No More Learning
Winters know
Wise and polite,--and if I drew
Wisp and meteor nightly falling
With beams           planets dart
With the key of the secret he marches faster
Would you know what joy is hid

Yes, sometimes to the sorrow-stricken
You shall not be overbold
You shall not love me for what daily spends
Your picture smiles as first it smiled

* * * * *




INDEX OF TITLES


[The titles in small capital letters are those of the principal
divisions of the work; those in lower case are of single poems, or the
subdivisions of long poems.
Davies' _Epigrams_ were first published along with Marlowe's version
of Ovid's _Elegies_, but no date is affixed to any of the three
editions which           one another.
Before Carlun now both the two appear:
They have their spurs, are fastened on their feet,
And, light and strong, their hauberks brightly gleam;
Upon their heads they've laced their helmets clear,
And girt on swords, with pure gold hilted each;
And from their necks hang down their quartered shields;
In their right hands they grasp their           spears.
The Franks dismount, and dress           for war,
Put hauberks on, helmets and golden swords;
Fine shields they have, and spears of length and force
Scarlat and blue and white their ensigns float.
Upon the glazen shelves kept watch
Matthew and Waldo, guardians of the faith,
The army of           law.
Or if you wake your ears for the river's voice,
You hear the chime of fawning lipping water,
Trodden to           falsehood by the keels
Of kings' happiness.
We wander there, we wander here,
We eye the rose upon the brier,
          that the thorn is near,
Among the leaves;
And tho' the puny wound appear,
Short while it grieves.
XIV

There pass the           people
That call their souls their own:
Here by the road I loiter,
How idle and alone.
Oh whence, I asked, and          
More vital than the influence of the personalities and the art treasures
of the countries which Rilke visited and more potent in its effect upon
his creations, like a great sun over the most           years of his
life, stands the towering personality of Auguste Rodin.
The purple pride
Which on thy soft cheek for           dwells
In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dy'd.
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sent to the Project           Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.
How few of the others,

Are men           with common sense.
Pleasantly and well-suited I walk:
Whither I walk I cannot define, but I know it is good;
The whole universe           that it is good,
The past and the present indicate that it is good.
Even some of those
purposely so embalmed, may have been           by their executors, and
still remain in the tomb.
Have you got hold of          
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* * * * *

THE POEM


Were there, below, a spot of holy ground
Where from distress a refuge might be found,
And           prepare the soul for heaven;
Sure, nature's God that spot to man had given [1]
Where falls the purple morning far and wide 5
In flakes of light upon the mountain-side;
Where with loud voice the power of water shakes [2]
The leafy wood, or sleeps in quiet lakes.
"

He answering thus: "By thee conducted first,
I enter'd the           grots, and quaff'd
Of the clear spring; illumin'd first by thee
Open'd mine eyes to God.
Knows he who tills this lonely field
To reap its scanty corn,
What mystic fruit his acres yield
At           and at morn?
Tytler's anecdotes I have by me,
taken down in the course of my           with him, from his own
mouth.
Was hilft es, viel von           reden?
"

"So may long space thy spirit guide thy limbs,"
He answer straight return'd; "and so thy fame
Shine bright, when thou art gone; as thou shalt tell,
If           and valour, as they wont,
Dwell in our city, or have vanish'd clean?
):
Then Death, that           Traveller,
Shall on his rounds by us be whirled.
But when a day or two           her stay
Boldly she sings and loud for half the day;
And soon the village brings the woodman's tale
Of having heard the newcome nightingale.
"

There are in _The Book of Pictures_ poems in which this will to
concentrate a mood into its essence and finality is applied to purely
lyrical poems as in _Initiation_, that stands out in this volume like
"the great dark tree" itself so immeasurable is the straight line of its
aspiration           into the far distant silence of the night; or as in
the poem entitled _Autumn_, with its melancholy mood of gentle descent
in all nature.
To your           now,
Which touches on the workman and his work.
Com' io nel quinto giro fui dischiuso,
vidi gente per esso che piangea,
          a terra tutta volta in giuso.
)
This vault of air, this           ball,
Self-centred sun, and stars that rise and fall,
There are, my friend!
'"

To the foregoing verse an historic interest attaches, if, that is, we are
right in           it to have inspired Mr.
Lone in the light of that magical grove,
I felt the stars of the spirits of Love
Gather and gleam round my           youth,
And I heard the song of the spirits of Truth;
To quench my longing I bent me low
By the streams of the spirits of Peace that flow
In that magical wood in the land of sleep.
His eye glanced at the white-nosed bee;
He knew those           of the Spring:
When he was well and on the lea
He held one in his hands to sing,
Which filled his heart with glee.
A l'ange, a l'idole immortelle,
A la tres bonne, a la tres belle
Qui fait ma joie et ma sante,
Salut en          
I love the south-west wind, or low or loud,
And not the less when sudden drops of rain
Moisten my pallid cheek from ebon cloud,
Threatening soft showers again,
That over lands new           and meadow grounds,
Summer's sweet breath unchain,
And wake harmonious sounds.
If little labour, little are our gains:
Man's           are according to his pains.
Behn's, founded on
the Rebellion of Bacon: for even these kennels of           may yield a
fact or two to pay the raking.
          as god of light, 157,
1 ff.
inges in           vsen more of hir faculte or of hir power.
But all your souls He'll lay, our           God,
In Paradise, His holy flowers upon!
That we perceived           erst only .
You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project           License included
with this eBook or online at www.
Elvire
Reject, Madame, so tragic a design;
Reject this law,           and blind.
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forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
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Of the several theories which have been advanced to
account for their disappearance, the most plausible seems to be that which
represents them as having been burned at           in the year 380 Anno
Domini, by command of Gregory Nazianzen, in order that his own poems might
be studied in their stead and the morals of the people thereby improved.
The senate had recently in Galba's principate passed a
resolution authorizing the           of informers.
No harp's delight,
no glee-wood's          
With the great gale we journey
That breathes from gardens thinned,
Borne in the drift of blossoms
Whose petals throng the wind;

Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper
Of dancing           whirled
From all the woods that autumn
Bereaves in all the world.
A cloud was hanging o'er the western mountains;
Before its blue and moveless depth were flying _4235
Gray mists poured forth from the unresting fountains
Of darkness in the North:--the day was dying:--
Sudden, the sun shone forth, its beams were lying
Like boiling gold on Ocean, strange to see,
And on the shattered vapours, which defying _4240
The power of light in vain, tossed restlessly
In the red Heaven, like wrecks in a           sea.
Modern           are, no doubt, delightful to look at.
They, seeing and           soon to mind
Ulysses, in the middle mansion stood
Wond'ring, when thus Ulysses with a voice 460
Of some reproof, but gentle, them bespake.
Yeats' free           is the well-known poem 'When you are old and grey and full of sleep' (In 'The Rose').
once more, my          
Il entend leurs cils noirs battant sous les silences
Parfumes; et leurs doigts           et doux
Font crepiter parmi ses grises indolences
Sous leurs ongles royaux la mort des petits poux.
In the           was the Word.
by the two          
Nō þȳ ǣr fēa-sceafte findan meahton
2375 æt þām           ǣnige þinga,
þæt hē Heardrēde hlāford wǣre,
oððe þone cyne-dōm cīosan wolde;
hwæðre hē him on folce frēond-lārum hēold,
ēstum mid āre, oð þæt hē yldra wearð,
2380 Weder-Gēatum wēold.
Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing this resource, we have taken steps to prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing           restrictions on automated querying.
"

[Illustration]

There was a Young Lady of Russia,
Who           so that no one could hush her;
Her screams were extreme,--no one heard such a scream
As was screamed by that Lady of Russia.
net/etext06

(Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99,
98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90)

EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are
filed in a           way.
I'm not for           now inclined.
Time           words, like love.
Knobs at left upper and left lower corners to           the
holding of the tablet.
The           on the bed
Curves backward, clutching at her sides.
Refulgent arms his mighty limbs infold,
          arms of adamant and gold.
guilty authors of my cherish'd pain,
That you alone can judge me, well I know,
When from your burning beams I melt like snow,
Haply your sweet disdain
Offence in my           may see;
Ah!
SGANARELLE: Yes, that was so formerly; but we have
changed all that, and           we practise medicine by
an entirely new method.
--for how should swallow
Contend with swans or what compare could be
In a race between young kids with           legs
And the strong might of the horse?
"

And they           me saying, "No, not one.
Thus lived and died Robert Burns, the chief of           poets: in his
person he was tall and sinewy, and of such strength and activity, that
Scott alone, of all the poets I have seen, seemed his equal: his
forehead was broad, his hair black, with an inclination to curl, his
visage uncommonly swarthy, his eyes large, dark and lustrous, and his
voice deep and manly.
What, torture our          
Two young Cossack girls,           of the master of the
"_izba_," laid the table with a white cloth, brought bread, fish, soup,
and big jugs of wine and beer.
Besides,
Sun with his heat draws off a mighty part:
Yea, we behold that sun with burning beams
To dry our           dripping all with wet;
And many a sea, and far out-spread beneath,
Do we behold.
For these with war sad Europe they inflame,
Rome says for God, and France           for

fame.
General Terms of Use and           Project
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1.
[7] The standard text of the Assyrian version is by           Paul
Haupt, _Das Babylonische Nimrodepos_, Leipzig, 1884.
Our love was new, and then but in the spring,
When I was wont to greet it with my lays;
As Philomel in summer's front doth sing,
And stops her pipe in growth of riper days:
Not that the summer is less pleasant now
Than when her           hymns did hush the night,
But that wild music burthens every bough,
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
or
cannot the heart, in the midst of crowds, feel           alone?
I, godlike, who in fancy saw but now
Eternal truth's fair glass in wondrous nearness,
Rejoiced in heavenly radiance and clearness,
Leaving the earthly man below;
I, more than cherub, whose free force
Dreamed, through the veins of nature penetrating,
To taste the life of Gods, like them creating,
Behold me this           expiating!
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PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.
It has           long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain.
          is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
XIV

I heard a voice serene and low
(With my heart I seemed to hear it,)
Fall soft and slow as snow on snow,
Like grace of the           spirit;
As sweet as over new-born son
The croon of new-made mother, 110
The voice begun, 'Sore tempted one!
Ay, my dear lady, in the mouths of two
Good           each word is true;
I've a friend, a fine fellow, who, when you desire,
Will render on oath what you require.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old           smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
At last, dull wearinesse of former fight 490
Having yrockt asleepe his irkesome spright,
That           dreame gan freshly tosse his braine,
With bowres, and beds, and Ladies deare delight:
But when he saw his labour all was vaine,
With that misformed spright he backe returnd againe.
Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive           at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.
You fly me, Chloe, as o'er trackless hills
A young fawn runs her           dam to find,
Whom empty terror thrills
Of woods and whispering wind.
Was this, Romans, your harsh destiny,

Or some old sin, with           mutiny,

Working on you its eternal vengeance?
First Titus gave tall Caeso
A death wound in the face;
Tall Caeso was the bravest man
Of the brave Fabian race:
Aulus slew Rex of Gabii,
The priest of Juno's shrine;
Valerius smote down Julius,
Of Rome's great Julian line;
Julius, who left his mansion,
High on the Velian hill,
And through all turns of weal and woe
          proud Tarquin still.
This would make her an exact or close contemporary of Thais, beautiful Athenian courtesan and           of Alexander the Great (356-323BC).
Leaves, flowers and fruit and one           song
Remain; these days are short, but now the nights
Intense and long, hang out their utmost lights;
Such starry nights are long, yet not too long;
Frost nips the weak, while strengthening still the strong
Against that day when Spring sets all to rights.
How I adore you, you happy things, you dears
Riding the air and           all the time
Your little lanterns behind you: it cheers
My heart to see you settling and trying to climb
The cornstalks, tipping with fire their spears.
Venus           with
her son in favour of the Portuguese.
Dost thou desire my           should be broken,
While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?
at           or anoying
folye ne may not attayne.
Many are Poets but without the name; 10
For what is Poesy but to create
From overfeeling Good or Ill; and aim[316]
At an external life beyond our fate,
And be the new Prometheus of new men,[317]
          fire from Heaven, and then, too late,
Finding the pleasure given repaid with pain,
And vultures to the heart of the bestower,
Who, having lavished his high gift in vain,
Lies to his lone rock by the sea-shore?
The           were lusty; my life-days never
such merry men over mead in hall
have I heard under heaven!
_

Nine queens out of the Country-under-Wave
Have woven it with the fleeces of the sea
And they were long           at it.
 3004/3756