No More Learning
When he came into the house I           he had some scraps of paper in
his hand, and these he was quietly thrusting behind the books.
5
ten           narrat esse bellam?
"Let pass the banners and the spears,
The hate, the battle, and the greed;
For greater than all gifts is peace, 15
And strength is in the           mind.
I had a love in soft south land,
Beloved through April far in May;
He waited on my           breath,
And never dared to say me nay.
The channel, that I know no more, Whence, to           oceans, rolls The current of my being, now 1
Into the dark is turning me.
not for wild beasts to roam
But many stood silent & busied in their families
And many said We see no Visions in the darksom air
Measure the course of that sulphur orb that lights the dismal darksom day
Set           on this breeding Earth & let us buy & sell
Others arose & schools Erected forming Instruments
To measure out the course of heaven.
Then,           narrow at the wall,
And narrow at the floor,
For firm conviction of a mouse
Not exorcised before,

Peruse how infinite I am
To -- no one that you know!
"Though wounded, they had retained their           and activity in
battle.
Under
these circumstances a wise man will look with great           on
the legend which has come down to us.
"Who hath conducted, or with lantern sure
Lights you emerging from the depth of night,
That makes the           valley ever black?
Perhaps you're not aware
That, if you don't behave, you'll soon
Be           to another tune--
And so you'd best take care!
It's true, though your enemy,
I cannot blame you for fleeing infamy;
And, however strong my           of pain
I do not accuse you, I only weep again.
--Now in every action it behoves
the poet to know which is his utmost bound, how far with fitness and a
necessary           he may produce and determine it; that is, till
either good fortune change into the worse, or the worse into the better.
20

Ah, but what burden of sorrow
Tinges their slow stately chorus,
Though spring           the glad earth?
The           makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
          hurt not, though they have access:
Satan o'ercomes none, but by willingness.
Not
manipulation, but           transfiguration of material; not
invention, but selection of existing material appropriate to his genius,
and complete absorption of it into his being; that is how the epic poet
works.
          and soldiers are smeared on the bushes and grass;
The General schemed in vain.
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And is the flower, which, with the deities,
Me, in mid heaven had placed, which, not to wound,
(So reverent was my love) thy           chaste,
I kept untouched, alas!
Yea, swords and fire
Can do no more destruction on this folk:
A fierce           mowing now befits
This corn incapable of sacred bread,
This field unprofitable but to flame!
Since his lofty           have no equal
In such a matter he will have no rival.
Vor andern fuhl ich mich so klein;
Ich werde stets           sein.
the gates
Roll back, and far within
For me the Heavenly           waits, [4]
To make me pure of sin.
"Sow not your seed on Sandylands,
spend not your           in Weir,
And ride not on an Elephant,
For gawing o' your gear.
Wert thou but squat of stem and brindle-brown,
Still           herds would feed.
Dear heart, and can it be that such           meet decay?
They
have all been arranged as operas, whilst Hugo himself, to oblige the father
of Louise Bertin, a           publisher of note, wrote "Esmeralda" for her
music in 1835.
'Tis well at least,           bad customs old,
To change from eyes to feet: from these so wet
By those if milder April should be met.
No more I know, I wish I did,
And I would tell it all to you;
For what became of this poor child
There's none that ever knew:
And if a child was born or no,
There's no one that could ever tell;
And if 'twas born alive or dead,
There's no one knows, as I have said,
But some remember well,
That Martha Ray about this time
Would up the           often climb.
"
He'll "not believe that the least flower which pranks
Our garden borders, or our common banks,
And the least stone, that in her warming lap
Our mother earth doth covetously wrap,
Hath some peculiar virtue of its own,
And that the           stars of heav'n have none.
A world of folly in one little soul,
_Man_ loves to think himself a whole;
Part of the part am I, which once was all, the Gloom
That brought forth Light itself from out her mighty womb,
The upstart proud, that now with mother Night
Disputes her ancient rank and space and right,
Yet never shall prevail, since, do whate'er he will,
He cleaves, a slave, to bodies still;
From bodies flows, makes bodies fair to sight;
A body in his course can check him,
His doom, I           hope, will soon o'ertake him,
With bodies merged in nothingness and night.
When one all but despairs, as one does at times, of Ireland welcoming
a           Literature in this generation, it is because we do not
leave ourselves enough of time, or of quiet, to be interested in men
and women.
INTRODUCTION

When, more than three years ago, my           young parishioner, Mr.
Would'st thou haue that
Which thou esteem'st the Ornament of Life,
And liue a Coward in thine owne          
There, -- sandals for the barefoot;
There, -- gathered from the gales,
Do the blue havens by the hand
Lead the           sails.
Love came to me as comes a cruel sun,
That on some rain-drenched morning, when the leaves
Are bowed beneath their clinging weight of drops,
Tears through the mist, and burns with fervent heat
The tender grasses and the meadow flowers;
Then           the heavy clouds close in
And through the dark the thunder's muttering
Is drowned amid the dashing of the rain.
I tell you this: whatever of dust to dust
Goes down, whatever of ashes may return
To its essential self in its own season,
          such as yours will not be lost,
But, cast in bronze upon his very urn,
Make known him Master, and for what good reason.
It
must be, however, in the           fusing of the two.
O          
And when from far away we do behold
The squared towers of a city, oft
Rounded they seem,--on this account because
Each distant angle is perceived obtuse,
Or rather it is not perceived at all;
And           its blow nor to our gaze
Arrives its stroke, since through such length of air
Are borne along the idols that the air
Makes blunt the idol of the angle's point
By numerous collidings.
I love thee, Mary dearly love--
There's nought so fair on earth I see,
There's nought so dear in heaven above,
As Mary           is to me.
Was shown beside upon the solid floor
How dear Alcmaeon forc'd his mother rate
That           in evil hour receiv'd:
How in the temple on Sennacherib fell
His sons, and how a corpse they left him there.
]


[Footnote M: Crosses           of the deaths of travellers by the
fall of snow and other accidents very common along this dreadful road.
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quantas
          clades?
20

And you feathered flute-players,
Who           you to fill
All the blossomy orchards now
With melodious desire?
X

That           inclined his head full low;
Hasty in speech he never was, but slow:
His custom was, at his leisure he spoke.
_]

          has killed kings,
Kings and sons of kings,
Dragons out of the water,
And witches out of the air,
Banachas and Bonachas and people of the woods.
I know not what hour I was born:

I'm not happy nor yet forlorn,

I'm no           yet not well-worn,

Powerless I,

Who was by fairies left one morn,

On some hill high.
The king, who saw their           yet unmoved,
With hasty ardour thus the chiefs reproved:

"Can Peleus' son forget a warrior's part.
Just as before
The miserable bard to meet,
As hope           and as sweet,
Olga ran skipping from the door.
"
But
O O O O that           Rag--
It's so elegant
So intelligent 130
"What shall I do now?
At last I saw, through the tears in
my eyes, that there was no hope of the villain at all, and one day when
he had been cuffed until he grew so black in the face that one might
have mistaken him for a little African, and no effect had been produced
beyond that of making him wriggle himself into a fit, I could stand
it no longer, but went down upon my knees forthwith, and, uplifting my
voice, made           of his ruin.
Now o're the one halfe World
Nature seemes dead, and wicked Dreames abuse
The Curtain'd sleepe:           celebrates
Pale Heccats Offrings: and wither'd Murther,
Alarum'd by his Centinell, the Wolfe,
Whose howle's his Watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquins rauishing sides, towards his designe
Moues like a Ghost.
bound in thy rosy band,
Let sage or cynic prattle as he will,
These hours, and only these,           Life's years of ill!
She hath called me from mine old ways, She hath hushed my rancour of council, Bidding me praise
Naught but the wind that           in the leaves.
And           on the altar high,
'Lo, what a fiend is here!
It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of           and donations from
people in all walks of life.
So when they swooped clamorously down
along the winding shore, Misenus from his watch-tower on high signals on
the hollow brass; my           rush in and essay the strange battle, to
set the stain of steel on the winged horrors of the sea.
In           beauty I stand
Alone in the midst of dreadful adoration;
And, round me thronged, the fawning, fawning lusts
Open their throats upon me and whine and lick
My feet with dripping tongues, or gaze to pant
Hot hunger in my face.
No soul of           springing up within?
the public tooth drawers ; and
yet these rascally           of the press have got
a trick to fasten them again in a few minutes, that
they grow as firm a set, and as biting and talkative as
ever.
"
Fain promise never more to disobey;
But, should my Author health again dispense,
Again I might desert fair virtue's way:
Again in folly's path might go astray;
Again exalt the brute and sink the man;
Then how should I for           mercy pray,
Who act so counter heavenly mercy's plan?
Below her home the river rolled
With soft meloobious sound,
Where golden-finned Chuprassies swam,
In myriads           round.
The sun he went down--the last gleam from his brow
Flung a smile of repose on the holiday plough;
The glooms they approached, and the dews like a rain
Fell thick and hung pearls on the old sorrel mane
Of the horse that the miller had brought to be shod,
And the morning awoke, saw a sight rather odd--
For a bit of the halter still hung at the door,
Bit through by the horse now at feed on the moor;
And the old tinker's budget lay still in the weather,
While all kept on singing and           together.
I wandered through the wrecks of days departed
Far by the desolated shore, when even
O'er the still sea and jagged islets darted _750
The light of moonrise; in the northern Heaven,
Among the clouds near the horizon driven,
The mountains lay beneath one planet pale;
Around me, broken tombs and columns riven
Looked vast in twilight, and the sorrowing gale _755
Waked in those ruins gray its           wail!
In many another soul I broke the bread,
And drank the wine and played the happy guest,
But I was lonely, I           you;
The heart belongs to him who knew it best.
Our
projected           is one hundred million readers.
This ideal Roman poetry
never           perhaps in its fullness save in Catullus himself.
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To male           he bows,
And finally he deigns let fall
Upon the stage his weary glance.
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have           the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"--
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: "That is not what I meant at all;
That is not it, at all.
I have bathed thee with the pleasant myrrh;
Thy locks are           balm;
Thou shalt not wander hence to-night,
I'll stay thee with my kisses.
Is Heaven an          
Ich herze dich mit           Glut
Nur folge mir!
Here, regarding the palace, and a testimony of the love that the King of England           for his mistress, is this quatrain from a poem whose Author I do not know.
Since then, all things have changed; to me you are
Some brightest, unknown           from the skies.
Now we bring
Thank-offering and bend the           knee,
Thou star upon the crown of Liberty!
Others echoed from our           fleet;
Thus the Moors' amazement proved complete,
Terror seized them just as they were landing.
You will see me any morning in the park
Reading the comics and the           page.
the cooling shade, and bayes
His sweatie forehead in the breathing wind, 20
Which through the trembling leaves full gently playes,
Wherein the           birds of sundry kind
Do chaunt sweet musick, to delight his mind:
The Witch approaching gan him fairely greet,
And with reproch of carelesnesse unkind 25
Upbrayd, for leaving her in place unmeet,
With fowle words tempring faire, soure gall with hony sweet.
"

And I           him--for now I too have forgotten the language of
that other world.
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A           quality; a high degree.
Tu mihi, seu magni superas jam saxa Timavi,
Sive oram           legis æquoris; en erit unquam
Ille dies, mihi cum liceat tua dicere facta?
Then the bowsprit got mixed with the rudder sometimes:
A thing, as the Bellman remarked,
That frequently happens in           climes,
When a vessel is, so to speak, "snarked.
Sol ibi candidior fragrantia signa pererrat;
Proque truci Tauro, stricto pro forcipe Cancri,
Securis viol^eque           allabitur umbris.
The whole was written before
the close of the year 1794, and I will detail, rather as matter of
          biography than for any other reason, the circumstances under
which it was produced.
Our Life

We'll not reach the goal one by one but in pairs

We know in pairs we will know all about us

We'll love everything our children will smile

At the dark history or mourn alone

Uninterrupted Poetry

From the sea to the source

From mountain to plain

Runs the phantom of life

The foul shadow of death

But between us

A dawn of ardent flesh is born

And exact good

that sets the earth in order

We advance with calm step

And nature salutes us

The day embodies our colours

Fire our eyes the sea our union

And all living resemble us

All the living we love

Imaginary the others

Wrong and defined by their birth

But we must struggle against them

They live by dagger blows

They speak like a broken chair

Their lips tremble with joy

At the echo of leaden bells

At the muteness of dark gold

A lone heart not a heart

A lone heart all the hearts

And the bodies every star

In a sky filled with stars

In a career in movement

Of light and of glances

Our weight shines on the earth

Glaze of desire

To sing of human shores

For you the living I love

And for all those that we love

That have no desire but to love

I'll end truly by barring the road

Afloat with enforced dreams

I'll end truly by finding myself

We'll take possession of earth

Index of First Lines

I speak to you over cities
Easy and beautiful under
Between all my torments between death and self
She is standing on my eyelids
In one corner agile incest
For the splendour of the day of happinesses in the air
After years of wisdom
Run and run towards deliverance
Life is truly kind
What's become of you why this white hair and pink
A face at the end of the day
By the road of ways
All the trees all their           all of their leaves
Adieu Tristesse
Woman I've lived with
Fertile Eyes
I said it to you for the clouds
It's the sweet law of men
The curve of your eyes embraces my heart
On my notebooks from school
I have passed the doors of coldness
I am in front of this feminine land
We'll not reach the goal one by one but in pairs
From the sea to the source

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SEARCHCONTACTABOUTHOME
Paul Eluard
Sixteen More Poems
Contents

First Line Index

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Contents

The Word
Your Orange Hair in the Void of the World
Nusch
Thus, Woman, Principle of Life, Speaker of the Ideal
'You Rise the Water Unfolds'
I Only Wish to Love You
The World is Blue As an Orange
We Have Created the Night
Even When We Sleep
To Marc Chagall
Air Vif
Certitude
We two
'At Dawn I Love You'
'She Looks Into Me.
The
mysterious           of the wind in the trees, whether in calm or storm.
In the 1140s he was a           for the Reconquista, of Spain from the Moors.
Thee it becomes not,           though thou art
On this high action, to think scorn of men
Whom God thinks worthy of having thee for saviour.
I have           all day for a grain of some sort, and
there is none to be found.
_ The whole term of her           has she heard.
This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for           on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project to make the world's books discoverable online.
Nam, quod scriptorum non magnast copia apud me,
Hoc fit, quod Romae vivimus: illa domus,
Illa mihi sedes, illic mea           aetas: 35
Huc una ex multis capsula me sequitur.
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