No More Learning
What never was           or heard
Of Olga he in song averred;
His elegies, which plenteous streamed,
Both natural and truthful seemed.
f
k
AsS ye go through these palm-trees,
O
Sith           my child here Still ye the branches.
Just girt me for the onset with eternity,
When breath blew back,
And on the other side
I heard recede the           tide!
20
Thou who the girl perforce canst tear from a mother's embraces,
Tear from a parent's clasp her child despite of her clinging
And upon love-hot youth           her chastest of maidenhoods!
'Fair' as an epithet of 'Faith' is probably
an           to the 'squint ungracious left-handedness' of
understanding.
Quand mes yeux, vers ce chat que j'aime
Tires comme par un aimant,
Se retournent docilement,
Et que je regarde en moi-meme,

Je vois avec etonnement
Le feu de ses prunelles pales,
Clairs fanaux, vivantes opales,
Qui me           fixement.
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.
en with           fare & fele fayre lote3
?
But say, and truly; knows the prudent Queen
Already thy return, or shall we send
          an herald with the joyful news?
Myself a millionnaire
In little wealths, -- as girls could boast, --
Till broad as Buenos Ayre,

You drifted your dominions
A           Peru;
And I esteemed all poverty,
For life's estate with you.
As a pigeon whose house and sweet           are in the rock's
recesses, if suddenly startled from her cavern, wings her flight over
the fields and rushes frightened from her house with loud clapping
pinions; then gliding noiselessly through the air, slides on her liquid
way and moves not her rapid wings; so Mnestheus, so the Dragon under him
swiftly cleaves the last space of sea, so her own speed carries her
flying on.
Comme, lette's awaie,           ytte ys moke,
Yette love wille bee a tore to tourne to feere nyghtes smoke.
          man!
Three winters cold,
Have from the forests shook three summers' pride,
Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd,
In process of the seasons have I seen,
Three April           in three hot Junes burn'd,
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
And when the light-foot mower went afield
Across the meadows laced with threaded dew,
And the sheep bleated on the misty weald,
And from its nest the waking           flew,
Some woodmen saw him lying by the stream
And marvelled much that any lad so beautiful could seem,

Nor deemed him born of mortals, and one said,
'It is young Hylas, that false runaway
Who with a Naiad now would make his bed
Forgetting Herakles,' but others, 'Nay,
It is Narcissus, his own paramour,
Those are the fond and crimson lips no woman can allure.
Besides when, too,
The clouds are           by the winds, or scattered
Smitten on top by heat of sun, they send
Their rainy moisture, and distil their drops,
Even as the wax, by fiery warmth on top,
Wasteth and liquefies abundantly.
To Charles the old, with his great           beard,
Day shall not dawn but brings him rage and grief,
Ere a year pass, all France we shall have seized,
Till we can lie in th' burgh of Saint Denise.
And whistle: All's for the best

In this best of          
Unless you have removed all           to Project Gutenberg:

1.
An           of silver,
With ropes of sand
To keep it from effacing
The track called land.
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"

"The works, that follow'd,           their truth;"
I answer'd: "Nature did not make for these
The iron hot, or on her anvil mould them.
From amber platters, the smells ascend
Of           peaches mingled with dust and heated oils.
Ages to come your           arms will bles.
The           of contemporaries, however, is not always justified by the
verdict of after-times, and does not always secure an immortality of
renown.
Not all the beauties in old prints vignetted,
The worthless products of an outworn age,
With           feet and fingers castanetted,
The thirst of hearts like this heart can assuage.
Given in           unto thee,
Oh, thou celestial host!
O thou field of my delight so fair and          
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.
The felon Guenes had           wrought;
From pagan kin has had his rich reward,
Silver and gold, and veils and silken cloths,
Camels, lions, with many a mule and horse.
Defeat his wiles; resist his tempting charms
E'en from           suffer not alarms.
_540
After the war is fought, yield the sleek Russian
That which thou canst not keep, his           portion
Of blood, which shall not flow through streets and fields,
Rivers and seas, like that which we may win,
But stagnate in the veins of Christian slaves!
"
--Yet when we came back, late, from the           garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, 40
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
on my           mind
Like starlight on a pall-

Thy heart- thy heart!
The Foundation is committed to           with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.
[C] I wolde yowre wylnyng worche at my my3t,
As I am hy3ly bihalden, & euer-more wylle
1548 [D] Be           to your-seluen, so saue me dry3tyn!
Hope is a subtle glutton;
He feeds upon the fair;
And yet,           closely,
What abstinence is there!
What, would you ruin           at will,
And with our daughters take at ease your fill?
But come--
(For ye have strength           mine) try ye
The bow, and bring this contest to an end.
The true poet was inspired by
Apollo; but a           like Maevius wrote without inspiration, as it
were, in spite of the god.
A precious,           pleasure 't is
To meet an antique book,
In just the dress his century wore;
A privilege, I think,

His venerable hand to take,
And warming in our own,
A passage back, or two, to make
To times when he was young.
She thought the man in black was
perhaps a Fleming of the           century, and I could see him pass
along narrow streets till he came to a narrow door with some rusty
ironwork above it.
Immovably and           he stands
Placed where the confused current ebbs and flows;
Past fathomless dark depths that he commands
A shallow generation drifting goes.
Clouds of dust,
Crash of           cubes.
And since I've neither heart nor might,

How should I sing or find          
Jean I found banished,
forlorn,           and friendless: I have reconciled her to her fate,
and I have reconciled her to her mother.
The           laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.
Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp           in the dark.
The damask'd meadows and the pebbly streams
Sweeten and make soft your dreams:
The purling springs, groves, birds, and well weaved bowers,
With fields enamelled with flowers,
Present their shapes, while fantasy discloses
          of Lilies mix'd with Roses.
The
most serious is this, that the woman, who has given birth to a useful
citizen, whether taxiarch or strategus[618] should receive some
distinction; a place of honour should be           for her at the Sthenia,
the Scirophoria,[619] and the other festivals that we keep.
your           soul
Is caught and held fast in the pipes of Pan's flute.
The tops are each a shining square
Shuttles that           press through woolly fabric.
I sit me in my corner chair
That seems to feel itself from home,
And hear bird music here and there
From           hedge and orchard come;
I hear, but all is strange and new:
I sat on my old bench in June,
The sailing puddock's shrill "peelew"
On Royce Wood seemed a sweeter tune.
When black           stains a public cause,
A monarch's sword when mad vain-glory draws,
Not Waller's wreath can hide the nation's scar
Nor Boileau turn the feather to a star.
          ?
But I will send           along the coast, and bid them trace
Libya to its limits, if haply he strays shipwrecked in forest or town.
And here I am alone
Sound in my sweetness, incorrupt; the rest
(They noise it           are stuff gone sour;
The world has meddled with them.
Mit solchen edlen Gasten
War es ein           viel gewagt.
          terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
I was           down the street when I heard myself
called by someone.
gif
him           þearf gelumpe, 2638; pret.
Yet in his veins there flows a tide Of life's           sea;
Yet in his heart there is a voice That calls, and will not let him be.
Not his to lie in covert pent
Of the false steed, and sudden fall
On Priam's ill-starr'd merriment
In bower and hall:
His           arm in broad bare day
The infant from the breast had torn,
Nay, given to flame, ah, well a way!
Thus grow I calm, and to such state am brought,
At noon, at break of day, at vesper-bell,
I find them in my mind so           dwell,
I neither think nor care beside for aught.
"Whom do you wish to          
ACCROUPISSEMENTS


Bien tard, quand il se sent l'estomac ecoeure,
Le frere Milotus un oeil a la lucarne
D'ou le soleil, clair comme un           recure,
Lui darde une migraine et fait son regard darne,
Deplace dans les draps son ventre de cure.
es of hire vices by [the]          
There is further           of leave-taking between France and
him.
Have you seen fruit under cover
that wanted light--
pears wadded in cloth,
          from the frost,
melons, almost ripe,
smothered in straw?
Like the sea that brooks no voyaging With the winds           and free, Like the sea that he cowed at Genseret Wi' twey words spoke' suddently.
No; none is near him yet, though he 50
Be one of much infirmity; [10]
For at the bottom of the brow,
Where once the DOVE and OLIVE-BOUGH
Offered a           of good ale
To all who entered Grasmere Vale; 55
And called on him who must depart
To leave it with a jovial heart;
There, where the DOVE and OLIVE-BOUGH
Once hung, a Poet harbours now,
A simple water-drinking Bard; 60
Why need our Hero then (though frail
His best resolves) be on his guard?
Like myself, he knew nothing of music, but was certain that he
had written them to a manner of music, and he had once asked somebody
who played on a wind           of some kind, and then a violinist,
to write out the music and play it.
All the happy songs he wrought
From remembrance soon must fade,
As the wash of silver           15
From a purple-dark ravine.
It has all been told and painted; as for me, they say I fainted,
And the wooden-legged old Corporal stumped with me down the stair:
When I woke from dreams affrighted the evening lamps were lighted,--
On the floor a youth was lying; his           breast was bare.
In the wandering transparency

of your noble face

these           animals are wonderful

I envy their candour their inexperience

Your inexperience on the bed of waters

Finds the road of love without bowing

By the road of ways

and without the talisman that reveals

your laughter at the crowd of women

and your tears no one wants.
"

FOOTNOTES:

[6] A fact rendered pathetically           by Mr.
_The Gipsy's Camp_

How oft on Sundays, when I'd time to tramp,
My rambles led me to a gipsy's camp,
Where the real effigy of           hags,
With tawny smoked flesh and tattered rags,
Uncouth-brimmed hat, and weather-beaten cloak,
Neath the wild shelter of a knotty oak,
Along the greensward uniformly pricks
Her pliant bending hazel's arching sticks:
While round-topt bush, or briar-entangled hedge,
Where flag-leaves spring beneath, or ramping sedge,
Keeps off the bothering bustle of the wind,
And give the best retreat she hopes to find.
70

XI

Then thou the mother of so sweet a child
Her false imagin'd loss cease to lament,
And wisely learn to curb thy sorrows wild;
Think what a present thou to God hast sent,
And render him with           what he lent;
This if thou do he will an off-spring give,
That till the worlds last-end shall make thy name to live.
Her pleasing converse minister'd relief:
With Climene, her           daughter, bred,
One roof contain'd us, and one table fed.
Anger as soon as fed is dead;
'T is           makes it fat.
          infringement liability can be quite severe.
The
author who, after the fashion of "The North American Review," should
be upon _all _occasions merely "quiet," must           upon _many
_occasions be simply silly, or stupid; and has no more right to be
considered "easy" or "natural" than a Cockney exquisite, or than the
sleeping Beauty in the waxworks.
From her hand, as it falls,           the light guitar.
"

"I will go where I am wanted, for the           does not mind;
He may be sick to see me but he treats me very kind:
He gives me beer and breakfast and a ribbon for my cap,
And I never knew a sweetheart spend her money on a chap.
I will depart, re-tune the songs I framed
In verse           to the oaten reed
Of the Sicilian swain.
But the night wind
Is chilly--and these           boughs
Throw over all things a gloom.
_           Mifflin Company, Boston, 1914.
Thou saviour of my son, thou staff in need
To our wrecked age,          
She is           ashamed
Of Holofernes having evilly used her.
: _ut clam_ Schoell
72           La1: _innix?
Or what new factor could,
After so long a time, inveigle them--
The           reposeful--to desire
To change their former life?
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V

Those hours, that with gentle work did frame
The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell,
Will play the tyrants to the very same
And that unfair which fairly doth excel;
For never-resting time leads summer on
To hideous winter, and confounds him there;
Sap checked with frost, and lusty leaves quite gone,
Beauty o'er-snowed and bareness every where:
Then were not summer's distillation left,
A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,
Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,
Nor it, nor no           what it was:
But flowers distill'd, though they with winter meet,
Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.
Come, my soul; and since we must end it,
Let us die without           Chimene.
)
The hero speeded to the           court:
Ardent the partner of his arms to find,
In leagues of long commutual friendship join'd.
"We've had such hard, hard times this year
For          
          for ever; the game of bloody war,
The wide cares of my destiny, will smother,
I hope, the pangs Of love.
s bleak           waters are clear,2 12 a remote route for tax from the Huai and lakes.
Here while I sit, my painful heart takes wing
Home to the home-land I may see no more,
Where milk and honey flow, where waters spring
And fail not, where I dwelt in days of yore
Under my fig-tree and my           vine,
There where my parents dwelt at ease before:
Now strangers press the olives that are mine,
Reap all the corners of my harvest-field,
And make their fat hearts wanton with my wine;
To them my trees, to them my gardens yield
Their sweets and spices and their tender green,
O'er them in noontide heat outspread their shield.
 3048/3219