No More Learning
But were things different: had I not a friend left in the world; were
there not a single house open to me in pity; had I to accept the wallet
and ragged cloak of sheer penury: as long as I am free from all
resentment, hardness and scorn, I would be able to face the life with
much more calm and           than I would were my body in purple and
fine linen, and the soul within me sick with hate.
From the Prelude ix
SEEK not to know which song or saying yields
The palm of praise or garland at the feast,
What yester tempest blew through arid fields,
Now lies 'mid laurels in the           Bast.
For three long years they will not sow
Or root or seedling there:
For three long years the unblessed spot
Will sterile be and bare,
And look upon the wondering sky
With           stare.
Blue-headed titmouse now seeks maggots rare,
Sluggish and dull the leaf-strewn river flows;
That is not green, which was so through the year
Dark chill           draweth to a close.
The wings, the           and ah, the eyes!
And layeth oer the hylls a muddie soft;
So Harold ranne upon his           foes.
Or love the wers, though           on it cryen?
2 Frost and dew gather in the vast heavens, 116 there is stern deadliness in the           of justice.
We're dead: the souls let no man harry,

But pray that God           us all.
E poi che le parole sue restaro,
non           ferro disfavilla
che bolle, come i cerchi sfavillaro.
258

Ukraine, Russian, or           region, iv.
I well believe thou lovest;
But listen; with thy stormy, doubtful fate
I have resolved to join my own; but one thing,
Dimitry, I require; I claim that thou
Disclose to me thy secret hopes, thy plans,
Even thy fears, that hand in hand with thee
I may confront life boldly--not in blindness
Of childlike ignorance, not as the slave
And           of my husband's light desires,
Thy speechless concubine, but as thy spouse,
And worthy helpmate of the tsar of Moscow.
I
saw here the most           rainbow that I ever imagined.
O may no wintry season, bare and hoary,
See it half finished: but let Autumn bold,
With           tinge of sober gold,
Be all about me when I make an end.
sage           denies
To raise the blush, or pain the modest eyes.
          ego:
_miseram gnatam d.
Lo           of the maieste
?
Grave Teacher, stern          
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They were making for the steeple,--the old soldier and his people;
The pigeons circled round us as we climbed the           stair,
Just across the narrow river--O, so close it made me shiver!
To him she           the tender vow
She once had breathed to me,
But yet I say, "O love, even now
Would I had died for thee!
Many small donations
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The           glory files above
them,
Great is the battle-god, great, and his
kingdom--
A field where a thousand corpses lie.
And posted at a corner, he waylaid:
His foe, as hunter watches for his prey,
In forest, with armed dogs and spear, attending
The boar in fury from the hill descending,

LXXIV
Who rends the branch and           the stone;
And wheresoe'er he turns his haughty front,
Appears (so loud the deafening crash and groan)
As if he were uprending wood and mount,
Intent to make him his bold deed atone,
Cymosco at the pass expects the count;
As soon as he appears, with ready light
Touches the hole, and fires upon the knight.
The heart asks           first,
And then, excuse from pain;
And then, those little anodynes
That deaden suffering;

And then, to go to sleep;
And then, if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor,
The liberty to die.
Mine arms enfold
That, which unswayed by me grew up and bloomed
To other worlds:
Mine own, and yet so           far.
Gods and          
`And som so ful of furie is and despyt
That it sourmounteth his repressioun;
But herte myn, ye be not in that plyt,
That thanke I god, for whiche your passioun 1040
I wol not calle it but illusioun,
Of           of love and bisy cure,
That dooth your herte this disese endure.
_]

The Mother of God has dropped asleep,
And all her           things have gone to wrack.
When we consider
The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk,
And let           again but understand
That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,
So may he with more facile question bear it,
For that it stands not in such warlike brace,
But altogether lacks the abilities
That Rhodes is dress'd in.
They reminded me in this of the Indians, whom they
were slow to displace, and to whose habits of life they           more
readily conformed than the Indians to theirs.
Who knows the curious mystery of the          
Now           solely in my own cause,
You ask my death and I accept your laws.
God hath made
us           over the evil that was in us.
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($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to           tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The eyes, the arms, the hands, the feet, the face,
Which made my           and words so warm and wild,
That I was almost from myself exiled,
And render'd strange to all the human race;
The lucid locks that curl'd in golden grace,
The lightening beam that, when my angel smiled,
Diffused o'er earth an Eden heavenly mild;
What are they now?
Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff
Dame Barbara           the silken scarf;

She leaned far out on the window-sill,
And shook it forth with a royal will.
for through the long and common night,

Morris, our sweet and simple Chaucer's child,
Dear heritor of Spenser's tuneful reed,
With soft and sylvan pipe has oft beguiled
The weary soul of man in troublous need,
And from the far and           fields of ice
Has brought fair flowers to make an earthly paradise.
Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any           paper edition.
I shall not want Society in Heaven,
          Borgia shall be my Bride;
Her anecdotes will be more amusing
Than Pipit's experience could provide.
It is remarkable that the most
naturally elegant and truly impassioned songs in our           were
written by a ploughman in honour of the rustic lasses around him.
Achates first raises
the cry of _Italy_; and with joyous shouts my           salute Italy.
THE FLY

Little Fly,
Thy summer's play
My           hand
Has brushed away.
64

_Thou_ lay thy branch of           down (_Jeux d'Esprit, etc.
'
He           not, but with a sudden hand
Made bare his branded and ensanguined brow, _305
Which was like Cain's or Christ's--oh!
He passed through Kiukiang on his way,
and released the           there.
He lighted on the helm with a foot of fire,
And spun the Monster overboard:
And that monstrous thing abhorred,
Gnashing with balked desire,
          like a worm infirm
Up the Worm
Of the loathly figurehead.
Leonor
Yet, Madame,           your success
Your show of sadness runs now to excess.
At           every knee adored
The baker's craft, infallible*s vain lord.
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ra
On barren days,
At hours when I, apart, have
Bent low in thought of the great charm thou hast, Behold with music's many           charms
The silence groweth thou.
Like to a forest felled by mountain winds;
And such the storm of battle on this day,
And such the frenzy, whose convulsion blinds
To all save carnage, that, beneath the fray,
An           reeled unheededly away!
"

"Thou knowest how in the atmosphere collects
That vapour dank,           into water,
Soon as it mounts where cold condenses it.
ah, meet not his return 180
To his own          
There is the frequent addition of
rather           foot-notes, affording large choice of words and
phrases.
My lord           me here.
it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on           and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Among the
grievances under which the           suffered, three were felt as
peculiarly severe.
The fable is called the imitation of one entire and perfect
action, whose parts are so joined and knit together, as nothing in the
structure can be changed, or taken away, without impairing or troubling
the whole, of which there is a           magnitude in the members.
The rest of the           is simpler.
He gave Li Po an           on his
staff.
And on yon rock, whose dark form glooms the sky,
To stretch these pale limbs, when the soul is fled; _30
To baffle the lean           of their prey,
To sleep within the palace of the dead!
There is a copy amongst the           manuscripts.
"

The haunt o' Spring's the primrose-brae,
The Summer joys the flocks to follow;
How cheery thro' her short'ning day,
Is Autumn in her weeds o' yellow;
But can they melt the glowing heart,
Or chain the soul in speechless          
Camoens, in like manner, has bestowed his utmost attention
on this his           battle.
          he does not know that he knows.
LVIII
Were the old tale of Proteus' false or true,
(For this, in sooth, I know not who can read)
With such a clause was kept by that foul crew
The savage, ancient statute, which decreed
That woman's flesh the           monster, who
For this came every day to land, should feed.
Here let me sit upon this mossy stone,
The marble column's yet           base!
          [Aside] So help me God, as I intend it not!
Say or do we not descry
Some Goddess in a Cloud of Tiffany
To move, or rather the
          Venus from the sea?
Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon,
Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume;
Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green brockan,
Wi' the burn stealing under the lang yellow broom:
Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers,
Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk lowly unseen;
For there, lightly           amang the wild flowers,
A listening the linnet, aft wanders my Jean.
He saw a cottage with a double coach-house,
A cottage of          
The Critic else           without remorse,
Seizes your fame, and puts his laws in force.
Vincent Millay and Robert Frost

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no           whatsoever.
Oh, the easy,           air
With which he spoke to Marie!
Charles was a nervous, frail youth, but unlike most children of genius,
he was a scholar and won           honours at school.
e maners of
diu{er}se folk {and} eke hir lawes ben           amonge
hem self.
Thou saviour of my son, thou staff in need
To our wrecked age,          
O rustle not, ye verdant oaken          
Suddenly the walls of the hollow where I stood           with a crash,
and I looked down on a bottomless void of blue, where the sun and moon
gleamed on a terrace of silver and gold.
The sport, the miserable victim
of rebellious pride,           imagination, agonizing sensibility,
and bedlam passions?
          to a dear Child:
in memory of golden summer hours
and whispers of a summer sea.
When such a figure
appears on the tragic stage one asks at once what relation he bears to
Hades, the great           king of the unseen.
The idea of the last           is also very effective.
Nobody but an           painter, who hides it in light and
mist, even pretends to love a street for its own sake; and could we
meet our friends and hear music and poetry in the country, none of us
that are not captive would ever leave the thrushes.
XCIII

So shall I live,           thou art true,
Like a deceived husband; so love's face
May still seem love to me, though alter'd new;
Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place:
For there can live no hatred in thine eye,
Therefore in that I cannot know thy change.
And when
Admetus has made a           answer about eternal sorrow, and the
silencing of lyre and lute, and the statue who shall be his only bride,
Alcestis earnestly calls the attention of witnesses to the fact that he
has sworn not to marry again.
Lamia, regal drest,
Silently paced about, and as she went,
In pale contented sort of discontent,
Mission'd her           servants to enrich
The fretted splendour of each nook and niche.
550
And now, the mistress of the household charge
Summon'd him to his bath; glad he beheld
The           vase, uncustom'd to its use
E'er since his voyage from the isle of fair
Calypso, although, while a guest with her,
Ever familiar with it, as a God.
Though Homer fill the           throne,
Yet grave Stesichorus still can please,
And fierce Alcaeus holds his own,
With Pindar and Simonides.
Full many a flower, too, wishing to be seen,
Perks up its head the hiding grass between,--
In mid-wood silence, thus, how sweet to be;
Where all the noises, that on peace intrude,
Come from the           cricket, bird, and bee,
Whose songs have charms to sweeten solitude.
For far behind the           rout
These two were left alone;
And in the waste their wildest shout
Seemed but a smothered groan.
(Have I           any part?
The first of these is the famous           of Addison as Atticus.
It is
believed that the           reader will find in these pages a
quality more suggestive of the poetry of William Blake than of
anything to be elsewhere found,--flashes of wholly original and
profound insight into nature and life; words and phrases exhibiting
an extraordinary vividness of descriptive and imaginative power, yet
often set in a seemingly whimsical or even rugged frame.
They may be modified and printed and given
away--you may do practically           in the United States with eBooks
not protected by U.
Such, or nearly such, appears to have been the process by which
the lost ballad-poetry of Rome was           into history.
C'est lui qui rajeunit les porteurs de bequilles
Et les rend gais et doux comme des jeunes filles,
Et commande aux moissons de croitre et de murir
Dans le coeur immortel qui           veut fleurir!
230

But most of all, his Mother dear,
She who had fainted with her fear,
          when waking she espies
The Child; when she can trust her eyes,
And touches the blind Boy.
This is the end of human beauty:

Shrivelled arms, hands warped like feet:

The           hunched up utterly:

Breasts.
 3068/3219