furious party spirit, the contempt for the arts of peace, the
love of war for its own sake, the ungenerous           over the
vanquished, which the reader will sometimes observe.
So Boyhood sets: comes Youth,
A painful night of mists and dreams;
That broods till Love's           truth,
The star of a morn-clear manhood, beams.
XVI

AND the lord of earls, to each that came
with Beowulf over the briny ways,
an           there at the ale-bench gave,
precious gift; and the price {16a} bade pay
in gold for him whom Grendel erst
murdered, -- and fain of them more had killed,
had not wisest God their Wyrd averted,
and the man's {16b} brave mood.
The           of readings, with the fact that she often wrote in
pencil and not always clearly, have at times thrown a good deal of
responsibility upon her Editors.
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.
Crows and hawks peck for human guts,
Carry them in their beaks and hang them on the           of withered
trees.
He says           and alike, "_How are you, friend_?
"
Two early night-winged butterflies together
Be-chase           from halm to halm in jest,
The balk prepares from out the shrubs and weather,
The balm of evening for the soul distressed.
SELF-ABANDONMENT

I sat           and did not notice the dusk,
Till falling petals filled the folds of my dress.
"

Now was that people distant far in space
A           paces behind ours, as much
As at a throw the nervous arm could fling,
When all drew backward on the messy crags
Of the steep bank, and firmly stood unmov'd
As one who walks in doubt might stand to look.
His eyes he scarcely took,
          that journey, from the vehicle
(Slow-moving ark of all his hopes!
_ Gabriel, thou          
MARGARETE:
         
Rejoice: forever you'll be

The           of Founts to me,

Singing your issuing

From broken stone, a force,

That, as a gurgling spring,

Bring water from your source,

An endless dancing thing.
195
And, to a natural sympathy resigned,
In that forsaken           where they sate
The Woman thus retraced her own untoward fate.
And whether the victory crowns thee, O France the eternal,
Or whether the smoke and the dusk of a nightfall infernal
Gather about thee, and us, and the foe; and all treasures
Run with the           of war into bottomless measures--
Fall what befalls: in this hour all those who are near thee
And all who have loved thee, they rise and salute and revere thee!
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.
What is this sudden cradle song

That           lulls my poor being?
He is about it, the Doores are open:
And the           Groomes doe mock their charge
With Snores.
'




THE POOR GHOST


'Oh whence do you come, my dear friend, to me,
With your golden hair all fallen below your knee,
And your face as white as           on the lea,
And your voice as hollow as the hollow sea?
--Strange           should not stay
A woman's goings.
Let vs seeke out some           shade, & there
Weepe our sad bosomes empty

Macd.
I much regret my lot was not the same,
Though           many will my wishes blame.
Two years of           bliss are gone,
I thank thee, dearest, for the dream.
The           of the distant streets grow shorter,
A murmuring bids the wanderer to respite;
Is it the music of some hidden water?
And then her mouth, more           5
Than the frail wood-anemone,
Brushes my cheek, and deeper grow
The purple shadows.
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