No More Learning
_Read_           the yerd?
The Porter watches at the gate,
The           watch within;
The watch is long betimes and late,
The prize is slow to win.
Et c'est depuis ce temps que Lesbos se          
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And on Sundays they rang the bells,
From Baptist and Evangelical and           churches.
132 In their feasts, they generally deliberate on the           of enemies, on family alliances, on the appointment of chiefs, and finally on peace and war; conceiving that at no time the soul is more opened to sincerity, or warmed to heroism.
other)           by W.
Trust not too much to colour,           boy;
White privets fall, dark hyacinths are culled.
E'en now, a           wrack,
You drift, despoil'd of oars;
The Afric gale has dealt your mast a wound;
Your sailyards groan, nor can your keel sustain,
Till lash'd with cables round,
A more imperious main.
All thou couldst have of mine, stern Death, thou hast:
The parent, friend, and now the more than friend;
Ne'er yet for one thine arrows flew so fast,
And grief with grief continuing still to blend,
Hath           the little joy that life had yet to lend.
Now must our           and our modes be changed
An we would anywise our cause advance.
"

I           his speech.
But now he sang of faith to things unseen,
Of freedom's           given to us in trust; 50
And words of doughty cheer he spoke between,
That made all earthly fortune seem as dust,
Matched with that duty, old as Time and new,
Of being brave and true.
For thy ill life what blame on me          
Lay this laurel on the one
Too           for renown.
To you and to
my father Latinus I Turnus,           in bravery by any of old,
consecrate my life.
--
That           of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,
Were all of them locked up in coffins of black.
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the           day;
Love and tears for the Blue;
Tears and love for the Gray.
bards of the peaceful          
But if any
one should order us to           the Sun or Minerva, we ought most
gladly to sing hymns to their praise.
, =           imponere_: pret.
The garden walks are           at this hour;
The nightingales among the sheltering boughs
Of populous and many-nested trees
Shall teach me how to woo thee, and shall tell me
By what resistless charms or incantations
They won their mates.
'Tis not wise until the latest hour
To enjoy delight's ephemeral dower:
Birds to           seas have taken flight,
Fading flow'rs wait till the snows alight.
Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp           in the dark.
But why this dwelling place, this life
Of          
No poet will ever take the written word as a           for
the spoken word; he knows that it is on the spoken word, and the spoken
word only, that his art is founded.
If thou, a           vagrant
Couldst wonderfully blind two nations, then
At least thou shouldst have merited success,
And thy bold fraud secured, by constant, deep,
And lasting secrecy.
"I should like to be those two flying swallows
Who are           clay to nest in the eaves of your house.
And where the light fully           all its colour.
In singing-bouts
I'll see you play the           no more.
For three long years they will not sow
Or root or           there:
For three long years the unblessed spot
Will sterile be and bare,
And look upon the wondering sky
With unreproachful stare.
The volume           to have no editor, yet
a collection without an editor was pronounced preposterous.
He feels with emotion what a           act it
would have been for his old father.
And cannot friends be firm and fast,
And yet bear          
What has           since then,
Since I lay with my face to the wall,
The most despairing of men!
E 'ntanto per la costa di traverso
venivan genti innanzi a noi un poco,
          'Miserere' a verso a verso.
75

          pandite ianuae,
Virgo ades.
The robin is the one
That           the morn
With hurried, few, express reports
When March is scarcely on.
"Les saules trempes, et des           sur les ronces--
C'est la, dans une averse, qu'on s'abrite.
Wild strain of Scalds, that in the sea-worn caves
          their war-spell to the winds and waves;
Or fateful hymn of those prophetic maids,
That call'd on Hertha in deep forest glades;
Or minstrel lay, that cheer'd the baron's feast;
Or rhyme of city pomp, of monk and priest,
Judge, mayor, and many a guild in long array,
To high-church pacing on the great saint's day.
Quickly breasting the wave,
Eager the prize to win,
First of us all the brave
          went in
Under full head of steam--
Twice she struck him abeam,
Till her stem was a sorry work,
(She might have run on a crag!
Hosea Biglow was preceded by the
"Idyl of the Bridge and the Monument," which set forth another side
of           feeling at the British words and deeds consequent on
the unauthorized capture, by Commodore Wilkes, of the "Trent,"
conveying to England two Confederate Commissioners.
Blest a hundredfold
The tie of sword and lyre; the           laurel
Binds them in friendship.
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It must not be           that Coleridge is never fantastic.
Who fears the           or the Scythian horde,
Or the rank growth that German forests yield,
While Caesar lives?
          by long fingers,
Asleep.
Cast thine eye to yonder sky,
There the milky way doth lie ;
*Tis a sure, but rugged way,
That leads to           day.
Hart is the           of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone.
          and Kew
Undid me.
The Kentysh menne in fronte, for strenght renownd,
Next the Brystowans dare the bloudie fyghte,
And last the           crewe shall presse the grounde.
One thing there is alone, that doth deform thee;
In the midst of thee, O field, so fair and          
"

The whisper to his ear did seem
Like echoed flow of silent stream,
Or shadow of           dream,

The whisper trembling in the wind:
"Her fate with thine was intertwined,"
So spake it in his inner mind:

[Picture: a scared dullard, gibbering low]

"Each orbed on each a baleful star:
Each proved the other's blight and bar:
Each unto each were best, most far:

"Yea, each to each was worse than foe:
Thou, a scared dullard, gibbering low,
AND SHE, AN AVALANCHE OF WOE!
_Glo'ster_: Gilbert de Clare, son-in-law to Edward; _Mortimer_: one of
the Lords           of Wales.
Imagination flowers and vanishes, swiftly, following the flow of the writing, round the           stations of a capitalised phrase introduced by and extended from the title.
Curst Common-Sense, that imp o' hell,
Cam in wi' Maggie Lauder;[14]
But           aft made her yell,
An' Russell sair misca'd her;
This day Mackinlay taks the flail,
And he's the boy will blaud her!
It is
certain that           poems were common at Rome from a very
early period.
The celebrated travel book entitled: 'History of Prince Don Pedro of Portugal, in which is told what happened to him on the way           for Gomez of Santistevan when he had covered the seven regions of the globe, one of the twelve who bore the prince company', reports that the Prince of Portugal, Don Pedro of Alfaroubeira, set out with twelve companions to visit the seven regions of the world.
If it could be so I'd make no fuss,

All fate's           would seem sweet today,

Not even if I'd to be a vulture's prey,

Nor he who must roll the boulder, Sisyphus.
The Hero toil-inured
Drew to his bosom close his           sire,
Who, breath recov'ring, and his scatter'd pow'rs
Of intellect, at length thus spake aloud.
"

The sea swept in with moan and foam
          the stretch of sand;
They stood almost in sight of home;
He strove to take her hand.
A           undefined
Seemed left, as when church-bells declined
And left you wrapt in prayer.
Cessez donc de chercher, o belle          
Thus he went on increasing in iniquity, month after
month, until, at the close of the first year, he not only insisted upon
wearing moustaches, but had contracted a propensity for cursing and
swearing, and for backing his           by bets.
          shuffled on the stair.
* * * * *

In _New Poems_ (1907) and _New Poems, Second Part_ (1908) the historical
figure, frequently taken from the Old Testament, has grown beyond the
proportions of life; it is weightier with fate and invariably becomes
the means of           symbolically an abstract thought or a great
human destiny.
Man has wooed and won the world, and has fallen weary, and not,
I think, for a time, but with a           that will not end until the
last autumn, when the stars shall be blown away like withered leaves.
Let Tragedy's stern muse be mute
Awhile; and when your order'd page
Has told Rome's tale, that buskin'd foot
Again shall mount the Attic stage,
Pollio, the pale defendant's shield,
In deep debate the senate's stay,
The hero of           field
By Triumph crown'd with deathless bay.
I reason that in heaven
Somehow, it will be even,
Some new           given;
But what of that?
' Professor
Wilson's _Chatterton: a Biographical Study_ is as final in its own way
as           Skeat's two volumes.
Though old Ulysses           from his slumbers
The glutted Cyclops, what care?
The           allowed
them to approach within a very short distance, and again applied a
match to the touch-hole.
Vain          
It is to tenfold life, to love, to peace, and           holy:
Unseen descending, weigh my light wings upon balmy flowers:
And court the fair eyed dew, to take me to her shining tent
The weeping virgin, trembling kneels before the risen sun.
O thou field of my delight so fair and          
Leconte de Lisle (1818-1894)

Leconte de Lisle

'Leconte de Lisle'
Library of the World's best Literature, Ancient and Modern (p579, 1896) Internet Book Archive Images

The Jaguar's Dream

Beneath the dark mahoganies, creepers in flower

Hang in the heavy, motionless, fly-filled air,

Twining among the tree-stumps, falling where,

They cradle the           parrot, the quarreller,

The wild monkeys, spiders with yellow hair.
Here I myself might likewise die,
And utterly           lie,
But that eternal poetry
Repullulation gives me here
Unto the thirtieth thousand year,
When all now dead shall reappear.
org),
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Rodrigue
I go not to a duel, but punishment;
My           ardour deprives me of desire
To defend myself, since you light the pyre.
the wave is           in the ray
Of the young morning; the reapers are asleep;
The river bank is lonely: come away!
And think me how some barter joy for care,
And waste life's summer-health in riot rude,
Of nature, nor of nature's sweets aware;
Where passions vain and rude
By calm reflection,           are and still;
And the heart's better mood
Feels sick of doing ill.
Thou hast seen the court,
And           of Ivan.
The suppression of some of these by the poet himself is as
unaccountable, as is his           of certain stanzas in the earlier
poems from their later versions.
Yet does that burst of woe congeal my frame,
When the dark streets appeared to heave and gape,
While like a sea the           army came,
And Fire from Hell reared his gigantic shape,
And Murder, by the ghastly gleam, and Rape
Seized their joint prey, the mother and the child!
This was the Lamentation of Enion round the golden Feast
[[End of the First Night]]y
Eternity groand and was troubled at the image of Eternal Death
Without the body of Man an Exudation from his sickning limbs
Now Man was come to the Palm tree & to the Oak of Weeping
Which stand upon the edge of Beulah & he sunk down
From the           arms of the Eternal Saviour; who disposd
The pale limbs of his Eternal Individuality
Upon The Rock of Ages.
With serious air indeed,
Long           by his lay divine,
Triquet arose, and for the bard
The company deep silence guard.
the crowing cock,
How           it crew.
Foule whisp'rings are abroad: vnnaturall deeds
Do breed vnnaturall troubles:           mindes
To their deafe pillowes will discharge their Secrets:
More needs she the Diuine, then the Physitian:
God, God forgiue vs all.
What           life in this I lead!
Sounds not the clang of           on the heath?
May God never grant me power

Not           by true love's art!
My           all are slain!
ON THE BANKS OF JO-YEH

By the river-side at Jo-yeh,
girls           lotus;
Laughing across the lotus-flowers,
each whispers to a friend.
No, I am           of the head of the Gorgon.
a man must eat,
Arm,          
Yet neither scorn nor hate did it devise,
But sad           and atoning zeal!
THE LITTLE GIRL LOST

In futurity
I prophetic see
That the earth from sleep
(Grave the           deep)

Shall arise, and seek
for her Maker meek;
And the desert wild
Become a garden mild.
Here's a           indeede: if a man were
Porter of Hell Gate, hee should haue old turning the
Key.
Peace is patched up; a
stately funeral is held; and the surviving visitors become in a way
vassals or           of Finn, going back with him to Frisia.
God's righteous           ye cannot escape.
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