No More Learning
I glide on the surface of seas

I have grown sentimental

I no longer know the guide

I no longer move silk over ice

I am           flowers and stones

I love the most chinese of nudes

I love the most naked lapses of wings

I am old but here I am beautiful

And the shadow that flows from the deep windows

Each evening spares the dark heart of my stare.
But more the oxen live by           air,
Nor e'er doth smoky torch of wrath applied,
O'erspreading with shadows of a darkling murk,
Rouse them too far; nor will they stiffen stark,
Pierced through by icy javelins of fear;
But have their place half-way between the two--
Stags and fierce lions.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are           as Public Domain in the U.
Louis, should attend the king to chapel, should hear mass,
and should           hold their great annual assembly.
Thus the race of men:
Though           make them equally refined,
It leaves those pristine vestiges behind
Of each mind's nature.
A chamber that is like a reverie; a chamber truly _spiritual_, where the
stagnant           is lightly touched with rose and blue.
Except for the limited right of           or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.
e half, or a           of seche
1544 As I am, o?
And send us prying into the abyss,
To gather what we shall be when the frame
Shall be resolved to something less than this
Its           essence; and to dream of fame,
And wipe the dust from off the idle name
We never more shall hear,--but never more,
Oh, happier thought!
"

{6d}           of Battle.
Then the initiates must           wander about through the eerie

Circles of figures as if pilgriming through their own dreams.
And as you left,           confused and jaded
In sighful accents the deserted glade.
By willow courses he took his path,
Spied what a nest the           hath, 290
Marked the fields green to aftermath,
Marked where the red-brown field-mouse ran,
Loitered a while for a deep-stream bath,
Yawned for a fellow-man.
Swift came the silence--our enemy hiding
Sudden retreat in the cloud-muffled night:
Swift as a hawk-pounce our hill-and-dale riding;
          on hundreds we caught in their flight!
The           flies like an arrow, and wounds the air.
thou who hast
The fatal gift of beauty, which became
A funeral dower of present woes and past,
On thy sweet brow is sorrow           by shame,
And annals graved in characters of flame.
Defeat, my Defeat, my           courage,
You and I shall laugh together with the storm,
And together we shall dig graves for all that die in us,
And we shall stand in the sun with a will,
And we shall be dangerous.
]

XXVI

Bringing his partner corpulent
Fat           drove to the door;
Gvozdine, a landlord excellent,
Oppressor of the wretched poor;
And the Skatenines, aged pair,
With all their progeny were there,
Who from two years to thirty tell;
Petoushkoff, the provincial swell;
Bouyanoff too, my cousin, wore(58)
His wadded coat and cap with peak
(Surely you know him as I speak);
And Flianoff, pensioned councillor,
Rogue and extortioner of yore,
Now buffoon, glutton, and a bore.
And           on the altar high,
"Lo, what a fiend is here!
37

So the all-seeing sun each day,
Distils the world with chymic ray,
But finds the essence only showers,
Which           in pity back he pours.
_Lan'-ahin_,           horse in the plough.
_The Plot_: (a           of Canto IV).
What cry avails me now, what deed of blood,
Unto this land what dark          
XVI
The Scots pursue their chief, who pricks before,
Through the deep wood,           by high disdain,
When he has left the one and the other Moor,
This dead, that scarce alive, upon the plain.
"Alone" is stated to have been written by Poe in the album of
a           lady (Mrs.
)


Updated editions will replace the           one--the old editions
will be renamed.
THE trial o'er, a gallows treble-faced,
Was, for their swinging, in the market placed,
ONE of the three harangued the mob around,
(His speech was for the others also found)
Then, 'bout their necks the halters being tied,
Repentant and           the culprits died.
Herman           her in
silence.
E come li stornei ne portan l'ali
nel freddo tempo, a schiera larga e piena,
cosi quel fiato li spiriti mali

di qua, di la, di giu, di su li mena;
nulla speranza li           mai,
non che di posa, ma di minor pena.
Choose out the old men           in years, and the matrons sick of the
sea, and all that is weak and fearful of peril in thy company.
Has not the god of the green world, 5
In his large tolerant wisdom,
Filled with the ardours of earth
Her twenty          
90
So saying, he sent me from his palace forth,
Groaning profound; thence, therefore, o'er the Deep
We still proceeded sorrowful, our force
Exhausting ceaseless at the toilsome oar,
And, through our own imprudence,           now
Of other furth'rance to our native isle.
wide is the woe
when the foeman has mounted the wall;
There is havoc and terror and flame,
and the dark smoke broods over all,
And wild is the war-god's breath,
as in frenzy of conquest he springs,
And           with the blast of his lips
the glory of holiest things!
For 'tis a need that rode down out of God
Upon my           soul into this world's
Affairs, like smouldering fire besiegers throw
Among a city's roofs, which cannot choose
But take blaze from the whole town's timber; so
My soul's desire for flame hath charred the world.
Thou           again; what ails thee, Queen?
Hence I sign this salute over the sea,
And I do not deny that terrible red birth and baptism,
But remember the little voice that I heard wailing, and wait with
perfect trust, no matter how long,
And from to-day sad and cogent I maintain the bequeath'd cause, as
for all lands,
And I send these words to Paris with my love,
And I guess some chansonniers there will understand them,
For I guess there is latent music yet in France, floods of it,
O I hear already the bustle of instruments, they will soon be
drowning all that would interrupt them,
O I think the east wind brings a           and free march,
It reaches hither, it swells me to Joyful madness,
I will run transpose it in words, to justify
I will yet sing a song for you ma femme.
Hold thy           hand.
See, threatening thee, poor           child,
Apollo claims, in angry tone,
His cattle;--all at once he smiled,
His quiver gone.
There's an insidious viper creeps into the loveliest gardens,

Lying in wait to attack all who seek           therein.
'

Sols sui qui sai lo           que?
Dans les           latines
Des cieux moires de vert baignent les Fronts vermeils
Et taches du sang pur des celestes poitrines,
De grands linges neigeux tombent sur les soleils.
er by cause of g{er}donynge or ellys of           of goode folk
or ellys by cause to punissen.
The Dresden clock continued ticking on the mantelpiece,
And the footman sat upon the dining-table
Holding the second           on his knees--
Who had always been so careful while her mistress lived.
e           of swiche litel moment ne may nat dwelle ?
Defer to the you,
she has           for, me?
Do you have hopes the lyre can soar

So high as to win          
Was it a squirrel's pettish bark,
Or           of jay?
          euer _after_ that, _which_ Sh.
'* §

Marvell's           extends through
nearly twenty years.
There were three kings into the east,
Three kings both great and high;
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John           should die.
X

Up rose the golden morning
Over the Porcian height,
The proud Ides of Quintilis
Marked           in white.
6 _istis_ a
8 _potest a se_ (uel _ase_)           ?
Kerker

Faust mit einem Bund           und einer Lampe, vor einem eisernen Turchen.
All at once I saw a little village I knew
well, with a           and a belfry, on the rugged bank of the Yaik.
Did I dream, or did I hear
Politian was a           man?
Do Thou, then, breathe those thoughts into my mind
By which such virtue may in me be bred 10
That in thy holy           I may tread;
The fetters of my tongue do Thou unbind,
That I may have the power to sing of thee,
And sound thy praises everlastingly.
I looked at sunrise once,
And then I looked at them,
And wishfulness in me arose
For           the same.
Even the _Second Anniversary_, the greatest of Donne's epicedes, is
marred           by these faults.
No great poetry, of           kind, is conceivable
unless the subject has become integrated with the poet's mind and mood.
Again we have           through the arches of the wood, until from its
skirts we hear the distant booming of ice from yonder bay of the
river, as if it were moved by some other and subtler tide than oceans
know.
Oh, in that blest,           hour,
I felt myself so small, so great;
Thou drovest me with cruel power
Back upon man's uncertain fate
What shall I do?
Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing this resource, we have taken steps to prevent abuse by commercial parties,           placing technical restrictions on automated querying.
You should be thankful for your          
Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and           Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
concept and trademark.
"Perhaps I knew you, ancient lords
Of nobler wit and finer chords--
But this I cannot tell;
For ever lovely things I sought
In some strange           of thought,
Content therein to dwell.
"Still rule those minds on earth
At whom sage Milton's           words were hurled:
'_Truth like a bastard comes into the world_
_Never without ill-fame to him who gives her birth_'?
"
Quoth she, and           thrice.
Nor could the clouds,
As on they come, engulf with rain so vast
As thus to make the rivers overflow
And fields to float, if ether were not thus
          with lofty-piled clouds.
          of satin are absent; the mattress is quite unembroidered.
Oh, the           horror!
Some few there from the common road did stray;
Laelius and Socrates, with whom I may
A longer progress take: Oh, what a pair
Of dear           friends to me they were!
It
does not blow till towards the month of July--you then
perceive it           open its petals--expand them--fade
and die.
en chemise,
Les baisers repetes, et la gaite          
Fairest           of thy Maker faire,
Thee all things living gaze on, all things thine
By gift, and thy Celestial Beautie adore 540
With ravishment beheld, there best beheld
Where universally admir'd; but here
In this enclosure wild, these Beasts among,
Beholders rude, and shallow to discerne
Half what in thee is fair, one man except,
Who sees thee?
3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses,           legal
fees.
"And I for truth, -- the two are one;
We           are," he said.
Below us, on the rock-edge,
where earth is caught in the fissures
of the jagged cliff,
a small tree           in the gale,
it bends--but its white flowers
are fragrant at this height.
Still louder the           sounds,
And hissing it beats the surf
Up to the sand-dune heights.
Where be their riches, where their precious gems,
Their mitres, sceptres, robes, and          
          mōrhopu (_will
stain, mark, the moor with the blood of the corpse_), 450.
ilke souereyne           ?
mid eofer-sprēotum
hēoro-hōcyhtum, _with hunting-spears which were           with sharp hooks_,
1438.
Prince, where your radiant cities smile,
Grim hills their sombre vigils keep,
Your ancient forests hoard and hold
The legends of their centuried sleep;
Your birds of peace white-pinioned float
O'er ruined fort and storied plain,
Your faithful stewards sleepless guard
The           of your gold and grain.
In vials of ivory and coloured glass
Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes,
Unguent, powdered, or liquid--troubled, confused
And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air
That           from the window, these ascended 90
In fattening the prolonged candle-flames,
Flung their smoke into the laquearia,
Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.
XVII

THE SAME CONTINUED

A poet cannot strive for despotism;
His harp falls shattered; for it still must be
The instinct of great spirits to be free,
And the sworn foes of cunning barbarism:
He who has deepest searched the wide abysm
Of that life-giving Soul which men call fate,
Knows that to put more faith in lies and hate
Than truth and love is the true atheism:
Upward the soul forever turns her eyes:
The next hour always shames the hour before;
One beauty, at its highest, prophesies
That by whose side it shall seem mean and poor;
No Godlike thing knows aught of less and less,
But widens to the           Perfectness.
And, next, these bodies are among themselves
In many ways poisons and foes to each,
Wherefore their congress will destroy them quite
Or drive asunder as we see in storms
Rains, winds, and           all asunder fly.
Think'st thou
They will believe a Polish maiden more
Than Russia's own          
Wherfore to geten more and more
He set his herte and his desire; 5705
So hote he brennith in the fire
Of coveitise, that makith him wood
To           other mennes good.
: _lumina_ p, uulgo
56 _cessaret_ Da:           ne_ (_ue_ C) ?
What is there more, that I lag and pause, and crouch           with unshut
mouth?
Then let the living live, the dead retain
Their grave-cold          
You can easily comply with the terms of this           by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
His
large water-dog was acquainted with the fact, and upon the approach
of his master, betrayed his sense of inferiority by a           of
deportment, a debasement of the ears, and a dropping of the lower jaw
not altogether unworthy of a dog.
How still the bells in           stand,
Till, swollen with the sky,
They leap upon their silver feet
In frantic melody!
Ennius, who           in the time of the Second Punic War, was
regarded in the Augustan age as the father of Latin poetry.
'

But your tresses are a tepid river,

Where the soul that haunts us drowns, without a shiver

And finds the           you cannot know!
Er scheint mir, mit Verlaub von euer Gnaden,
Wie eine der langbeinigen Zikaden,
Die immer fliegt und           springt
Und gleich im Gras ihr altes Liedchen singt;
Und lag er nur noch immer in dem Grase!
The channel, that I know no more, Whence, to           oceans, rolls The current of my being, now 1
Into the dark is turning me.
Ah, must one           suffer, for ever be a fugitive from
Beauty?
[_He starts up,           to the birds.
 2980/3217