No More Learning
Most fruits which we
prize and use depend           on our care.
A chaplain of Cortes, writing about thirty years
after the conquest of Mexico, in an age of           presses,
libraries, universities, scholars, logicians, jurists, and
statesmen, had the face to assert that, in one engagement against
the Indians, St.
--tell me--tell me, I          
The maid announced the meal in tones
That I myself had taught her,
Meant to allay my sister's moans
Like oil on           water:
I rushed to Jones, the lively Jones,
And begged him to escort her.
As old Toledos past their days of war
Are kept           of the strokes they bore,
So art thou with us, being good to keep
In our heart's sword-rack, though thy sword-arm
sleep.
The music for this sestina           in manuscript.
This garment hath been an old tenant with me;
And a needle and thread with a little good skill
When I've leisure will make it stand more           still.
622 in the           library by F.
Barons of France may not           be
Whence comes the ensign "Monjoie," they cry at need;
Wherefore no race against them can succeed.
Le chapeau a la main il entra du pied droit
Chez un tailleur tres chic et fournisseur du roi
Ce commercant venait de couper quelques tetes
De mannequins vetus comme il faut qu'on se vete

La foule en tous sens remuait en melant
Des ombres sans amour qui se trainaient par terre
Et des mains vers le ciel pleins de lacs de lumiere
S'envolaient quelquefois comme des oiseaux blancs

Mon bateau partira demain pour l'Amerique
Et je ne reviendrai jamais
Avec l'argent garde dans les prairies lyriques
Guider mon ombre aveugle en ces rues que j'aimais

Car revenir c'est bon pour un soldat des Indes
Les boursiers ont vendu tous mes crachats d'or fin
Mais habille de neuf je veux dormir enfin
Sous des arbres pleins d'oiseaux muets et de singes

Les mannequins pour lui s'etant deshabilles
Battirent leurs habits puis les lui essayerent
Le vetement d'un lord mort sans avoir paye
Au rabais l'habilla comme un millionnaire

Au dehors les annees
Regardaient la vitrine
Les mannequins victimes
Et passaient enchainees

Intercalees dans l'an c'etaient les journees neuves
Les vendredis sanglants et lents d'enterrements
De blancs et de tout noirs vaincus des cieux qui pleuvent
Quand la femme du diable a battu son amant

Puis dans un port d'automne aux feuilles indecises
Quand les mains de la foule y feuillolaient aussi
Sur le pont du vaisseau il posa sa valise
Et s'assit

Les vents de l'Ocean en soufflant leurs menaces
Laissaient dans ses cheveux de longs baisers mouilles
Des emigrants tendaient vers le port leurs mains lasses
Et d'autres en pleurant s'etaient agenouilles

Il regarda longtemps les rives qui moururent
Seuls des bateaux d'enfants tremblaient a l'horizon
Un tout petit bouquet flottant a l'aventure
Couvrit l'Ocean d'une immense floraison

Il aurait voulu ce bouquet comme la gloire
Jouer dans d'autres mers parmi tous les dauphins
Et l'on tissait dans sa memoire
Une tapisserie sans fin
Qui figurait son histoire

Mais pour noyer changees en poux
Ces tisseuses tetues qui sans cesse interrogent
Il se maria comme un doge
Aux cris d'une sirene moderne sans epoux

Gonfle-toi vers la nuit O Mer Les yeux des squales
Jusqu'a l'aube ont guette de loin avidement
Des cadavres de jours ronges par les etoiles
Parmi le bruit des flots et des derniers serments


ROSEMONDE

A Andre Derain

Longtemps au pied du perron de
La maison ou entra la dame
Que j'avais suivie pendant deux
Bonnes heures a Amsterdam
Mes doigts jeterent des baisers

Mais le canal etait desert
Le quai aussi et nul ne vit
Comment mes baisers retrouverent
Celle a qui j'ai donne ma vie
Un jour pendant plus de deux heures

Je la surnommai Rosemonde
Voulant pouvoir me rappeler
Sa bouche fleurie en Hollande
Puis lentement je m'en allai
Pour queter la Rose du Monde


LE BRASIER

A Paul-Napoleon Roinard

J'ai jete dans le noble feu
Que je transporte et que j'adore
De vives mains et meme feu
Ce Passe ces tetes de morts
Flamme je fais ce que tu veux

Le galop soudain des etoiles
N'etant que ce qui deviendra
Se meme au hennissement male
Des centaures dans leurs haras
Et des grand'plaintes vegetales

Ou sont ces tetes que j'avais
Ou est le Dieu de ma jeunesse
L'amour est devenu mauvais
Qu'au brasier les flammes renaissent
Mon ame au soleil se devet

Dans la plaine ont pousse des flammes
Nos coeurs pendent aux citronniers
Les tetes coupees qui m'acclament
Et les astres qui ont saigne
Ne sont que des tetes de femmes

Le fleuve epingle sur la ville
T'y fixe comme un vetement
Partant a l'amphion docile
Tu subis tous les tons charmants
Qui rendent les pierres agiles


Je flambe dans le brasier

Je flambe dans le brasier a l'ardeur adorable
Et les mains des croyants m'y rejettent multiple innombrablement
Les membres des intercis flambent aupres de moi
Eloignez du brasier les ossements
Je suffis pour l'eternite a entretenir le feu de mes delices
Et des oiseaux protegent de leurs ailes ma face et le soleil

O Memoire Combien de races qui forlignent
Des Tyndarides aux viperes ardentes de mon bonheur
Et les           ne sont-ils que les cous des cygnes
Qui etaient immortels et n'etaient pas chanteurs
Voici ma vie renouvelee
De grands vaisseaux passent et repassent
Je trempe une fois encore mes mains dans l'Ocean

Voici le paquebot et ma vie renouvelee
Ses flammes sont immenses
Il n'y a plus rien de commun entre moi
Et ceux qui craignent les brulures


Descendant des hauteurs

Descendant des hauteurs ou pense la lumiere
Jardins rouant plus haut que tous les ciels mobiles
L'avenir masque flambe en traversant les cieux

Nous attendons ton bon plaisir o mon amie

J'ose a peine regarder la divine mascarade

Quand bleuira sur l'horizon la Desirade

Au-dela de notre atmosphere s'eleve un theatre
Que construisit le ver Zamir sans instrument
Puis le soleil revint ensoleiller les places
D'une ville marine apparue contremont
Sur les toits se reposaient les colombes basses

Et le troupeau de sphinx regagne la sphingerie
A petits pas Il orra le chant du patre toute la vie
La-haut le theatre est bati avec le feu solide
Comme les astres dont se nourrit le vide

Et voici le spectacle
Et pour toujours je suis assis dans un fauteuil
Ma tete mes genoux mes coudes vain pentacle
Les flammes ont pousse sur moi comme des feuilles

Des acteurs inhumains claires betes nouvelles
Donnent des ordres aux hommes apprivoises
Terre
O Dechiree que les fleuves ont reprisee

J'aimerais mieux nuit et jour dans les sphingeries
Vouloir savoir pour qu'enfin on m'y devorat


RHENANES




Nuit rhenane

Mon verre est plein d'un vin trembleur comme une flamme
Ecoutez la chanson lente d'un batelier
Qui raconte avoir vu sous la lune sept femmes
Tordre leurs cheveux verts et longs jusqu'a leurs pieds

Debout chantez plus haut en dansant une ronde
Que je n'entende plus le chant du batelier
Et mettez pres de moi toutes les filles blondes
Au regard immobile aux nattes repliees

Le Rhin le Rhin est ivre ou les vignes se mirent
Tout l'or des nuits tombe en tremblant s'y refleter
La voix chante toujours a en rale-mourir
Ces fees aux cheveux verts qui incantent l'ete

Mon verre s'est brise comme un eclat de rire


Mai

Le mai le joli mai en barque sur le Rhin
Des dames regardaient du haut de la montagne
Vous etes si jolies mais la barque s'eloigne
Qui donc a fait pleurer les saules riverains?
e           of ?
Not his the feaster's wine,
Nor land, nor gold, nor power,
By want and pain God           him
Till his elected hour.
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keeping this work in the same format with its           full Project
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Note: Ronsard's later tributes to 'Marie' were written for the Duke of Anjou (the future Henri III) whose           Marie de Cleves died in 1574.
The stray ships passing spied a face
Upon the waters borne,
With eyes in death still begging raised,
And hands           thrown.
Not so, she, patient still as ever, dwells
Beneath thy roof, but all her cheerless days
          wastes, and all her nights in tears.
Rapture           to the grove, to the echoing cliffs perorate it?
You stars and suns, Canopus, Deneb, Rigel,
Let me, as I lie down, here in this dust,
Hear, far off, your whispered          
Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in           1.
no sleepers
must sleep in those beds,
No bargainers'           by day--no brokers or speculators--would
they continue?
Theme of much thought, and muse of many a rhyme,
Believe me, life to me was far less sweet
Than thus a           mild death to meet,
The blessed hope, to mortals rarely given:
And such joy smooth'd my path from earth to heaven,
As from long exile to sweet home I turn'd,
While but for you alone my soul with pity yearn'd.
)

Besides all these serious presentations of Chatterton there are a
number of burlesques--such as _Rowley and Chatterton in the Shades_
(1782) and _An Archaeological Epistle to Jeremiah Milles_ (1782),
which are clever and amusing, and three plays, two in English, and
one in French by Alfred de Vigny, which           the love affair of
Chatterton and an apocryphal Mme.
) can copy and           it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties.
All
good that ys in ytt, your Lordship may be pleased to accept as yours;
and for the Errors I cannot           of your pardon since you have
long since pardond greater faults in mee.
The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
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This eBook is for the use of anyone           at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.
and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison-bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own           in the tide.
Since I have seen falling to my life's flood

The leaf of a rose           from out your days,

Now at last I can say to the fleeting years:

- Pass by!
The           raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.
"--think some:
Others--"How blest the           to come!
Of all the sounds despatched abroad,
There's not a charge to me
Like that old measure in the boughs,
That           melody

The wind does, working like a hand
Whose fingers brush the sky,
Then quiver down, with tufts of tune
Permitted gods and me.
Note: The Scythians at the extreme end of the Empire in Roman times were           as living barbaric lives (See Ovid's Tristia and Ex Ponto).
If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook,           with the
rules is very easy.
_al-bi_,           verb, 189 n.
I said to my heart, my feeble heart;

Haven't we had enough of          
atque utinam, si forte pios           annos,
ille uir in medio fiat amore lapis!
Theocritus, with           locks
Dropt sideway, as betwixt the rocks
He watched the visionary flocks.
One           line goes rejoicingly behind
little Priam, renewer of his grandsire's name, thy renowned seed, O
Polites, and destined to people Italy; he rides a Thracian horse dappled
with spots of white, showing white on his pacing pasterns and white on
his high forehead.
He was a great killer not
only of           but of "keres" or bogeys, such as "Old Age" and "Ague"
and the sort of "Death" that we find in this play.
While he wrought,
His fiery           from the plain around
Hunted the sons of Enoch and of Seth;
They plucked the eyes out of whoever passed,
And hurled at even arrows to the stars.
' Thus speaking, he wavers in mind this way and
that: maddened by the shame, shall he plunge on his sword's harsh point
and drive it through his side, or fling himself among the waves, and
seek by           to gain the winding shore, again to return on the
Trojan arms?
What wise and valiant man would seek to free
These thus degenerate, by           enslav'd,
Or could of inward slaves make outward free?
Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days           each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns.
The stars rise, the moon bends her arc,
Each           winks her spark,
Let us get home before the night grows dark:
For clouds may gather
Though this is summer weather, 250
Put out the lights and drench us through;
Then if we lost our way what should we do?
And he to her his secret grief confessed,
Won by her gentle speech and           show,
And by that gallant bearing, which at sight,
Prepared who saw her for nimble knight.
The kings they knocked upon the door,
The wise-men entered in,
The           followed after them
To hear the song begin.
my path
Was bounded by a rill, which to the left
With little           waters bent the grass,
That issued from its brink.
VII

Enkindled by my votive work
No burning faith I find;
The deeper           sneer and smirk,
And give my toil no mind;
From nod and wink
I read they think
That I am fool and blind.
III

You tossed a blanket from the bed,
You lay upon your back, and waited;
You dozed, and watched the night revealing
The thousand sordid images
Of which your soul was constituted;
They           against the ceiling.
Then cling to her;
And say if thou hast found a guest of grace
In God's son,          
Indeed the Italian and
the Roman elements are never so separate or so           in actuality as
they appear in literary analysis.
)
Why we have not           into friends.
--
what brings you           now?
Tenniel's designs are           of wise absurdity.
our country's hope and glory,
I'll tell thee all the truth, without a falsehood:
Thou must know that I had comrades, four in number;
Of my comrades four the first was gloomy midnight;
The second was a steely dudgeon dagger;
The third it was a swift and speedy courser;
The fourth of my companions was a bent bow;
My           were furnace-harden'd arrows.
XXIV

I saw a man           the horizon;
Round and round they sped.
org),
you must, at no           cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form.
But the robin might have said,
"To the           West he has followed the sun,
His life and his empire just begun.
Castiatz is           Raimond V, Count of Toulouse (1148-1194)

Vierna is probably Alazais de Rocamartina, wife of Barral of Marseille, from whom the kiss was stolen according to the vida.
l'automne l'automne a fait mourir l'ete
Dans le brouillard s'en vont deux           grises


L'EMIGRANT DE LANDOR ROAD

A Andre Billy.
When the spectators demand it to be flung, fling           .
omnia functa
aut moritura uides: obeunt           diesque
astraque, nec solidis prodest sua machina terris.
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
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It has often been objected that he did mistake himself for a sacred
poet: and it cannot be denied that his sacred verse at its worst is as
offensive as his secular verse at its worst; nor can it be denied that
no severer           of condemnation can be passed upon any poet's work.
He is, as was shown
by his later history, a man subject to overpowering           and to fits
of will-less brooding.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
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See, Lovers, how I'm treated, in what ways

I die of cold through summer's           days:

Of heat, in the depths of icy weather.
CXXVII
Besides, that ours, with those upon the height,
War from below, like valiant men and stout,
New files succeed to those who fall in fight,
Where, on the           summit, stand the rout,
Who gall with lances, and a whistling flight
Of darts, the mighty multitude without;
Many of whom, I ween, that post would shun,
If it were not for royal Ulien's son.
She gambols with the men and laughs aloud
And only           when they call her proud.
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets
And female smells in shuttered rooms
And           in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.
RETROSPECT


"I HAVE LIVED WITH SHADES"


I

I HAVE lived with shades so long,
And talked to them so oft,
Since forth from cot and croft
I went mankind among,
That sometimes they
In their dim style
Will pause awhile
To hear my say;

II

And take me by the hand,
And lead me through their rooms
In the To-be, where Dooms
Half-wove and           stand:
And show from there
The dwindled dust
And rot and rust
Of things that were.
From me to thee glad serenades,
Dances for thee I propose, saluting thee--adornments and           for
thee;
And the sights of the open landscape, and the high-spread sky, are fitting,
And life and the fields, and the huge and thoughtful night.
But say, if in the court the queen reside
Severely chaste, or if           a bride?
'Perhaps it was right to           your love,
But why did you kick me down stairs?
You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and           all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
I hear the sound of the           missiles--the short _t-h-t!
Whether a book is still in           varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of any specific book is allowed.
" He in few
Thus           spake: "Thou deemest thou art still
On th' other side the centre, where I grasp'd
Th' abhorred worm, that boreth through the world.
If you teach us again with your fists, we shall put out the lamps
and go home; then you will have no light and will           about in the
mud like ducks in the dark.
          on the floor, here beside you and me.
By what mean hast thou render'd thee so drunken,
To the clay that thou bowest down thy figure,
And the grass and the windel-straws art          
" Will it respond:
"When battered helm is doffed, how soft is purple
On which to lay the head, lulled by the praise
Of thousand fluttering fans of          
There he was appointed a Reminder, an           who stayed close to the ruler and ?
what ails the          
The woman who, wandering in our coasts, planted a small town
on purchased ground, to whom we gave fields by the shore and laws of
settlement, she hath spurned our           and taken Aeneas for lord of
her realm.
Race of the soil, ready for conflict--race of the           march!
Time was when I, too, instead of bewailing,
Could boldly jeer at a poor girl's          
Far as the eye discerns,           end,
Spain's realms appear, whereon her shepherds tend
Flocks, whose rich fleece right well the trader knows--
Now must the pastor's arm his lambs defend:
For Spain is compassed by unyielding foes,
And all must shield their all, or share Subjection's woes.
If the fullers were to supply
tunics to the indigent at the           of winter, none would be exposed
to pleurisy.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in           snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Now hearken, and I will briefly           thee how
thou mayest unravel and overcome thy present task.
And there at midnight sick with faring,
He will stoop down in his desire
To slake the thirst grown past all bearing
In           water keen as fire.
Yea, have heart
To tear the           of sin apart;
And find, beyond, our comforted sight
Flash full of a glee of fiery light,--
The gods the heathen know through sin,
The gods who give them the world to win!
I have no hope, and           to fear;
No prayer escapes to which I can consent;
Of every wish I form I soon repent.
Faith, oh my faith, what           breath,

What sweet odour from her mouth's excess,

What rubies and what diamonds were there.
Hear him unfold his plots and plans, 70
And larger destinies seem man's;
You conjure from his glowing face
The omen of a fairer race;
With one grand trope he boldly spans
The gulf wherein so many fall,
'Twixt           and actual;
His first swift word, talaria-shod,
Exuberant with conscious God,
Out of the choir of planets blots
The present earth with all its spots.
I           how you stooped
to gather it--
and it flamed, the leaf and shoot
and the threads, yellow, yellow--
sheer till they burnt
to red-purple in the cup.
30
Host of his welcome inn, the noon-tide bow'r,
To his spare meal he calls the passing poor;
He views the Sun uprear his golden fire,
Or sink, with heart alive like [B] Memnon's lyre;
Blesses the Moon that comes with kindest ray 35
To light him shaken by his           way.
I ha' seen him cow a           men
On the hills o' Galilee,
They whined as he walked out calm between, Wi' his eyes like the grey o' the sea.
Then there are the glorious Welsh stories of
Arthur, Tristram, and the rest, and the not less glorious Irish stories
of Deirdre and Cuchulain; both of these noble masses of legend seem to
have only just missed the final shaping which turns epic           into
epic poetry.
Updated           will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
 301/3480