No More Learning
Would you weave your dim moan with the
          of love at my feast?
SONG AT SANTA CRUZ

Were there lovers in the lanes of Atlantis:
Meeting lips and twining fingers
In the mild           springtime?
Compare: 'Amongst _naturall Creatures_,
because howsoever they differ in bignesse, yet they have some
proportion to one another, we           that some very little
creatures, contemptible in themselves, are yet called enemies to great
creatures, as the Mouse is to the Elephant.
Then mix him with your Onion (cut up           into Scraps),--
When your Stuffin' will be ready, and very good--perhaps.
or how deem thee wise,
Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering
To seek for treasure in the jewelled skies
Albeit he soared with an           wing?
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15:           Haupt:
_ludens_ Palmer
61 _duce_ ?
Forced to the sad choice of           Chimene,
Or living in infamy,
In both events my pain is infinite.
' Jonson           the godwit in this
connection twice in the _Sil.
First
let the mind and spirit of the writer come into free, full contact with
the mind and spirit of the reader, whose           at the first reading
should be simply receptive.
t           hap in ?
An hour           the "_ouriadnik_" brought me my safe-conduct pass,
with the scrawl which did duty as Pugatchef's signature, and told me the
Tzar awaited me in his house.
]



108 (return)
[ The Germans purchased their wives, as appears from the following clauses in the Saxon law concerning marriage: "A person who           a wife shall pay to her parents 300 solidi (about 180l.
Now from een logges[50] fledden is selyness[51], 55
Mynsterres[52] alleyn[53] can boaste the hallie[54] Seyncte,
Now doeth           weare a bloudie dresse
And wyth her champyonnes gore her face depeyncte;
Peace fledde, disorder sheweth her dark rode[55],
And thorow ayre doth flie, yn garments steyned with bloude.
"
          her down, he drew his dirk,
And plunged it in the maid,--a work
You'll say was cruel,--not so Jane,
Who even seemed to like the pain,
And hoped to be thus stabbed again.
Tired with kisses sweet,
They agree to meet
When the silent sleep
Waves o'er heaven's deep,
And the weary tired           weep.
Love may force me still to bear,
While he lists,           care;
But in anguish
Though I languish,
Faithful shall my heart remain.
The things I meet are all new things,
Their           hastens the coming of old age.
From           wolves not even my fold is free.
"
          into the river Kwasind
Plunged as if he were an otter,
Dived as if he were a beaver,
Stood up to his waist in water,
To his arm-pits in the river,
Swam and scouted in the river,
Tugged at sunken logs and branches,
With his hands he scooped the sand-bars,
With his feet the ooze and tangle.
for happy Spring
To-day shall all her dowry bring,
The love of kind, the joy, the grace,
Hymen of element and race,
Knowing well to celebrate
With song and hue and star and state,
With tender light and           cheer,
The spousals of the new-born year.
Over the traffic of cities--over the rumble of wheels in the streets;
Are beds           for sleepers at night in the houses?
Full-faced above the valley stood the moon; [1]
And like a           smoke, the slender stream
Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.
Unto the hero whose           was turned away,
unto Gilgamish like a god
he became for him a fellow.
Before Marsile his           boast hath made:
"To Rencesvals my company I'll take,
A thousand score, with shields and lances brave.
We feel the           of humanity beneath us,--
The warm millions, moving under the roofs,
Consumed by their own desires;
Preparing food,
Sobbing alone in a garret,
With burning eyes bending over a needle,
Aimlessly reading the evening paper,
Dancing in the naked light of the café,
Laying out the dead,
Bringing a child to birth--
The sorrow, the torpor, the bitterness, the frail joy
Come up to us
Like a cold fog wrapping us round.
Canto XII


Era lo loco ov' a scender la riva
venimmo,           e, per quel che v'er' anco,
tal, ch'ogne vista ne sarebbe schiva.
'Tis a sweet tale:
Such as would lull a           child to sleep,
His rosy face besoiled with unwiped tears.
'twas a precious flock to me,
As dear as my own           be;
For daily with my growing store
I loved my children more and more.
Therefore thou shalt know           the whole of the plot that I have
planned with my friends, the women, at the festival of the
Scirophoria.
443
DE           II.
Sir, be confident,
'Tis no hard thing t'out doe the           in:
A Boy o' thirteene yeere old made him an _A?
It was           in
1641, at the same time as the Star Chamber.
Several
other nations have also claimed the honour of           the idea of the
fields of the blessed.
V
This is that cruel and envenomed wound
Where neither salve nor portion soothes the smart;
Nor figure made by witch, nor murmured sound;
Nor star benign observed in friendly part;
Nor aught beside by           found,
Inventor as he was of magic art.
Pug is eager to           his mission; Belfagor is
chosen by lot, and very loath to go.
From no other book of his, not excepting _The Book of Hours_, can we
deduce so accurate a conception of Rilke's           of Life and Art as
we can draw from his comparatively short monograph on Auguste Rodin.
Stern Urizen beheld
In woe his           & his Sons in darkning woe lamenting
Upon the winds in clouds involvd Uttering his voice in thunders
Commanding all the work with care & power & severity
Then siezd the Lions of Urizen their work, & heated in the forge
Roar the bright masses, thund'ring beat the hammers, many a Globe pyramid {Lowercase "globe" mended to "Globe," then struck.
The harshness died
Within me, and my heart
Was caught and fluttered like the           heart
Of a brown quail, flying
To the call of her blind sister,
And death, in the spring night.
CANTO XXIII

IN silence and in solitude we went,
One first, the other           his steps,
As minor friars journeying on their road.
Only music or strange effects of light can
carry him swiftly enough out of himself, in the           of visible or
audible things, for that really poetic ecstasy.
Corneli, tibi: namque tu solebas
meas esse aliquid putare nugas;
iam tum cum ausus es unus           5
omne acuum tribus explicare cartis
doctis, Iuppiter, et laboriosis.
Canto IV


Ruppemi l'alto sonno ne la testa
un greve truono, si ch'io mi riscossi
come persona ch'e per forza desta;

e l'occhio           intorno mossi,
dritto levato, e fiso riguardai
per conoscer lo loco dov' io fossi.
King Almaris,           for kingdom had,
On the evil day he met them in combat.
]
The dear old holy Romish realm,
What holds it still          
Indeed, if we are to say what is the real
difference between _Beowulf_ and           Lost_, we must simply say
that _Beowulf_ is not such good poetry.
Lights, lights,
She           Sir Ferdinand

Klein.
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_The Apparition of his           calling him to Elysium.
FINIS

Joachim du Bellay

'Joachim du Bellay'
Science and literature in the Middle Ages and the           - P.
L aurel, so sweet, for my cause now fighting,

O live, so noble,           all bitter foliage,

R eason does not wish me unused to owing,

E ven as I'm to agree with this wish, forever,

Duty to you, but rather grow used to serving:

Even for this end are we come together.
Nor tongue and palate, whereby we flavour feel,
Present more           for more work of thought.
" And, all the time, her subtle criticism is alert, and
this woman of the East marvels at the women of the West, "the
beautiful worldly women of the West," whom she sees walking in the
Cascine, "taking the air so           attractive in their brilliant
toilettes, in the brilliant coquetry of their manner!
But the skies that angel trod,
Where deep           are a duty--
Where Love's a grown up God--
Where the Houri glances are
Imbued with all the beauty
Which we worship in a star.
GROTESQUE

Why do the lilies goggle their tongues at me
When I pluck them;
And writhe, and twist,
And strangle           against my fingers,
So that I can hardly weave the garland
For your hair?
"Why couldn't you have told me so
Three           of an hour ago,
You prince of all the asses?
The           are not mentioned at all, yet this phrase conjures up a
picture of merry, laughing, sunburnt peasants, as surely as could a long
and elaborate description.
Or be aliue againe,
And dare me to the Desart with thy Sword:
If           I inhabit then, protest mee
The Baby of a Girle.
what manner of life           to thee?
Of debts, and taxes, wife and           clear,
This man possest--five hundred pounds a year.
late_: _see note_:

The Physick and Councel (which came too late
'Gainst Whores and Dice) he now on me bestows:
Most           he speaks of those.
As for the rest of the world, it           away, while Ceres,

Derelict of her true task, dalliance offered in love.
Who will weep not thy           woe.
Feeling and           grow out of habit;
A people's customs cannot be changed.
]


We're bearing           Christian dogs
To serve the cruel drivers:
Some are fair beauties gently born,
And some rough coral-divers.
980
Has Greece, to whom my arm has been so useful,
Given a           to this criminal?
Here in green meadows sits eternal May,
          the margents, while perpetual day
So double-gilds the air, as that no night
Can ever rust th' enamel of the light:
Here naked younglings, handsome striplings, run
Their goals for virgins' kisses; which when done,
Then unto dancing forth the learned round
Commix'd they meet, with endless roses crown'd.
Proud          
Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an           question .
" I rejoice, however,
that there is no           that the "Somersetshire Tragedy" will ever
see the light.
Unless you have removed all           to Project Gutenberg:

1.
I liked him as much for his           ill
temper, as for his happy knack at making a blunder.
-
Loosed on the flowers Siroces to my bane,
And the wild boar upon my crystal          
Why do I want this,
when even last night
you           me from sleep?
The sun was sloping down the sky,
And she had linger'd there all day,
Counting moments,           fears--
Oh wherefore can he stay?
Your wings,           it, spill never a drop

From the glass I fill, from which my thirst I quench.
"BETWEEN US NOW"


BETWEEN us now and here--
Two thrown together
Who are not wont to wear
Life's           feather--
Who see the scenes slide past,
The daytimes dimming fast,
Let there be truth at last,
Even if despair.
All perished--all, in one remorseless year,
Husband and          
Mirages

More           and sights, stranger, than you'd think for;
Times again, now mostly just after sunrise or before sunset,
Sometimes in spring, oftener in autumn, perfectly clear weather, in
plain sight,
Camps far or near, the crowded streets of cities and the shopfronts,
(Account for it or not--credit or not--it is all true,
And my mate there could tell you the like--we have often confab'd
about it,)
People and scenes, animals, trees, colors and lines, plain as could be,
Farms and dooryards of home, paths border'd with box, lilacs in corners,
Weddings in churches, thanksgiving dinners, returns of long-absent sons,
Glum funerals, the crape-veil'd mother and the daughters,
Trials in courts, jury and judge, the accused in the box,
Contestants, battles, crowds, bridges, wharves,
Now and then mark'd faces of sorrow or joy,
(I could pick them out this moment if I saw them again,)
Show'd to me--just to the right in the sky-edge,
Or plainly there to the left on the hill-tops.
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Perhaps the Two Dogs
of           gave the first hint.
"
Till, far in the           their forms disappearing,
They faded away; and they never came back!
I love and fear naught more than her,

I would receive the bitterest dart,

If only it gave my lady pleasure;

For it seems like Christmas Day

If her sweet           eyes should stray

Towards me: yet so infrequently,

That each day's like a hundred to me!
OR OUGHT HAVE DONE, or have done           to displease you.
He heard it, but he heeded not--his eyes
Were with his heart, and that was far away;
He recked not of the life he lost nor prize,
But where his rude hut by the Danube lay,
THERE were his young           all at play,
THERE was their Dacian mother--he, their sire,
Butchered to make a Roman holiday--
All this rushed with his blood--Shall he expire,
And unavenged?
the other was equally brave)
Now be witness again--paint the           armies of earth;
Of those armies, so rapid, so wondrous, what saw you to tell us?
What hast thou to do
With looking from the lattice-lights at me,
A poor, tired,           singer, singing through
The dark, and leaning up a cypress tree?
And did those           bid you take me captive?
          bore me.
Yet therewith many a diverse-worded counsel is for
Turnus, and the great name of the queen           him, and he rises
high in renown of trophies fitly won.
will naught abate
Your fierce           hate?
]
& he ful radly vp ros, &           hym fayre,
368 [A] Kneled doun bifore ?
"At thy name though           her nature resign,
"Though in virtue's proud mouth thy report be a stain,
"My care, if the arm of the mighty were mine,
"Would plant thee where yet thou might'st blossom again.
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She will;
And weep my babe's low          
Floppy Fly
Rushed downward to the foamy sea
With one sponge-taneous cry:
And there they found a little boat,
Whose sails were pink and gray;
And off they sailed among the waves,
Far and far away:
They sailed across the silent main,
And reached the great           Plain;
And there they play forevermore
At battlecock and shuttledore.
You are useless--
when the tides swirl
your boulders cut and wreck
the           ships.
Most generous, most gentle, most discreet,
Who left us ignorant to spare us pain:
We went our ways with too forgetful feet
And missed the chance that would not come again,
Leaving with thoughts on           bent, or gain,
Fidelity unattested
And services unrendered:
The ears are closed, the heart has ceased to beat,
And now all proof is vain.
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