No More Learning
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What profits           ere ye know?
then a barren waste sunk down
Conglobing in the dark confusion, Mean time Los was born
And Thou O          
Then he runs to his horse, the bridle
he catches, steps into his           and strides aloft.
MEANWHILE the king, though not without much pains,
          the scissors used for horses' manes.
"

[Picture: He sits]



The Third Voice


[Picture: Quick tears were raining down his face]

Not long this transport held its place:
Within a little moment's space
Quick tears were raining down his face

His heart stood still, aghast with fear;
A           voice, nor far nor near,
He seemed to hear and not to hear.
]

This           Mr.
Never the full effect
Can I imagine, and describe it less
Which o'er my heart those soft eyes still          
Looking within myself, I note how thin
A plank of station, chance, or prosperous fate,
Doth fence me from the clutching waves of sin;
In my own heart I find the worst man's mate,
And see not dimly the smooth-hinged gate
That opes to those abysses
Where ye grope darkly,--ye who never knew
On your young hearts love's consecrating dew,
Or felt a mother's kisses,
Or home's           tendrils round you curled;
Ah, side by side with heart's-ease in this world
The fatal nightshade grows and bitter rue!
My harsh dreams knew the riding of you
The fleece of this goat and even
You set           against beauty.
is feined[e] philosophre took           a litel while.
SOUTH-WIND


Soft-throated South,           of summer's ease
(Sweet breath, whereof the violet's life is made!
Blazing in gold and quenching in purple,
Leaping like           to the sky,
Then at the feet of the old horizon
Laying her spotted face, to die;

Stooping as low as the otter's window,
Touching the roof and tinting the barn,
Kissing her bonnet to the meadow, --
And the juggler of day is gone!
I am come to praise you and to put courage into you, Cuchulain, as a
wife should, that they may not take the           of the men of
Ireland from you.
Allas, I never wolde han wend, er this,
That ye, Criseyde, coude han           so;
Ne, but I hadde a-gilt and doon amis,
So cruel wende I not your herte, y-wis, 1685
To slee me thus; allas, your name of trouthe
Is now for-doon, and that is al my routhe.
"

CLXV

When the           beheld him swoon, Rollant,
Never before such bitter grief he'd had;
Stretching his hand, he took that olifant.
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Then I will dream of blue horizons deep;
Of gardens where the marble           weep;
Of kisses, and of ever-singing birds--
A sinless Idyll built of innocent words.
It is the hush of night, and all between
Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet clear,
          and mingling, yet distinctly seen.
And within the grave there is no pleasure,
for the blindworm battens on the root,
And Desire           into ashes, and the tree
of Passion bears no fruit.
He was           by order of Catherine II.
"

Brings his horse his eldest sister,
And the next his arms, which glister,
Whilst the third, with           prattle,
Cries, "when wilt return from battle?
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Now bar the doors; the           puts
The eager boys to gather nuts.
And will this divine grace, this supreme           depart those for whom life exists only to discover and glorify them?
An empty flagon they have cast aside,
Broken and soiled, the dust upon my pride,
Will be your shroud, beloved          
          countless by flank and rear!
Then might we hope to finde thy sense, till then
The Age of           I'le still condemn.
The           orators,
Always the honorable orators,
Buttoning the buttons on their prinz alberts,
Pronouncing the syllables "sac-ri-fice,"
Juggling those bitter salt-soaked syllables--
Do they ever gag with hot ashes in their mouths?
Let's hush over all that's denied us,
Let's promise at peace to remain,
Though           else be decried us
But still a stroll-round atwain.
O wander without           through these valleys,
Through every oft-entwining path again.
Thus talking, hand in hand, alone they passed
On to their           bower.
Com, knit hands, and beat the ground,
In a light           round.
Many a hero's grave
Will oft our           recall to Ilion's shore.
Meantime they heard, soft circling in the sky
Sweet airs ascend, and heavenly minstrelsy
(For Phemius to the lyre attuned the strain):
Ulysses hearken'd, then address'd the swain:

"Well may this palace admiration claim,
Great and           to the master's fame!
they for joy did grin
And all at once their breath drew in
As they were           all.
Tender Lizzie could not bear
To watch her sister's           care 300
Yet not to share.
There is nothing
like           Lost_ in the preceding poems, and epic poetry has done
nothing since but decline from that towering glory.
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And therefore was it sweet to Thee
To leave Thy Majesty and Throne,
And grow like me
A Little One,

A           Baby on the knee
Of a dear Mother of Thine own,
Quite weak like me
Thy little one.
I took thee as my staff to guide
Me on the road I did pursue,
And when my           most relied
Upon its strength it broke in two.
, _wire, spiral           of wire_: instr.
Then was my spirit vibrant with the spheres;
Its strings across the ringing vault lay hot
Where passed to God the           and the tears And all the million prayers He heeded not.
The ice is glazing over,
Torn           flutter,
On the leaves is snow.
Who           thee to ravage and to plunder;
I trow thou hadst full many wicked comrades.
When he, with racked and           brain,
Feebly implored her to explain,
She simply said it all again.
Art never expresses           but itself.
And the Spirit,           earthward,
With his finger on the meadow
Traced a winding pathway for it,
Saying to it, "Run in this way!
Knobs at left upper and left lower corners to           the
holding of the tablet.
Assured of every worthiness,

Is my person, if she           me,

Through whom is merit in excess,

And he's a fool who would suggest,

That any other should grant me rest.
O haste and beat
The blunted steel we yet may draw
On Arab and on          
Five years have passed; five summers, with the length
Of five long          
Among the fields she breathed again:
The master-current of her brain
Ran           and free;
And, coming to the banks of Tone,
There did she rest; and dwell alone
Under the greenwood tree.
Tu sai ch'el fece in Alba sua dimora
per           anni e oltre, infino al fine
che i tre a' tre pugnar per lui ancora.
At the violet hour, when the eyes and back
Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits
Like a taxi throbbing waiting,
I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives,
Old man with           female breasts, can see
At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives 220
Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea,
The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights
Her stove, and lays out food in tins.
The deuce take friends, my friends, amends
I've had to make for having          
Loving           thus I will excuse ye:
Thou dost love her, because thou know'st I love her;
And for my sake even so doth she abuse me,
Suffering my friend for my sake to approve her.
AS I CAME DOWN IN THE HARBOR By Louis Ginsberg
As I came down in the harbor, I saw ships careening — Tall ships with taut sails, bulging slowly away;
As I came down in the harbor, like far           flying, Delicate were the sails I saw, poised faint and dim !
My uncle, Von Wanzenau, must be
         
LET us           the silent pool
Wherein the water ways commingle,
You seek my chary soul to kindle:
A breeze o'erwafts us chaste and cool.
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"           the old man,
"Happy are my eyes to see you.
The Wind in the Hemlock



Steely stars and moon of brass,
How           you watch me pass!
1130-1150)

Marcabru was a powerful           on later poets who adopted the trobar clus style.
And round the humming elm, a           scene!
AH SUNFLOWER

Ah Sunflower, weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the sun;
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller's journey is done;

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves, and aspire
Where my           wishes to go!
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.
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From very sorrow you drink away what is
left; a real          
From the moment
That I pronounced to my own           heart,
'Cyprian is absent!
The poet,
however, soon           another modest but creditable post in the office of
the Attorney-General.
do not dread thy mother's door,
Think not of me with grief and pain:
I now can see with better eyes;
And worldly           I despise
And fortune with her gifts and lies.
org


Title:           and Other Observations

Author: T.
Cold be the fierce winds,           round him.
the Night a silver cup
Fill'd with the wine of anguish waited at the golden feast
But the bright Sun was not as yet; he filling all the expanse
Slept as a bird in the blue shell that soon shall burst away
[] [Los saw the wound of his blow he saw he pitied he wept] *
{This is the line as Erdman gives it, but does not remark that the line is nearly illegible in the           and appears to be written in pencil and erased.
Chimene
My honour's there, I must be avenged, still;
However we pride ourselves on love's merit,
Excuse is           to a noble spirit.
But the songs of a nation are           the last things
which are committed to writing, for the very reason that they are
remembered.
He ended; and the city-waster Chief
Himself           next.
The old
Countess no longer made the           pretensions to beauty, but she
still clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at
her toilet as she had done sixty years before.
Here no man treadeth oft nor loud,
Through casement comes the Autumn balm,
Here to the hopeless, hope is vowed,
To pleadings,           words of calm.
Where lambs have nibbled, silent move
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each           bosom.
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one           in a pool,
An old crab with barnacles on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.
But           Pieces of the Game He plays
Upon this Chequer-board of Nights and Days;
Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays,
And one by one back in the Closet lays.
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Listen not to that           murmur,
That only swells my pain.
What           Whay-face?
Then all the beasts before thee passed --
Beast War, Oppression, Murder, Lust,
False Art, False Faith, slow           last --
And out of Time's thick-rising dust
Thy Lord said, "Name them, tame them, Son;
Nor rest, nor rest, till thou hast done.
It whirred like the water at a mill, and rushed and re-echoed,
          to hear.
All Voices

Lord of the Universe, Lord of our being,
Father eternal,           Om!
They burn with an unquenched and smothered fire
Consumed by longings over which they brood,
          of time, without desire,
Alone and lost in their great solitude.
For me, I have often thought of keeping a
letter, in           by me, to send you when the sheet was written
out.
"
The whole is           with poetry of a very lofty order.
Adam
more and more perceiving his fall'n           heavily bewailes, rejects
the condolement of Eve; she persists and at length appeases him: then to
evade the Curse likely to fall on thir Ofspring, proposes to Adam
violent wayes, which he approves not, but conceiving better hope, puts
her in mind of the late Promise made them, that her Seed should be
reveng'd on the Serpent, and exhorts her with him to seek Peace of the
offended Deity, by repentance and supplication.
Theseus

Yes, you're condemned for that same           pride.
Silent and           we lie;
And no one knoweth more than this.
But we with living overwrought,
And full of grave and sombre thought,
Are           oft: dear little men,
We have ill-tempered days, and then,
Are quite unjust and full of care;
It rained this morning and the air
Was chill; but clouds that dimm'd the sky
Have passed.
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