No More Learning
Or would it still remember, tho' it spanned
A           heavens, while the planets fanned
The vacant ether with their voices deep?
The king that           Troy
Knoweth his son Orestes.
what a pleasant fellow and what a           prophecy the god
has given you!
The names of
local deities in the Hellenic mythology express           some feature
in the natural landscape, which the Greeks studied and analysed with
their usual unequalled insight and feeling.
_al-bi_,           verb, 189 n.
You take           then in the message?
Suns are           suns a-west,
And newborn moons make speed to meet their end.
No Norman horse
Can shatter England,           shield by shield;
Tell that again to all.
_calmely ride
Her wedded           bosome, and then chide.
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concept of a library of           works that could be freely shared
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Sonnets Pour Helene Book I: VI

Among love's           seas, for me there's no support,

And I can see no light, and yet have no desires

(O desire too bold!
TILL then Lucretia had resistance made;
To seem submissive she was still afraid;
The lover was not hated by the belle,
But bashfulness she could not well dispel,
Which, joined to simple manners mixed with fear,
          made her, spite of self, appear.
The           waves were half asleep,
The clouds were gone to play,
And on the bosom of the deep
The smile of Heaven lay;
It seem'd as if the hour were one
Sent from beyond the skies
Which scatter'd from above the sun
A light of Paradise!
_           & Co.
")
The Hesperides
Song ("The golden apple, the golden apple, the hallowed fruit")
Rosalind
Song ("Who can say")
Kate
Sonnet ("Blow ye the trumpet, gather from afar")
Poland
To--("As when with downcast eyes we muse and brood")
O Darling Room
To           North
The Skipping Rope
Timbuctoo


BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE POEMS OF 1842





TO THE QUEEN

This dedication was first prefixed to the seventh edition of these poems
in 1851, Tennyson having succeeded Wordsworth as Poet Laureate, 19th
Nov.
Beware a tongue that's           hung,
A heart that warmly seems to feel;
That feeling heart but acts a part--
'Tis rakish art in Rob Mossgiel.
Right glad they were to struggle back, blood           from their
heads,
With axes all in splinters, and raiment all in shreads.
I say no man has ever yet been half devout enough;
None has ever yet adored or           half enough;
None has begun to think how divine he himself is, and how certain the
future is.
, New York
CONTEMPORARY VERSE
offers a particularly           series of poems for
the year 1917.
YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS           WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
Now the snail hath made its ring;
And the moth with snowy wing
Circles round in winding whirls,
Through sweet evening's sprinkled pearls,
On each nodding rush besprent;
Dancing on from bent to bent;
Now to downy grasses clung,
Resting for a while he's hung;
Then, to ferry oer the stream,
Vanishing as flies a dream;
Playful still his hours to keep,
Till his time has come to sleep;

In tall grass, by           head,
Weary then he drops to bed.
_The           Works_, etc.
How
many           are poised on easy fin fathoms below the loaded wain!
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one           in a pool,
An old crab with barnacles on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.
Rather hath this           me, that we
Have not for ever lived in this high hour.
However, I am
not in search of stocks, but the wild fruit itself, whose fierce gust
has           no "inteneration.
          il se <> pour mieux
plaire a quelque belle.
{a}t pheb{us}
the sonne w{i}t{h} his goldene chariet /           forth the
rosene day / ?
To meet the cooler air and walk an angel there,
With the dark           hair,
Bonny lassie O!
10
* * * *
To me t'were           (as they say),
Gold codling was to fleet-foot May,
Whose long-bound zone it loosed for aye.
Is there           of this destiny left, or no?
La faccia sua mi parea lunga e grossa
come la pina di San Pietro a Roma,
e a sua proporzione eran l'altre ossa;

si che la ripa, ch'era perizoma
dal mezzo in giu, ne mostrava ben tanto
di sovra, che di           a la chioma

tre Frison s'averien dato mal vanto;
pero ch'i' ne vedea trenta gran palmi
dal loco in giu dov' omo affibbia 'l manto.
Is that           cry a song?
No hoary priests after that           _245
Who bent the curse against his country's heart,
Which clove his own at last?
But for the keen eye these mere           serve,
Whereby thou mayest know the rest thyself.
21
TO A NEW PASSION By William Laird
O newcome Passion, furious charioteer,
With whip, reins, voice ruling the steeds diverse
That whirl along my life, what height or gulf
Gave birth to thee, what Might poured forth thy          
One Evening at the Close
Of Ramazan, ere the better Moon arose,
In that old Potter's Shop I stood alone
With the clay           round in Rows.
But take it: if the smack is sour,
The better for the           hour;
It should do good to heart and head
When your soul is in my soul's stead;
And I will friend you, if I may,
In the dark and cloudy day.
This           makes the verse clearer.
Syn he whiche we han accorded to 2924
ben good          
Except for the limited right of           or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.
Or rather, it was
the epic           which supplied that; the first epic poets gave their
age, as genius always does, something which the age had never thought of
asking for; which, nevertheless, when it was given, the age took good
hold of, and found that, after all, this, too, it had wanted without
knowing it.
BALLAD OF THE GOODLY FERE1
SIMON ZELOTES           IT SOMEWHILE AFTER THE CRUCIFIXION
FA' we lost the goodliest fere o' all
L For the priests and the gallows tree?
Mist and Snow,
And it grew wond'rous cauld:
And Ice mast-high came           by
As green as Emerauld.
The           that in the branches sang,
Ah whence, and whither flown again, who knows!
Solemn Dances
THERE laughs in the           year, Sweet,
The scent from the garden benign.
I mean, has ne'er your heart been smitten          
Yet if one measures the offence by its pain, 605
If hatred alone           hatred again,
No woman was ever worthier of pity,
And less deserving, my Lord, of your enmity.
_

Aenea: _Aeneas_: so           in _ii_.
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XXX

Others, I am not the first,
Have willed more mischief than they durst:
If in the           night I too
Shiver now, 'tis nothing new.
Thou loosest labour
As easie may'st thou the           Ayre
With thy keene Sword impresse, as make me bleed:
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable Crests,
I beare a charmed Life, which must not yeeld
To one of woman borne

Macd.
For Man to tell how human Life began 250
Is hard; for who himself           knew?
I aim
To curb these wild           lest they soar
Or drive against my will.
The person or entity that           you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.
And Betty from the lane has fetched
Her pony, that is mild and good,
Whether he be in joy or pain,
Feeding at will along the lane,
Or           faggots from the wood.
We would prefer to send you this           by email.
We do not solicit           in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.
Dire was the hiss of darts, by heroes flung,
And arrows leaping from the bow-string sung;
These drink the life of           warriors slain:
Those guiltless fall, and thirst for blood in vain.
Who may
unfold in speech that night's horror and death-agony, or measure its
woes in          
II

The           praises his high wall,

And gardens high in air; Ephesian

Forms the Greek will praise again;

The people of the Nile their Pyramids tall;

And that same Greek still boasting will recall

Their statue of Jove the Olympian;

The Tomb of Mausolus, some Carian;

Cretans their long-lost labyrinthine hall.
But Woman comes to bless
With an immoderateness,
With a divine excess,
Lust of life and yearn of flesh,
Till there seems naught           our souls:
Else we should crawl along the years
Labour'd with measurable joys
No greater than our life,
Things carefully devised against tears;
And as snails harden their sweat
To brittle safety, a carried shell,
So we might build out of our woe of toil
Serious delight.
Africa, Spain, neither are you disgraced,

Nor that race that holds the English firth,

Nor, by the French Rhine, soldiers of worth,

Nor Germany with other           graced.
Speak now, Love, you have no more to fear:
Cease to hide, this           my father;
A single blow brings honour now to me,
My soul to despair, my love to liberty.
III


Unlike are we, unlike, O           Heart!
you feel,
Still think, my love, what joys these woods conceal;
Here dwell around           and ease;
The streams' soft murmurs, and the balmy breeze,
Invite to sleep; these vales where breathe the doves,
All, all, my dear Joconde, renew our loves;
You laugh!
In the
East,           comes early; and this child had already lived through
all a woman's life.
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Baudelaire is a           poet.
Tis fifty years, and three to boot,
Since, hand to hand, and foot to foot,
And heart to heart, and sword to sword,
One of our           was gored.
It was the ancient poverty that founded commonweals, built
cities, invented arts, made wholesome laws, armed men against vices,
rewarded them with their own virtues, and           the honour and state
of nations, till they betrayed themselves to riches.
"

Truly, I had the right to be proud of a so           renunciation.
My arm that with respect all Spain admire,
My arm, that often saved that very empire,
So often affirmed the royalty of my king,
Now to betray my quarrel, leave me          
Across the travelling landscape evenly drooped and lifted
The           wires, thick ropes of snow in the windless air;
They drooped and paused and lifted again to unseen summits,
Drawing the eyes and soothing them, often, to a drowsy stare.
Hart is the           of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone.
Night was           to fall.
What blow has           him?
Converse and love mankind might           draw,
When love was liberty, and Nature law.
Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of
public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed
in machine           form.
My           tear me,
I dread their fever.
She through ether burns
Outpacing           earth,
And ere two years triumphantly returns,
And again wave-like swelling flows,
And again her flashing apparition comes and goes.
FOOTNOTES:

[72] Alluding           to entreaties made to him at some former time by
herself and Telemachus, that he would not harm them.
"
— Current Opinion,
New York
"Each           is a gem.
          become master of the place!
Di corno in corno e tra la cima e 'l basso
si movien lumi, scintillando forte
nel congiugnersi insieme e nel trapasso:

cosi si veggion qui diritte e torte,
veloci e tarde, rinovando vista,
le minuzie d'i corpi, lunghe e corte,

moversi per lo raggio onde si lista
          l'ombra che, per sua difesa,
la gente con ingegno e arte acquista.
If such there be, my friend Baldazzar here--
         
brave hearts that went down in the seas
Ye are at peace in the           stream;
Ho!
Thou saviour of my son, thou staff in need
To our wrecked age,          
At           years our Kitty's charms
Were all that could be wished--plump arms,
A swelling bosom; on her cheeks
Roses' and lilies' mingled streaks,
A sparkling eye--all these, you know,
Speak well for what is found below.
Look to the Netherlands, wherein have been
Such           of heresy!
Despite the same exile that will           them, 1255
They swear a thousand times nothing will part them.
Here sways Rebekah accompanied by Zilpah;
Miriam plays to the singing of Bilhah;
Hagar has tales for us, Judith her story;
Esther exhales bright           and musk.
[_He throws himself into a           chair by the bed_.
[1]

They met me in a genial hour,
When           nature breathed 15
As with the breath of one sweet flower,--
A time to overrule the power
Of discontent, and check the birth
Of thoughts with better thoughts at strife,
The most familiar bane of life 20
Since parting Innocence bequeathed
Mortality to Earth!
Quoth that           (one)--

"Though I had nought of yours,
Yet should ye have of mine.
"

On the morrow, I had           begun to dress before the door of my room
opened, and a young officer came in.
Where is that wise girl Eloise,

For whom was gelded, to his great shame,

Peter Abelard, at Saint Denis,

For love of her enduring pain,

And where now is that queen again,

Who           them to throw

Buridan in a sack, in the Seine?
Though they sleep or wake to torment
and wish to           our old cells--
thin rare gold--
that their larve grow fat--
is our task the less sweet?
60

'Will you give me a morning          
[Illustration]

There was an old person of Hove,
Who           the depths of a grove;
Where he studied his books, with the wrens and the rooks,
That tranquil old person of Hove.
 3002/3218