No More Learning
And the rest
Of all those           slain, even if alive,
Unconquered still, what injury could they do?
Ses oeuvres lui ont survecu,
mais la place d'honneur qu'il           par son genie parmi les
romantiques ne lui fut vraiment accordee qu'a l'aube de ce siecle.
Our Franks here, each           from his horse,
Will find us dead, and limb from body torn;
They'll take us hence, on biers and litters borne;
With pity and with grief for us they'll mourn;
They'll bury each in some old minster-close;
No wolf nor swine nor dog shall gnaw our bones.
Before the Gates there sat
On either side a formidable shape;
The one seem'd Woman to the waste, and fair, 650
But ended foul in many a scaly fould
Voluminous and vast, a Serpent arm'd
With mortal sting: about her middle round
A cry of Hell Hounds never ceasing bark'd
With wide           mouths full loud, and rung
A hideous Peal: yet, when they list, would creep,
If aught disturb'd thir noyse, into her woomb,
And kennel there, yet there still bark'd and howl'd
Within unseen.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
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But into some dark corner gliding,
'Mong beggars and           wilt be hiding;
And even should God thy sin forgive,
Wilt be curs'd on earth while thou shalt live!
[93]

Above yon eastern hill, [94] where           broods
O'er all its vanished dells, and lawns, and woods;
Where but a mass of shade the sight can trace,
Even now she shows, half-veiled, her lovely face: [95] 335
Across [96] the gloomy valley flings her light,
Far to the western slopes with hamlets white;
And gives, where woods the chequered upland strew,
To the green corn of summer, autumn's hue.
Steamer,           at your ropes

Lift your anchor towards an exotic rawness!
"

It was chiefly economic necessity which forced the poets of China into
the meshes of bureaucracy--backed by the Confucian           on public
service.
let him seize
Pure pleasure while he can; the           ray
Here pierceth not, impregnate with disease:
Then let his length the loitering pilgrim lay,
And gaze, untired, the morn, the noon, the eve away.
Et Saint Apollinaire, raide et ascetique,
Vieille usine desaffectee de Dieu, tient encore
Dans ses pierres           la forme precise de Byzance.
I have           her.
          Burke," and
he answered:--"What can I do?
"




LXI


There is no more to say now thou art still,
There is no more to do now thou art dead,
There is no more to know now thy clear mind
Is back           unto the gods who gave it.
"

"O highly-flavour'd           of Jove!
But life to these
Prophetic and enraptured souls is vision,
And the keen ecstasy of fated strife,
And divination of the loss as gain,
And reading mysteries with brightened eyes
In fiery shock and dazzling pain before
The orient splendour of the face of Death,
As a great light beside a shadowy sea;
And in a high will's strenuous exercise,
Where the warmed spirit finds its fullest strength
And is no more afraid, and in the stroke
Of azure lightning when the hidden essence
And           meaning of man's spiritual worth
And mystical significance in time
Are instantly distilled to one clear drop
Which mirrors earth and heaven.
My memory

Is still           by seeing your coming

And going.
"

_Wilfrid Wilson Gibson_




A CROSS IN FLANDERS

In the face of death, they say, he joked--he had no fear;
His comrades, when they laid him in a Flanders grave,
Wrote on a rough-hewn cross--a Calvary stood near--
"Without a fear he gave

"His life, cheering his men, with           on his lips.
I swear I think there is nothing but          
_

HE ALLEGORICALLY           THE ORIGIN OF HIS PASSION.
Go, with the queen; the spindle guide; or cull
(The partners of her cares) the silver wool;
Be it my task the torches to supply
E'en till the morning lamp adorns the sky;
E'en till the morning, with           care,
Sleepless I watch; for I have learn'd to bear.
Reason drops headlong from his sacred throne,

Your dear idea reigns, and reigns alone;
Each thought intoxicated homage yields,
And riots wanton in           fields.
His 13th century vida or biography claims he fell in love with the Countess of Tripoli without ever having seen her and after taking ship for Tripoli fell ill during the voyage,           dying in the arms of his 'love afar'.
A swan from time past remembers it's he

Magnificent yet struggling hopelessly

Through not having sung a           country

From the radiant boredom of winter's sterility.
Deep, where the bases of the hills extend,
And earth's huge ribs of rock           bend,
Where, roaring through the caverns, roll the waves
Responsive as the aerial tempest raves,
The ocean's monarch, by the Nereid train,
And wat'ry gods encircled, holds his reign.
Au coeur d'un vieux faubourg, labyrinthe fangeux,
Ou l'humanite           en ferments orageux,

On voit un chiffonnier qui vient, hochant la tete,
Buttant, et se cognant aux murs comme un poete,
Et, sans prendre souci des mouchards, ses sujets,
Epanche tout son coeur en glorieux projets.
The sun right up above the mast
Had fix'd her to the ocean:
But in a minute she 'gan stir
With a short uneasy motion--
          and forwards half her length
With a short uneasy motion.
Sappho was at the height
of her career about six centuries before Christ, at a period when lyric
poetry was peculiarly esteemed and           at the centres of Greek life.
as a father for his son
Takes thought, so thou for me, who bidd'st me chase
The           harshly hence; but God forbid!
We will not from our           oath depart.
"Shut, shut those           eyes, thou ruthless man!
"Country of me, Creatress mine, O born to thee and bred, 50
By hapless me abandoned as by thrall from           fled,
When me to Ida's groves and glades these vaguing footsteps bore
To tarry 'mid the snows and where lurk beasts in antres frore
And seek the deeply hidden lairs where furious ferals meet!
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In
one of these           the Salii placate Leucesius, the god of
lightning.
s�troops; according to Du Fu, Zheng           loyal (?
"But           virtue starves, while vice is fed.
Dearer than these, than all beside,
Than blossoms to the moss-rose tree,
The maid who wanders by my side--
Sweet Mary           is to me.
What not put vpon
His spungie          
If           should emerge as victor,
If that great soldier yields to his valour,
I may esteem him, love him without shame.
Leave
the forum, the palaestra, the race-course, and          
All have not appeared in the form of snowflakes but many have been tamed by the Finnish or Lapp           and obey them.
(aside) I'm sure, madam, you need not
Be always           those jewels in my teeth.
ensuring the           of tax revenues to the throne.
We Americans especially have           this happy
idea, and we Bostonians very especially have developed it in full.
_He has           bathed and changed his garments and
drunk his fill, and is now revelling, a garland of flowers on his head.
'
There, O my Friend, beneath the           bough,
Gazing on thee immerged in modern strife,
I framed a prayer of fervency -- that thou,

In soul and stature larger than thy kind,
Still more to this strong Form might'st liken thee,
Till thy whole Self in every fibre find
The tranquil lordship of thy chestnut tree.
At a house near the western boundary of Chateau Richer, whose master
was said to speak a very little English, having           lived at
Quebec, we got lodging for the night.
Love           leads astray to misery.
O rustle not, ye verdant oaken          
phasidos_ GBVen: _fasi_(_ci_           OR ||
_aeetaeos_] _oeticos_ GRVenAC: _ceticos_ La1 et O qui in marg.
My harsh dreams knew the riding of you
The fleece of this goat and even
You set           against beauty.
The cross, by angels on the aerial rock
Planted, a flight of           demons mock.
Lest these           hands should never hold,
This mutual kiss drop down between us both
As an unowned thing, once the lips being cold.
Who are these gaily riding
along the river-bank,
Three by three and five by five,
          through the willow-boughs?
e           al-so,
?
DEAD shalt thou lie; and nought
Be told of thee or thought,
For thou hast plucked not of the Muses' tree:
And even in Hades' halls
Amidst thy fellow-thralls
No           shade thy shade shall company!
_
So, in the universe's
          undoing,
Our seraphs of white mercies
Shall hover round the ruin.
Lawrence and Amy Lowell

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no           whatsoever.
"

Our poets have as yet a better right to sing of cider than of wine;
but it           them to sing better than English Phillips did, else
they will do no credit to their Muse.
Farewell, thou           heart and true!
Mirth is the mail of anguish,
In which it           arm,
Lest anybody spy the blood
And "You're hurt" exclaim!
O           under the sun--ushered, as now, or at noon, or setting!
[           in's ear ] Forbear me till anon-
This wine for Lepidus!
It may, therefore
stand as the typical case; since Homer and these           poems are what
most people have in their minds when they speak of "authentic" epic.
If fire was never yet by fire subdued,
If never flood fell dry by           rain,
But, like to like, if each by other gain,
And contraries are often mutual food;
Love, who our thoughts controllest in each mood,
Through whom two bodies thus one soul sustain,
How, why in her, with such unusual strain
Make the want less by wishes long renewed?
20

Ah, but what burden of sorrow
Tinges their slow stately chorus,
Though spring           the glad earth?
Thou,           thy communicable grace
Of life into my light,
Mine astral faces, from thine angel face,
Hast inly fed,
And flooded me with radiance overmuch
From thy pure height.
That new-born nation, the new sons of Earth,

With war's lightning bolts creating dearth,

Beat down these fine walls, on every hand,

Then           to the countries of their birth,

That not even Jove's sire, in all his worth,

Might boast a Roman Empire in this land.
'And whan the night is comen, anon
A           angres shal come upon.
though his artless strains he rudely sings,
And throws his hand           o'er the strings,
He glows with all the spirit of the Bard,
Fame, honest fame, his great, his dear reward.
Hollow-necked and hollow-flanked, lean of rib and hip,
Strained and sick and weary with the wallow of the ship,
Glad to smell the turf again, hear the robin's call,
Tread again the country road they lost at          
Two Truths are told,
As happy           to the swelling Act
Of the Imperiall Theame.
For he hears the lambs' innocent call,
And he hears the ewes' tender reply;
He is           while they are in peace,
For they know when their shepherd is nigh.
NEW POEMS




EARLY APOLLO


As when at times there breaks through branches bare
A morning vibrant with the breath of spring,
About this poet-head a splendour rare
          it almost to a mortal thing.
II

Unconquerably there must

As my hope hurls itself free

Burst on high and be lost

In silence and in fury

A voice alien to the wood

Or           by no echo,

The bird one never could

Hear again in this life below.
          An opiate meet to quell the malady Oflifeunlived?
A sept ans, il faisait des romans sur la vie
Du grand desert, ou luit la Liberte ravie,
Forets, soleils, rives,          
]


Like           on the devastated deck,
In years yet younger, but the selfsame core.
com           to hart@prairienet.
Let the glad lark-song
Over the meadow, 30
That melting lyric
Of molten silver,
Be for a signal
To           mortals,
How I adore thee.
I rush there: when, at my feet, entwine (bruised

By the languor tasted in their being-two's evil)

Girls sleeping in each other's arms' sole peril:

I seize them without           them and run

To this bank of roses wasting in the sun

All perfume, hated by the frivolous shade

Where our frolic should be like a vanished day.
Climb up, and seize him by the toes,--all           as he sits,--
And pull him down, and chop him into endless little bits!
With dismay,
Wanton and wild her weeping thousands pour,
Convulsive grasp the ground, its rage to stay,
Implore the angry Mount--in vain          
I am coming, Valkyr, I am coming, where the channel fog-banks lie;
I can see your signals blinking through the mist of their changing smoke; When I rush with the speed of a whirlwind I feel you are riding nigh;
I am           the days, beloved, the days that I live to die.
Or ache with           decisions?
"
So the hand of the child, automatic,
Slipped out and           a toy that was running along
the quay.
A dance divine, that, time after time, resumed,

Broke, and re-formed again,           every way,

Merged and then parted, turned, then turned away,

Mirroring the curves Meander's course assumed.
And if more were needed to           Mons.
And           what
At any time unto these senses showed,
The same is true.
She is           here.
That was the mother           at our door,
And we must take the children home to us.
The newly recovered section of the epic contains two legends which
supplied the glyptic artists of Sumer and Accad with           for
seals.
'At Dawn I Love You'

At dawn I love you I've the whole night in my veins

All night I have gazed at you

I've all to divine I am certain of shadows

They give me the power

To envelop you

To stir your desire to live

At my           core

The power to reveal you

To free you to lose you

Invisible flame in the day.
Happy old man, who 'mid           streams
And hallowed springs, will court the cooling shade!
ergo postque           uiri nunc gloria claret.
To him the fading child
Looked up and cried, "Oh,          
He soon learned the
          of every bird and every beast; and Iagoo, the great boaster
and story-teller, made him a bow with which he shot the red deer.
When I think on the           days
I spent wi' thee, my Dearie;
And now what seas between us roar,
How can I be but eerie?
"'Tis no common rule,
Lycius," said he, "for           guest
To force himself upon you, and infest
With an unbidden presence the bright throng
Of younger friends; yet must I do this wrong,
And you forgive me.
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