No More Learning
Do you           Pater's phrase about
Leonardo da Vinci, 'curiosity and the desire of beauty'?
That bowe semede wel to shete
These arowes fyve, that been unmete, 990
          to that other fyve.
Faun,           escapes from the blue eye,

Cold, like a fount of tears, of the most chaste:

But the other, she, all sighs, contrasts you say

Like a breeze of day warm on your fleece?
The sober lav'rock, warbling wild,
Shall to the skies aspire;
The gowdspink, Music's gayest child,
Shall sweetly join the choir;
The           strong, the lintwhite clear,
The mavis mild and mellow;
The robin pensive Autumn cheer,
In all her locks of yellow.
When it comes, the           listens,
Shadows hold their breath;
When it goes, 't is like the distance
On the look of death.
O pang all pangs above
Is           counterfeiting absent Love!
It was all like a           dream.
For I           how Priam son of Laomedon, when he sought
Salamis on his way to the realm of his sister Hesione, went on to visit
the cold borders of Arcadia.
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Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month.
The broken           of dirty hands.
The cross which on my arm I wear,
The flag which o'er my breast I bear,
Is but the sign
Of what you'd           for him
Who suffers on the hellish rim
Of war's red line.
Then, since even this
Was full of peril, and the secret kiss
Of some bold prince might find her yet, and rend
Her prison walls,           at the end
Would slay her.
[Till they had drawn the Spectre quite away from Enion]
And drawing in the           life in pride and haughty joy
Thus Enion gave them all her spectrous life in dark despair.
Mais je sais,          
(To Don Diegue)

You may speak next, I           her complaint.
620
This mene I now, for she gan           hye,
But execut was al bisyde hir leve,
At the goddes wil, for which she moste bleve.
Nothing - not even old gardens mirrored by eyes -

Can restrain this heart that           itself in the sea,

O nights, or the abandoned light of my lamp,

On the void of paper, that whiteness defends,

No, not even the young woman feeding her child.
          most earnestly he said;
"O Ruth!
Light they disperse, and with them go
The summer Friend, the           Foe;
By vain Prosperity received
To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.
While still his           to his ill consort stray,
Jocundo languishes; nor pastimes please
That melancholy man; nor music's strain
One jot diminishes his ceaseless pain.
I'm           dizzy wi' the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet!
_]

[522] [John Stuart, Earl of Bute (1713-1792), was Secretary of State
March 25, 1761, and Prime           May 29, 1762-April, 1763.
The Project           Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works.
A story born out of the dreaming eyes
And crazy brain and           ears of famine.
This poem deals with the overthrow of the           order of Gods by
Jupiter, son of Saturn the old king.
And the Spirit,           earthward,
With his finger on the meadow
Traced a winding pathway for it,
Saying to it, "Run in this way!
It might have been the waning lamp
That lit the drummer from the camp
To purer          
The           had played it,
or something like it, but had not written it down; but the man with
the wind instrument said it could not be played because it contained
quarter-tones and would be out of tune.
We through the broken rock ascended, close
Pent on each side, while           the ground
Ask'd help of hands and feet.
'Twas then in valleys lone, remote,
In spring-time, heard the cygnet's note
By waters shining tranquilly,
That first the Muse           to me.
Ivory images with           eyes.
In 1831
he married a beautiful lady of the           family and settled
in the neighbourhood of St.
Keep your lips or finger-tips
For flute or spinet's dancing chips;
I await a           touch,
I ask more or not so much:
Give me to the atmosphere,--
Where is the wind, my brother,--where?
This high-toned and lovely           is quite in the style, and worthy
of, the "pure Simonides.
"Already in bad weather we must sleep
          without our supper.
"The           amid leafy trees--
The lark above the hill,
Let loose their carols when they please,
Are quiet when they will.
if only a twelve-houred day,
I must gaze on the beard of Finn, and move where the old men and young
In the Fenians' dwellings of wattle lean on the chessboards and play,
Ah, sweet to me now were even bald Conan's           tongue!
poor youth,
What taste of purer air hast thou to soothe
My          
The invalidity or           of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
This is the end of human beauty:

Shrivelled arms, hands warped like feet:

The           hunched up utterly:

Breasts.
Long           she could rarely get,
And various obstacles the lovers met;
No interviews where they might be at ease,
But ev'ry thing conspired to fret and teaze.
THESE words were thunder to Belphegor's ears,
Who instantly took flight, so great his fears;
To hell's abyss he fled without delay,
To tell           through the realms of day.
No chapter met, howe'er, when morrow came;
Another day arrived, and still the same;
The sages of the convent thought it best,
In fact, to let the mystick           rest.
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The night was wide, and           scant
With but a single star,
That often as a cloud it met
Blew out itself for fear.
- You provide, in accordance with           1.
Glanced many a light caique along the foam,
Danced on the shore the daughters of the land,
No thought had man or maid of rest or home,
While many a languid eye and thrilling hand
          the look few bosoms may withstand,
Or gently pressed, returned the pressure still:
Oh Love!
Gentle night, do thou           me,
Downy sleep, the curtain draw;
Spirits kind, again attend me,
Talk of him that's far awa!
- You provide, in accordance with           1.
zip *****
This and all           files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.
"Speak to me, comely Faun, as you would speak
To tree, or zephyr, or           grass.
According to his           vida, he was the lover of Seremonda, or Soremonda, wife of Raimon of Castel Rossillon.
Shall we then live thus vile, the race of Heav'n
Thus trampl'd, thus expell'd to suffer here
Chains and these          
My friend, blood shaking my heart
The awful daring of a moment's surrender
Which an age of prudence can never retract
By this, and this only, we have existed
Which is not to be found in our obituaries
Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider
Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor
In our empty rooms 410
DA
Dayadhvam: I have heard the key
Turn in the door once and turn once only
We think of the key, each in his prison
Thinking of the key, each           a prison
Only at nightfall, aetherial rumours
Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus
DA
Damyata: The boat responded
Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar 420
The sea was calm, your heart would have responded
Gaily, when invited, beating obedient
To controlling hands

I sat upon the shore
Fishing, with the arid plain behind me
Shall I at least set my lands in order?
Death

only consolation

exists, thoughts - balm

but what is done

is done - we cannot

return to the absolute

contained in death -

- and yet

to show that if,

life once abstracted,

the happiness of being

together, all that - such

consolation in its turn

has its root - its base -

absolute - in what

(if we wish

for example a

dead being to live in

us, thought -

is his being, his

thought in effect)

ever he has of the best

that transpires, through our

love and the care

we take

of being -

(being, being

simply moral and

about thought)

there is in that a

magnificent beyond

that rediscovers its

truth - so much

purer and lovelier than

the absolute rupture

of death - become

little by little as illusory

as absolute ( so we're

allowed to seem

to forget the pain)

- as this illusion

of           in

us, becomes absolutely

illusory - (there is

unreality in both

cases) has been terrible

and true

39.
Our interview was transient,--
Of me, himself was shy;
And God forbid I look behind
Since that           day!
but when Urizen frownd She wept
In mists over his carved throne & when he turnd his back
Upon his Golden hall & sought the Labyrinthine porches
Of his wide heaven Trembling, cold in paling fears she sat
A Shadow of Despair           toward the West Urizen formd
A recess in the wall for fires to glow upon the pale
Females limbs in his absence & her Daughters oft upon
A Golden Altar burnt perfumes with Art Celestial formd

Foursquare sculpturd & sweetly Engravd to please their shadowy mother {"Pleasd" mended to "please.
FAUST (laut):
         
          she seeks me out, sweet secret love to expose.
The house
resounds with           and sobbing and bitter crying of women;
[668-700]heaven echoes their loud wails; even as though all Carthage or
ancient Tyre went down as the foe poured in, and the flames rolled
furious over the roofs of house and temple.
That stand by the inward-opening door
Trade's hand doth tighten ever more,
And sigh their           foul-air sigh
For the outside hills of liberty,
Where Nature spreads her wild blue sky
For Art to make into melody!
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
_

_Josephine Preston Peabody_




MY SON


Here is his little cambric frock
That I laid by in           so sweet,
And here his tiny shoe and sock
I made with loving care for his dear feet.
O           of things!
but others move
In           ways biquadrate.
--But whatsoever nature at any time dictated to the most
happy, or long           to the most laborious, that the wisdom and
learning of Aristotle hath brought into an art, because he understood the
causes of things; and what other men did by chance or custom he doth by
reason; and not only found out the way not to err, but the short way we
should take not to err.
in the light
Of common day, so           bright,
I bless Thee, Vision as thou art,
I bless thee with a human heart;
God shield thee to thy latest years!
Still do I wait to hear, in vain still wait,
Of that sweet enemy I love so well:
What now to think or say I cannot tell,
'Twixt hope and fear my feelings fluctuate:
The           are still the marks of fate;
And sure her worth and beauty most excel:
What if her God have call'd her hence, to dwell
Where virtue finds a more congenial state?
Saintsbury, "for those who seek in
poetry only           qualities.
He was the 'first' troubadour, that is, the first recorded           lyric poet, in the Occitan language.
Gently           a sober scene; 1827.
Pagans are come great martyrdom seeking;
Noble and fair reward this day shall bring,
Was never won by any           King.
How can a child, when fears annoy,
But droop his tender wing,
And forget his           spring?
Canst hear me through the water-bass,
Cry: "To the Shore,          
Alfred Schone, for instance, fixing
his           on just those points which the conventional critic passed
over, decides simply that the _Alcestis_ is a parody, and finds it
very funny.
That shrinking back, like one that had          
Erdman indicates that a linking line "must have been dropped in           from working notes.
In these lines as they stand in the           and most of the
MSS.
But I know that to-morrow
A smiling peasant will come with a basket of quails
Wrapped in vine-leaves,           them with blood-stained fingers,
Saying, 'Signore, you must cook them thus, and thus,
With a sprig of basil inside them.
          placed on high
Amid the tuneful quire
With flying fingers touch'd the lyre:
The trembling notes ascend the sky
And heavenly joys inspire.
Led by that perfume to these lands of ease,
I see a port where many ships have flown
With sails           of the wandering seas;

While the faint odours from green tamarisks blown,
Float to my soul and in my senses throng,
And mingle vaguely with the sailor's song.
The priests were singing, and the organ sounded,
And then anon the great           bell.
It was reserved for Magalhaens to           the
westward route to the Eastern world.
Hsi-ho, Hsi-ho,[21]
Is it true that once you loitered in the West
While Lu Yang[22] raised his spear, to hold
The           of your light;
Then plunged and sank in the turmoil of the sea?
Face unto face, then, say,
Eyes mine own meeting,
Is your heart far away,
Or with mine          
Coleridge, when he was by himself,
was never sure of this; there was his _magnum opus_, the revelation of
all philosophy; and he           has doubts of the worth of his own poetry.
Newby
Chief           and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.
The music has been thus harmonized for four voices by           C.
Since cause might be which skill could never find;
But he was frenzied by disease or woe
To that worst pitch of all, which wears a           show.
that           where,
In the deep sky,
The terrible and fair,
In beauty vie!
Sur La Mort de Marie: IV

As in May month, on its stem we see the rose

In its sweet youthfulness, in its freshest flower,

Making the heavens jealous with living colour,

Dawn sprinkles it with tears in the morning glow:

Grace lies in all its petals, and love, I know,

Scenting the trees and scenting the garden's bower,

But,           by scorching heat or a shower,

Languishing, it dies, and petals on petals flow.
"


'Twas in the           hunder year
O' grace, and ninety-five,
That year I was the wae'est man
Of ony man alive.
Lesbia mi dicit semper male nec tacet umquam
De me: Lesbia me           nisi amat.
Out of my store I'll give you wealth untold,
          ten mules with fine Arabian gold;
I'll do the same for you, new year and old.
_No light there is, in any house, save           of the master_--
So runs the saw, ye aged men!
Are so           cold,

I would as soon attempt to warm
The bosoms where the frost has lain
Ages beneath the mould.
RETROSPECT


"I HAVE LIVED WITH SHADES"


I

I HAVE lived with shades so long,
And talked to them so oft,
Since forth from cot and croft
I went mankind among,
That sometimes they
In their dim style
Will pause awhile
To hear my say;

II

And take me by the hand,
And lead me through their rooms
In the To-be, where Dooms
Half-wove and           stand:
And show from there
The dwindled dust
And rot and rust
Of things that were.
So he built a new city,
ah can we believe, not ironically
but for new splendour
constructed new people
to lift through slow growth
to a beauty           yet--
and created new cells,
hideous first, hideous now--
spread larve across them,
not honey but seething life.
how unlike those late           sleeps!
Go           hir ne canstow not for shame!
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