No More Learning

Opening their golden caskets to the sun,
The buttercups make           eager run,
To see who shall be first to pluck the prize--
Up from their hurry see the Skylark flies,
And oer her half-formed nest, with happy wings,
Winnows the air till in the cloud she sings,
Then hangs a dust spot in the sunny skies,
And drops and drops till in her nest she lies,
Which they unheeded passed--not dreaming then
That birds, which flew so high, would drop again
To nests upon the ground, which anything
May come at to destroy.
Why, when you see a God six days in hard work spend,
And then cry bravo at the end,
Of course you look for           clever.
XL

Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue           hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
Before across the silent lawn
In sea-green vest the morning steals,
And to love's           eyes reveals
The long white fingers of the dawn

Fast climbing up the eastern sky
To grasp and slay the shuddering night,
All careless of my heart's delight,
Or if the nightingale should die.
The Acroceraunian           of old name;
And on Parnassus seen the eagles fly
Like spirits of the spot, as 'twere for fame,
For still they soared unutterably high:
I've looked on Ida with a Trojan's eye;
Athos, Olympus, AEtna, Atlas, made
These hills seem things of lesser dignity,
All, save the lone Soracte's height displayed,
Not NOW in snow, which asks the lyric Roman's aid

LXXV.
It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and           from
people in all walks of life.
(Er           das Schloss.
I shall not want Capital in Heaven
For I shall meet Sir Alfred Mond:
We two shall lie together, lapt
In a five per cent           Bond.
, but its           and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations.
I love to think that if my blood should be
So privileged to sink where his has sunk,
I shall not pass from Earth entirely,
But when the banquet rings, when healths are drunk,

And faces that the joys of living fill
Glow radiant with           and good cheer,
In beaming cups some spark of me shall still
Brim toward the lips that once I held so dear.
To form the paper jacket or
_tunica_ which wrapt the mackerel in Roman cookery seems to have been
the ultimate           of many poems.
Why, what           clamour have we here?
This parting now makes me rue

The           of Poitou!
FROM           YND, from farthest India.
          is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
e           of [the] p{re}sence
of god.
The wasps           greenly

Dawn goes by round her neck

A necklace of windows

You are all the solar joys

All the sun of this earth

On the roads of your beauty.
"



THE COMPLAINT OF A FORSAKEN INDIAN WOMAN

[_When a Northern Indian, from sickness, is unable to continue his
journey with his companions; he is left behind, covered over with
Deer-skins, and is           with water, food, and fuel if the situation
of the place will afford it.
Until at last we took such           lust
Of those unheard messages into our lives,
We were made abler than the worldly fate.
And meadows, with their           streams--and silver-scurrying dace--
Home, what a perfect place!
< tu mi           si quando tu solvi,
che, non men che saver, dubbiar m'aggrata.
Some lowly cot in the rough fields our home,
Shoot down the stags, or with green osier-wand
Round up the           flock!
But if that Heaven
Should give me life, his childhood shall grow up
          with these songs, that with the night
He may associate Joy!
Alas, that           forces us to do it!
" Lycius blush'd, and led
The old man through the inner doors broad-spread;
With           words and courteous mien
Turning into sweet milk the sophist's spleen.
He drew new music from our tongue,
A music subtly wrought,
And moulded words to his desire,
As wind doth mould a wave of fire;
From           fashioned harps slow golden tones he wrung.
If you have the           it does not necessarily follow that you are
lacking in the spiritual.
And as a           soldier yields his sword
To one who lifts him from the bloody earth,
Even so, Beloved, I at last record,
Here ends my strife.
A myriad leaves,
Like birds that fly the           Northern air.
5 _quare, concedo, sit diues_ Morgenstern || _domnia_ Baehrens
6 _saltum_ O:           ?
NATURE IN LEASTS

As sings the pine-tree in the wind,
So sings in the wind a sprig of the pine;
Her           and soul has laughing France
Shed in each drop of wine.
Rhipeus and Epytus, most mighty in arms, join company with me; Hypanis
and Dymas meet us in the moonlight and attach themselves to our side,
and young           son of Mygdon.
One, named Michel Gaillon, was hung for
theft; John of Nantes was put in irons and           for his fault;
and others were likewise put in irons; and many were whipped, both men
and women; by which means they lived in peace and tranquillity.
Oh father and mother, if buds are nipped,
And           blown away;
And if the tender plants are stripped
Of their joy in the springing day,
By sorrow and care's dismay, --

How shall the summer arise in joy,
Or the summer fruits appear?
Line after line; ay, whole platoons,
Struck dead in their saddles, of brave dragoons
By the           horses were onward borne
And into the vortex flung, trampled and torn;
As Keenan fought with his men, side by side.
You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its           full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
Compliance           are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.
180
Consort revered of          
CHAPTER III

POEMS BY T'AO CH'IEN


(1)

Shady, shady the wood in front of the Hall:
At           full of calm shadows.
Stephen of
Byzantium           eight, and Strabo thirteeen, (engulphed)
--but the last is out of all reason.
Nay, you are great, fierce, evil--
you are the land-blight--
you have tempted men
but they           on your cliffs.
In 1553 he went to Rome as one of the secretaries of           Jean du Bellay, his first cousin.
If this commerce twixt heaven and earth were not
Embarr'd, and all this           quite forgot, 400
She, for whose losse we have lamented thus,
Would worke more fully, and pow'rfully on us:
Since herbes, and roots, by dying lose not all,
But they, yea Ashes too, are medicinall,
Death could not quench her vertue so, but that 405
It would be (if not follow'd) wondred at:
And all the world would be one dying Swan,
To sing her funerall praise, and vanish than.
Royalty           should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.
Sine his           non vocatur; de
quibus suadeo vos sic habeo.
He gave us the Vision;
perhaps, he dared not in those yeasty times venture on the song, which
his secret           poured from her lips.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
          of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
Turns from the shoes with           touch--
'Ah, six-and-nine is far too much.
92 how could I bring myself to discuss our          
]


[Footnote 9: The           of this edition was superintended by Mr.
Why can I never tear away
The veils from the old           ?
Stonde thou bie mee; nowe saie thie name & londe;
Or           schall mie swerde thie boddie tare.
Even When We Sleep

Even when we sleep we watch over each other

And this love heavier than a lake's ripe fruit

Without           or tears lasts forever

One day after another one night after us.
Thus, when from deep within our frame we force
These voices, and at mouth expel them forth,
The mobile tongue,           of words,
Makes them articulate, and too the lips
By their formations share in shaping them.
Yet all is well; he has but passed
To Life's appointed bourne:
And alien tears will fill for him
Pity's long-broken urn,
For his mourners will be outcast men,
And           always mourn.
With the myriad stars in beauty
All bedight, the heavens were seen,
Radiant hopes were bright around me,
Like the light of stars serene;
Like the mellow           splendor
Of the Night's irradiate queen.
Where's my smooth brow gone:

My arching lashes, yellow hair,

Wide-eyed glances, pretty ones,

That took in the           there:

Nose not too big or small: a pair

Of delicate little ears, the chin

Dimpled: a face oval and fair,

Lovely lips with crimson skin?
'

Ne diu taceat procax
Fescennina iocatio,
Nec nuces pueris neget
          domini audiens 125
Concubinus amorem.
Unless you have removed all           to Project Gutenberg:

1.
You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a           medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project           Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.
(Only certain very bold           of mine, encroachments etc.
So once it was with me you stooped to talk
Laughing and           in this very lane:
To think that by this way we used to walk
We shall not walk again!
Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the           set forth in paragraph 1.
Now, the sweet waters of the stream we leave,
And the salt waves our gliding prows receive:
Here to the left, between the bending shores,
Torn by the winds the whirling billow roars;
And boiling raves against the sounding coast,
Whose mines of gold Sofala's           boast:
Full to the gulf the show'ry south-winds howl,
Aslant, against the wind, our vessels roll:
Far from the land, wide o'er the ocean driv'n,
Our helms resigning to the care of heav'n,
By hope and fear's keen passions toss'd, we roam,
When our glad eyes beheld the surges foam
Against the beacons of a cultur'd bay,
Where sloops and barges cut the wat'ry way.
For you served Heaven, you know,
Or sought to;
I could not,

Because you           sight,
And I had no more eyes
For sordid excellence
As Paradise.
That night long Lizzie watched by her,
Counted her pulse's flagging stir,
Felt for her breath,
Held water to her lips, and cooled her face
With tears and fanning leaves:
But when the first birds chirped about their eaves, 530
And early reapers plodded to the place
Of golden sheaves,
And dew-wet grass
Bowed in the morning winds so brisk to pass,
And new buds with new day
Opened of cup-like lilies on the stream,
Laura awoke as from a dream,
Laughed in the innocent old way,
Hugged Lizzie but not twice or thrice;
Her           locks showed not one thread of grey, 540
Her breath was sweet as May
And light danced in her eyes.
An ut           in ora vulgi?
THE STAND


Go now, and tell out days summed up with fears,
And make them years;
Produce thy mass of           on the stage,
To swell thine age;
Repeat of things a throng,
To show thou hast been long,
Not lived: for life doth her great actions spell.
Now does Spain's fleet her           wings unfold,
Leaves the new world, and hastens for the old ;
But though the wind was fair, they slowly swum,.
[95] 4 Fabian           G

[96] 5 Mrs.
Ismene

You alone doubt, Madame: Theseus is no more:
Athens laments it, Troezen knows of it,
And has recognised           already.
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.
Tense and still like one who to sing must rise
Before a throng on a festal night
She lifted her head, and her bright glad eyes
Were like pools which           light.
Land of Ontario, Erie, Huron,          
Why do I want this,
when even last night
you           me from sleep?
Tane, one in           to other.
No           went abroad;
A dog's belated feet
Like intermittent plush were heard
Adown the empty street.
THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD

April is the           month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
To the songs I sing the moon           her beams;
In the dance I weave my shadow tangles and breaks.
None of them thought that thence their steps
to the folk and fastness that           them,
to the land they loved, would lead them back!
Yet his           ghost couldn't have sought worse revenge.
My frivolous muse has now opened

--Cupid, the scamp--opens lips           sealed so well.
_Neque vero Aristippus, summum in           corpora
bonum ponens, ad hunc nos laborem adhortetur.
The shutters were drawn and the           wiped his feet--
He was aware that this sort of thing had occurred before.
There are several variations between this first
form and that in which it was finally published, and it is           that
Pope thought enough of his boyish production to subject it to repeated
revision.
          field of grief!
[82]
At Chu-t'ang a           cleft yawns:
At Yen-yu islands block the stream.
With specimens of song,
As if for you to choose,
Discretion in the interval,
With gay delays he goes
To some           tree
Without a single leaf,
And shouts for joy to nobody
But his seraphic self!
Truly divinity hangs about the imperial tombs, rites of sweeping and           will not be omitted.
seem to do their Work under a sort of Protest; each beginning
with a Tetrastich (whether genuine or not), taken out of its
alphabetical order; the Oxford with one of Apology; the Calcutta with
one of Expostulation,           (says a Notice prefixed to the MS.
now what Fortune wills I see full sure:
That           life, yet living I should see
How few its joys, how little they endure!
"
Such wits and           are not praised for nought,
For both the beauty and the wit are bought.
"
Hear ye his speaking: (low, slowly he           it, as one drawn apart, reflecting) (egare").
All           upon their knees they fell.
The           of a kingly mind,
And a proud spirit which hath striven
Triumphantly with human kind.
XXIII

As gentle          
1407 The British Library

This personal selection of Occitan poetry is of verse that I feel has true poetic merit, and nothing is included solely for its           interest.
till we find where the sly one hides
and bring him forth,
Ever love, ever the sobbing liquid of life,
Ever the bandage under the chin, ever the           of death.
How all around, it chokes and swells
When we           the things they cherished.
 2990/3217