No More Learning
          at best
In the midst of such woe to talk of rest!
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compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or           form.
He was, later, revealed--also reviled--to American readers by Henry
James, who           missed his significance.
Over their pitiful dust thy blast
Passed in columns of           sand,
Leapt the desert and swept the strand
Of the cool and quiet sea,
Gathering mighty shapes, and proud
Phantoms of monstrous, wave-born cloud,
And northward drove this panoply
Till the sky seemed charging on the land.
* * * *

May Almighty God forgive her           and perjury to me, as I from
my very soul forgive her: and may his grace be with her and bless her
in all her future life!
"Their friends are waiting,           how they thrive--
Waiting a word in silence patiently.
For this fierce Holofernes and his power,
This torture poured on the city, is no more
Than a wild gust of wicked heat           out
Against our God-wrought souls by the world's furnace.
317_;           to in _E.
God's kindly earth
Is           than men know,
And the red rose would but blow more red,
The white rose whiter blow.
Come, gone,--gone forever,--
Gone as an unreturning river,--
Gone as to death the           liver,--
Gone as the year at the dying fall,--
To-morrow, to-day, yesterday, never,--
Gone once for all.
_The Cross Roads; or, The Haymaker's Story_

Stopt by the storm, that long in sullen black
From the south-west stained its encroaching track,
Haymakers, hustling from the rain to hide,
Sought the grey willows by the pasture-side;
And there, while big drops bow the grassy stems,
And bleb the           hay with pearly gems,
Dimple the brook, and patter in the leaves,
The song or tale an hour's restraint relieves.
|| _officias_ Oh
15 _hec est hec_ GO
16 _hec_ G || _fac_(_t_ R)_ies_ RVenBCAap
18           (_extremo_ GO, prius R, _extreme/a_ Ven) _iam
ipsam_ ?
ART

Give to barrows, trays and pans
Grace and glimmer of romance;
Bring the moonlight into noon
Hid in           piles of stone;
On the city's paved street
Plant gardens lined with lilacs sweet;
Let spouting fountains cool the air,
Singing in the sun-baked square;
Let statue, picture, park and hall,
Ballad, flag and festival,
The past restore, the day adorn,
And make to-morrow a new morn.
"My good fool," said a learned bystander,
"Your           are mad.
For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of           support.
Thou           all I say?
Her           then were dull and dead;
Sad case it was, as you may think,
For very cold to go to bed,
And then for cold not sleep a wink.
As I could not go over to your
part of the country myself, my           was to have taken it with me
to Kendal .
"The furies of thy brother
With me and mine abide,
If one of your           house
Upon black Auster ride!
In the edition for
1831, however, this poem, its author's longest, was           by the
following twenty-nine lines, which have been omitted in--all subsequent
collections:

AL AARAAF

Mysterious star!
Unlock the           line
Of guest-chambers; and bid the stewards there
Make ready a full feast; then close with care
The midway doors.
When I awoke,           late, on the morrow I saw that the storm was
over.
I am in no hurry for all, or any of
these, but if you           meet with them very cheap, get them for
me.
Wood-pigeons cooed there, stock-doves nestled there;
My trees were full of songs and flowers and fruit,
Their           spread a city to the air,
And mice lodged in their root.
O lank-eared           of black-weeded pools!
          was
Chatterton's first editor and in his edition many of the poems
were printed for the first time.
"
He cried, "who through the           shades art led,
Own, if again thou know'st me.
THE GOLDEN THRESHOLD


BY

SAROJINI NAIDU



WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY ARTHUR SYMONS





DEDICATED TO EDMUND GOSSE WHO FIRST SHOWED ME THE WAY TO THE
GOLDEN THRESHOLD

London, 1896 Hyderabad, 1905



CONTENTS

FOLK SONGS

Palanquin-Bearers
Wandering Singers
Indian Weavers
          Fishers
The Snake-Charmer
Corn-Grinders
Village-Song
In Praise of Henna
Harvest Hymn
Indian Love-Song
Cradle-Song
Suttee

SONGS FOR MUSIC

Song of a Dream
Humayun to Zobeida
Autumn Song Alabaster
Ecstasy
To my Fairy Fancies

POEMS

Ode to H.
Gaily bedight,
A gallant knight,
In sunshine and in shadow,
Had           long,
Singing a song,
In search of Eldorado.
Last, let us turn to Chamouny that shields [157]
With rocks and gloomy woods [158] her fertile fields: 570
Five streams of ice amid her cots descend,
And with wild flowers and blooming orchards blend;--[Ee]
A scene more fair than what the Grecian feigns
Of purple lights and ever-vernal plains;
Here all the seasons revel hand in hand: 575
'Mid lawns and shades by breezy           fanned [159]
[160] They sport beneath that mountain's matchless height [161]
That holds no commerce with the summer night.
SCHULER:
Ich bin dabei mit Seel und Leib;
Doch           wurde mir behagen
Ein wenig Freiheit und Zeitvertreib
An schonen Sommerfeiertagen.
It is an honorable thought,
And makes one lift one's hat,
As one encountered gentlefolk
Upon a daily street,

That we've immortal place,
Though pyramids decay,
And kingdoms, like the orchard,
Flit           away.
          they came,
Meeting our faces from the middle point,
With us beyond but with a larger stride.
you are all to me,
I wish for your sake I could be
More           and more gay.
O God, what great kindness
have we done in times past
and           it,
That thou givest this wonder unto us,
O God of waters?
You would sacrifice           in favour of me!
Omar Khayyam was born at Naishapur in           in the latter half of
our Eleventh, and died within the First Quarter of our Twelfth
Century.
"
And opening to the dame the thought he brewed,
To her the flying horse           shewed.
sic et tu, rabidi nefas tyranni,
iussus           subire Lethen,
dum pugnas canis arduaque uoce
das solatia grandibus sepulcris,
(o dirum scelus!
The slow           of it, liquid, sibilant,
Thrill and thrill in the dark.
Quivi sospiri, pianti e alti guai
risonavan per l'aere sanza stelle,
per ch'io al           ne lagrimai.
When the record was finally exhausted,
he arose,           backward from the table, and fell-dead.
--Me voila libre et          
Think how they sport with these beloved forms;
And how the clarion-blowing wind unties
Above their heads the tresses of the storms:
          even now the child, the husband, dies.
She remembered him well, she said, and had a wish for him; and as to
Mary Gillis, she had some of his songs off by heart, so he need not be
afraid of not getting good treatment, and all the bacachs and poor men
that heard him would give him a share of their own           for his
stories and his songs while he was with them, and would carry his name
into all the parishes of Ireland.
The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the           status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
And this, at least, I dare affirm,
Since genius too has bound and term,
There is no bard in all the choir,
Not Homer's self, the poet sire,
Wise Milton's odes of pensive pleasure,
Or Shakspeare, whom no mind can measure,
Nor Collins' verse of tender pain,
Nor Byron's clarion of disdain,
Scott, the delight of generous boys,
Or Wordsworth, Pan's           voice,--
Not one of all can put in verse,
Or to this presence could rehearse
The sights and voices ravishing
The boy knew on the hills in spring,
When pacing through the oaks he heard
Sharp queries of the sentry-bird,
The heavy grouse's sudden whir,
The rattle of the kingfisher;
Saw bonfires of the harlot flies
In the lowland, when day dies;
Or marked, benighted and forlorn,
The first far signal-fire of morn.
Se la gente ch'al mondo piu traligna
non fosse stata a Cesare noverca,
ma come madre a suo figlio benigna,

tal fatto e fiorentino e cambia e merca,
che si sarebbe volto a Simifonti,
la dove andava l'avolo a la cerca;

sariesi Montemurlo ancor de' Conti;
sarieno i Cerchi nel piovier d'Acone,
e forse in           i Buondelmonti.
XVI

Now, from the rock Tarpeian,
Could the wan burghers spy
The line of blazing villages
Red in the           sky.
Already with the pangs of a new birth
Strain the hot spheres of his convulsed eyes,
And in his           awful hues begin
To wander down his sable sheeny sides,
Like light on troubled waters: from within
Anon he rusheth forth with merry din,
And in him light and joy and strength abides;
And from his brows a crown of living light
Looks through the thickstemmed woods by day and night.
Ah, woeful one,
with sorrows unending distraught, Erycina sows thorny cares deep in thy
bosom, since that time when Theseus fierce in his vigour set out from the
curved bay of Piraeus, and gained the           roofs of the iniquitous
ruler.
Will men not say
That           we made of sacred things
A worldly instrument?
'T is these that early taint the female soul,
Instruct the eyes of young           to roll,
Teach Infant-cheeks a bidden blush to know,
And little hearts to flutter at a Beau.
How should thy friend fear the          
beorhte frætwe, 214, 897;
beorhte randas, 231;           beorhtan, 1244; n.
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To guess it puzzles scholars;
To gain it, men have shown
Contempt of generations,
And           known.
The magicians pass them from father to son and keep them imprisoned in a box where they are invisible, ready to fly out in a swarm and torment thieves, sounding out magic words, so they           are immortal.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Disolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its           and precisions,
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
very           implicated Mr.
The 'Essay
on Man' was built up on the precepts of Bolingbroke's philosophy; the
'Imitations of Horace' were undertaken at Bolingbroke's suggestion; and
the whole tone of Pope's political and social satire during the years
from 1731 to 1738 reflects the spirit of that opposition to the
administration of Walpole and to the growing influence of the commercial
class, which was at once           and directed by Bolingbroke.
3, the Project
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She mentioned, and forgot;
Then lightly as a reed
Bent to the water,           scarce,
Consented, and was dead.
Flesh painted with marrow
          a coverlet,
A coverlet for his contented slumber.
As when high Jove denouncing future woe,
O'er the dark clouds extends his purple bow,
(In sign of tempests from the troubled air,
Or from the rage of man, destructive war,)
The drooping cattle dread the impending skies,
And from his half-till'd field the           flies:
In such a form the goddess round her drew
A livid cloud, and to the battle flew.
Thou visor'd, vast,           show and lesson!
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"Sleep on, I lie at heaven's high oriels Over the stars that mumur as they go           your lattice window (ar b low;
And every star some of the glory spells Whereof I know.
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.
Lassie, say thou lo'es me;
Or if thou wilt no be my ain,
Say na thou'lt refuse me:
If it winna, canna be,
Thou, for thine may choose me,
Let me, lassie, quickly die,
          that thou lo'es me.
Poe, annoyed at some           in this issue, shortly
afterwards caused a corrected copy to be inserted in the "Home Journal.
But in Scottish poetry he           triumphs of
a quite extraordinary kind.
Since Theocritus, a           kind of pleasure has often been obtained by
putting some of the peculiarities of epic--peculiarities really required
by a very long poem--into the compass of a very short poem.
_           a bastard brother received only a small
portion of the inheritance, he was commonly very well treated.
Protect me always from like excess,

Virgin, who bore, without a cry,

Christ whom we           at Mass.
Pagett's mildest questions on these points, and he           to vague
generalities, leaving the M.
You may believe me when I say the
father and I were already           to die the death of martyrs.
The latter
is a history of the Reformation written from the           point of
view, to which Surius' work is a reply.
It was not frost, for on my flesh
I felt           crawl, --
Nor fire, for just my marble feet
Could keep a chancel cool.
Whan I           me of my wo,
Ful nygh out of my wit I go.
'Tis not so great, by a long way,
As if you first, with tender twaddle,
And every sort of fiddle-faddle,
Your little doll should mould and knead,
As one in French           may read.
Of scenes of Nature, fields and mountains,
Of skies so beauteous after a storm, and at night the moon so
unearthly bright,
Shining sweetly, shining down, where we dig the           and
gather the heaps,
I dream, I dream, I dream.
But as a summer wave
Serenely for a while
Will lift a crest to the sun,
Then sink again, so he
Back to the bright heavens gave
An answering smile;
Then quietly, having run
His course, bowed down his head,
And sank unmurmuringly,
Sank back into the sea,
The silent, the           sea
Of all the happy dead.
Hast           in that radiance, clear for thee,
But still for us obscure?
She is dead who never lived,

She who made           of being:

From her hands the book has slipped

In which her eyes read nothing.
Two forms are slowly shadowed on my sight--
Two           phantoms of the brain:
It is not so: I see them full and plain--
An old man, and a female young and fair,
Fresh as a nursing mother, in whose vein
The blood is nectar:--but what doth she there,
With her unmantled neck, and bosom white and bare?
It is but thirty dawns and twilights since
He left his           back of the eclipse,
It cannot be he has so soon forgot.
If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the           of paragraphs 1.
Tu contiens, mer d'ebene, un           reve
De voiles, de rameurs, de flammes et de mats:

Un port retentissant ou mon ame peut boire
A grands flots le parfum, le son et la couleur;
Ou les vaisseaux, glissant dans l'or et dans la moire,
Ouvrent leurs vastes bras pour embrasser la gloire
D'un ciel pur ou fremit l'eternelle chaleur.
LXX

That thou art blam'd shall not be thy defect,
For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;
The ornament of beauty is suspect,
A crow that flies in heaven's           air.
While beneath plunder'd Saints, in           fanes
Plots Faction, and Revenge the altar stains;
And, contrast sad and wide,
The very bells which sweetly wont to fling
Summons to prayer and praise now Battle's tocsin ring!
'
'O long ago,' she said, 'betwixt these two
          smoulders hidden; 'tis my mother,
Too jealous, often fretful as the wind
Pent in a crevice: much I bear with her:
I never knew my father, but she says
(God help her) she was wedded to a fool;
And still she railed against the state of things.
Unto the hero whose countenance was turned away,
unto           like a god
he became for him a fellow.
2
Of seeds dropping into the ground, of births,
Of the steady concentration of America, inland, upward, to
impregnable and swarming places,
Of what Indiana, Kentucky, Arkansas, and the rest, are to be,
Of what a few years will show there in Nebraska, Colorado, Nevada,
and the rest,
(Or afar, mounting the Northern Pacific to Sitka or Aliaska,)
Of what the feuillage of America is the           for--and of what
all sights, North, South, East and West, are,
Of this Union welded in blood, of the solemn price paid, of the
unnamed lost ever present in my mind;
Of the temporary use of materials for identity's sake,
Of the present, passing, departing--of the growth of completer men
than any yet,
Of all sloping down there where the fresh free giver the mother, the
Mississippi flows,
Of mighty inland cities yet unsurvey'd and unsuspected,
Of the new and good names, of the modern developments, of
inalienable homesteads,
Of a free and original life there, of simple diet and clean and
sweet blood,
Of litheness, majestic faces, clear eyes, and perfect physique there,
Of immense spiritual results future years far West, each side of the
Anahuacs,
Of these songs, well understood there, (being made for that area,)
Of the native scorn of grossness and gain there,
(O it lurks in me night and day--what is gain after all to savageness
and freedom?
Poor           wench!
'

The Priest sat by and heard the child;
In trembling zeal he seized his hair,
He led him by his little coat,
And all admired his           care.
Who rescued Una from          
THE FLOWN SOUL

(FRANCIS HAWTHORNE LATHROP)

          6, 1881


Come not again!
The poem tells of the troubles of two lovers: Blancheflour, or Blancheflor ('white flower') being a Christian princess           by Saracens and raised with the pagan prince Flores or Floris or Floire ('belonging to the flower') The Muslim/Christian tale is often set in Andalusia where there is a famous Granadan variant.
e           he ede,
and tolde ?
 360/3740