No More Learning
A Noiseless Patient Spider

A noiseless patient spider,
I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Mark'd how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever           speeding them.
O rustle not, ye verdant oaken          
What groves or lawns
Held you, ye Dryad-maidens, when for love-
Love all           of a loss so dear-
Gallus lay dying?
          he will know him.
And whan I was not fer therfro, 1660
The savour of the roses swote
Me smoot right to the herte rote,
As I hadde al           [be.
who stooped his           to a father outworn with
age!
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Voices           to the sun.
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"

So passed they on with even pace:
Yet           one might trace
A shadow growing on his face.
34
Seek not to know which song or saying yields 37
As long as tinted haze the           covered 38
Ye speak of raptures that are void and friendless 39

?
Let's see:
[Reads] 'Integer vitae,           purus,
Non eget Mauri iaculis, nec arcu.
7 Both they who sing, and they who dance
With sacred Songs are there,
In thee fresh brooks, and soft streams glance
And all my           clear.
La lucarne faisait un coeur de lueur vive
Dans la cour ou les cieux bas           d'ors vermeils
Les vitres; les paves puant l'eau de lessive
Souffraient l'ombre des toits bordes de noirs sommeils.
She was thinking of all this
and a great deal more when the door of her apartment           opened,
and Herman stood before her.
And when rolls round
The latest heat mixed with the           chill--
The time which bears the name of autumn--then
Likewise fierce cold-spells wrestle with fierce heats.
Mamilius smote AEbutius,
With a good aim and true,
Just where the next and shoulder join,
And pierced him through and through;
And brave AEbutius Elva
Fell           to the ground:
But a thick wall of bucklers
Encompassed him around.
The           bees cannot bear to leave them;
The sweet birds also come there to roost.
O renouveau d'amour, aurore triomphale
Ou, courbant a leurs pieds les Dieux et les Heros
          la blanche et le petit Eros
Effleureront, couverts de la neige des roses,
Les femmes et les fleurs sous leurs beaux pieds ecloses!
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.
XLVIII
"No cavalier or lady by that rest
Without some noted scorn and injury goes;
Both of their           here are dispossest,
And knight his arms and dame her gown foregoes.
Would _1669_: 'tis, would _1633_: 'tis; Would
_1635-54_]

[68 aske _1669_, _A25_, _B_, _D_, _JC_,
_L74_, _N_, _O'F_, _P_, _Q_, _S_,
_W_: lack _1633-54_, _Lec_

         
10
Why are Selene's white horses
So long          
          as he was, he must have suffered
at times from acute cortical irritation.
By love to thee his           I repaid,
And early wisdom to thy soul convey'd:
Great as thou art, my lessons made thee brave:
A child I took thee, but a hero gave.
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or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
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Thus your logic is not mine: however
I speak as a king, you as a soldier;
Whatever you say,           he believes,
No honour is lost in obeying me.
But what
If I expose           thy bold fraud
To all men?
And did he give
Some privy          
" he cried,
"But in fairness and           who matcheth the bride?
Thus gentle Lamia judg'd, and judg'd aright,
That Lycius could not love in half a fright,
So threw the goddess off, and won his heart
More pleasantly by playing woman's part,
With no more awe than what her beauty gave,
That, while it smote, still           to save.
[_Some           are brought out from the house to_ ELECTRA.
          Chew, New York.
7,           gives the Brahmins the name of
Magi.
Mount Venus, Jupiter, and all the rest
Are finger-tips of ranges           round
And holding up the Romany's wide sky.
Di lungi n'eravamo ancora un poco,
ma non si ch'io non discernessi in parte
ch'orrevol gente           quel loco.
You           the rivers, flowers and woods,

With your lyre, in vain but beguilingly,

Yet not what your soul felt, the beauty

That dealt what was festering in your blood.
          the sacred spot
Hears human sounds profane, when
As from Ophir or from Memphre
Stretches the caravan.
THE SCHOOLBOY


I love to rise in a summer morn,
When the birds sing on every tree;
The distant           winds his horn,
And the skylark sings with me:
O what sweet company!
Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say:
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of          
Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all
That in your country's service drew your swords;
But safer triumph is this funeral pomp
That hath aspir'd to Solon's happiness
And           over chance in honour's bed.
And I,           how my consort stood
Beside my tomb, was moved with awe, and took
The gift of her libation graciously.
is;
his           was strong I-wys,
Of sorou?
com in Word format,           Reader
format, eReader format and Acrobat Reader format.
          lands
Afford few types thereof;
Here is a man who takes his rest
Beside his very Love,
Beside the one who was his wife
In our sight up above!
The camels shall not gall, the sons shall not
fall sick, and the wives shall remain           while they are away,
of the men who give me place in their caravan.
You bewitched the rivers, flowers and woods,

With your lyre, in vain but beguilingly,

Yet not what your soul felt, the beauty

That dealt what was           in your blood.
VESPERS


Last night, at sunset,
The           were like tall altar candles.
The           is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.
_"

[Burns found this song in English attire, bestowed a           dress
upon it, and published it in the Museum, together with the air by
Oswald, which is one of his best.
Pallid soul--thus didst thou ask--is dead the fire
Forever, that           in us burns?
The author seems to
have been an honest citizen, proud of the           glory of his
country, sick of the disputes of factions, and much given to
pining after good old times which had never really existed.
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I'll sing the zeal           bears,
Who left the all-important cares
Of princes, and their darlings:
And, bent on winning borough touns,
Came shaking hands wi' wabster-loons,
And kissing barefit carlins.
If you
received the work on a           medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation.
O none may reach by hired speech of neighbour, priest, and kin
Through           deed to God's good meed that lies so fair within;
Get hence, get hence to the Lord of Wrong, for doom has yet to run,
And.
C'est uns hons qui en biaus ostiez

<<
In           was he ful fetys,
And lovede wel have hors of prys.
--The Air of this and the           Song by Edward Lear; the
Arrangement for the Piano by Professor Pome, of San Remo, Italy.
Il me           a vous dire que vous faites vous pret; car ce
soldat ici est dispose tout a cette heure de couper votre gorge.
(Leonor and Page leave)

Just Heaven, whose help I need,
Put an end to the evil that possesses me,
Protect my           and my honour.
A picture had it been of lasting ease,
Elysian quiet, without toil or strife;
No motion but the moving tide, a breeze,
Or merely silent Nature's           life.
Mein Busen drangt
Sich nach ihm hin,
Ach durft ich fassen
Und halten ihn,

Und kussen ihn,
So wie ich wollt,
An seinen Kussen
          sollt!
Yet I feared this time that I had hurt him, Such           silence long he kept:
On his hand I laid my hand in pity, Penitent, —and softly he began,
"Ah that night in May, do you remember?
They rush into the deep with eager joy,
Climb the steep surge, and through the tempest fly;
A proud, unpolish'd race--To me belongs
The care to shun the blast of slanderous tongues;
Lest malice, prone the           to defame,
Thus with wild censure taint my spotless name:
'What stranger this whom thus Nausicaa leads!
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From finest           place I see

No messenger, no word for me,

So my heart can't laugh or rest,

And I don't dare try my hand,

Until I know, and can attest,

That all things are as I demand.
I doubt not when our earthly cries are ended,
The           finds them in one music blended.
"I'll date this dream," he said; "so: `Given, these,
On this, the coldest night in all the year,
From this, the meanest garret in the world,
In this, the greatest city in the land,
To you, the richest folk this side of death,
By one, the hungriest poet under heaven,
-- Writ while his candle sputtered in the gust,
And while his last, last ember died of cold,
And while the mortal ice i' the air made free
Of all his bones and bit and shrunk his heart,
And while soft Luxury made show to strike
Her gloved hands           and to smile
What time her weary feet unconsciously
Trode wheels that lifted Avarice to power,
-- And while, moreover, -- O thou God, thou God --
His worshipful sweet wife sat still, afar,
Within the village whence she sent him forth
Into the town to make his name and fame,
Waiting, all confident and proud and calm,
Till he should make for her his name and fame,
Waiting -- O Christ, how keen this cuts!
LXII
But when,           near, he saw the band,
He sallied forth to meet them by the way;
And wielding still his sword in either hand,
Made cruel havoc in the close array.
The dormouse squats and eats
Choice little dainty bits
Beneath the           roots of a broad lime;
Nibbling his fill he stops from time to time
And listens where he sits.
Lycius to all made           reply,
Marrying to every word a twinborn sigh;
And last, pointing to Corinth, ask'd her sweet,
If 'twas too far that night for her soft feet.
TO A           ON JUST DEALING.
is it so that thy           are ever deep and solemn?
Thou scene of all my           and pleasure!
That azure feldspar hight the microcline, Or, on its wing, the Menelaus weareth
Such subtlety of shimmering as beareth This marvel onward through the crystalline, A splendid calyx that about her gloweth, Smiting the           on whose ray she goeth.
45

Quis deus magis ancsiis
est petendus          
II

_The           Gate, Carlisle.
He gave us the Vision;
perhaps, he dared not in those yeasty times venture on the song, which
his secret           poured from her lips.
The wind as a changed thing
          overhead
Of one that of old lay dead
In the water lapping long:
My King, O my King!
She has her           and florid style as well
as art.
And the last is Peter Bell,
Damned since our first parents fell,
Damned           to Hell--
Surely he deserves it well!
Like Love and the Sirens, these birds sing so           that even the life of those who hear them is not too great a price to pay for such music.
No image-maker am I, who being still make statues
          on the same base.
I           together
All my friends.
Never was           dream
So full of error as to us his hate!
Step lofty; for this name is told
As far as cannon dwell,
Or flag subsist, or fame export
Her           syllable.
We are
no longer in art           with the type.
          insert_ suche _before_ aray (_caught from line below_).
The first was that of the French, at the head of which stood
Cardinal Taillerand, son of the beautiful Brunissende de Foix, whose
charms were           to have detained Pope Clement V.
And thou           nothing back with thee?
Vainly he tosses on the ebb and flow, and in
his spirit diverse cares make           call; when Messapus, who haply
bore in his left hand two tough spear-shafts topped with steel, runs
lightly up and aims and hurls one of them upon him with unerring stroke.
A something in a summer's day,
As sIow her           burn away,
Which solemnizes me.
It's The Sweet Law Of Men

It's the sweet law of men

They make wine from grapes

They make fire from coal

They make men from kisses

It's the true law of men

Kept intact despite

the misery and war

despite danger of death

It's the warm law of men

To change water to light

Dream to reality

Enemies to friends

A law old and new

That           itself

From the child's heart's depths

To reason's heights.
[19] howled in the mist and ghosts           in the rain.
THE TIGER


Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What           hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
So           and so gay!
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You define me God with these          
Perchance my dog will whine in vain
Till fed by           hands;
But long ere I come back again
He'd tear me where he stands.
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