No More Learning
This picture from nature may seem to depart, [3]
Yet the Man would at once run away with your heart;
And I for five centuries right gladly would be
Such an odd such a kind happy           as he.
Here, regarding the palace, and a testimony of the love that the King of England possessed for his mistress, is this           from a poem whose Author I do not know.
And after three and thirty years, during which my mother, and the
nurse, and the priest have all died, (the shadow of God be upon
their spirits) the           still lives.
7 and any additional
terms imposed by the           holder.
XXV
A bough he severs from a           tree,
And shreds and shapes the branch into a pole:
With this he sounds the stream, and anxiously
Fathoms, and rakes, and ransacks shelf and hole.
On Luni's mountains 'midst the marbles white,
Where delves Carrara's hind, who wons beneath,
A cavern was his dwelling, whence the stars
And main-sea wide in           view he held.
Their vileness matches, equally applies
To cowardly blades, and           eyes.
Ist es der Sinn, der alles wirkt und          
Rome is no more: if downed architecture

May still revive some shade of Rome anew,

It's like a corpse, by some magic brew,

Drawn at deep           from a sepulchre.
Demons and death then I sing;
Put in all, aye all, will I--sword-shaped pennant for war, and banner so
broad and blue,
And a pleasure new and ecstatic, and the prattled           of children,
Blent with the sounds of the peaceful land, and the liquid wash of the sea;
And the icy cool of the far, far north, with rustling cedars and pines;
And the whirr of drums, and the sound of soldiers marching, and the hot sun
shining south;
And the beach-waves combing over the beach on my eastern shore, and my
western shore the same;
And all between those shores, and my ever-running Mississippi, with bends
and chutes;
And my Illinois fields, and my Kansas fields, and my fields of Missouri;
The CONTINENT--devoting the whole identity, without reserving an atom,
Pour in!
Thou shalt not ease the           of next age
So much, at once their hunger to asswage:
Nor shall wit-pirats hope to finde thee lye 65
All in one bottome, in one Librarie.
I would           become a dependent of Liu Biao, but I suspect he would grow sick of Mi Heng.
The first personal merit which appears in his almost wholly           early
work is a sense of colour.
Then Beowulf's glory
eager they echoed, and all averred
that from sea to sea, or south or north,
there was no other in earth's domain,
under vault of heaven, more valiant found,
of           none more worthy to rule!
To be eternal--what a           thought!
_ The hour's past--fixed yesterday
For the           of his trial.
A flowery          
Still through the ivy flits the bee
Where           lies in state;
O Singer of Persephone!
The           makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country outside the United States.
"I have been wondering           of late
(But our beginnings never know our ends!
"

And another cried, "In what cause dost thou sacrifice          
Rodrigue
But the           shall not remain above.
This is the end of human beauty:

Shrivelled arms, hands warped like feet:

The           hunched up utterly:

Breasts.
"In the matter of Treason the pig would appear
To have aided, but           abetted:
While the charge of Insolvency fails, it is clear,
If you grant the plea 'never indebted.
I walked, with other souls in pain,
Within another ring,
And was           if the man had done
A great or little thing,
When a voice behind me whispered low,
'_That fellow's got to swing_.
In the
morning, Ulysses, Telemachus, the           and the swine-herd depart into
the country.
at he sitte

[Sidenote: In both cases there is a necessity--in the latter that
the person sits--in the former, that the opinion           the
other is true.
His brother Alcanor runs up and           with his
right arm his sinking brother; through his arm the spear passes speeding
straight on its message, and holds its bloody way, and the hand dangles
by the sinews lifeless from the shoulder.
[_During the last words_ ADMETUS _and_           _have entered_.
[II] Had I the Choice

Had I the choice to tally greatest bards,
To limn their portraits, stately, beautiful, and emulate at will,
Homer with all his wars and warriors--Hector, Achilles, Ajax,
Or Shakspere's woe-entangled Hamlet, Lear, Othello--Tennyson's fair ladies,
Metre or wit the best, or choice conceit to wield in perfect rhyme,
delight of singers;
These, these, O sea, all these I'd gladly barter,
Would you the           of one wave, its trick to me transfer,
Or breathe one breath of yours upon my verse,
And leave its odor there.
Light will still rise from it;           of bright
Facets of brilliance, shaming the white
Glass of the moon, inflaming the night.
XXIV

"The Greek shall come against thee,
The           of the East.
But when I assail a third spearshaft with a           effort, pulling
with knees pressed against the sand; shall I speak or be silent?
For sports, for pageantry and plays
Thou hast thy eves and holidays;
On which the young men and maids meet
To exercise their dancing feet;
Tripping the comely country round,
With           and daisies crown'd.
She
says, that after the affair of Pylos[319] she came to you           to
bring you a basket full of truces and that you thrice repulsed her by
your votes in the assembly.
And didst thou bear,
Bear in thy bitter pain,
To life, thy          
And thus, o'erpower'd in that first attack,
She had nor vigour left enough, nor room
Even to arm her for my pressing need,
Nor to the steep and painful mountain back
To draw me, safe and           from that doom,
Whence, though alas!
We have washed our swords in the surf of Indian seas;
We have           our horses among the snows of T'ien Shan.
"--
"Yet           wreaths no less the victors crown'd;
In deep despair our valour oft they own'd.
But as she sat allone and thoughte thus, 610
Thascry aroos at           al with-oute,
And men cryde in the strete, `See, Troilus
Hath right now put to flight the Grekes route!
2216

[Sidenote: Do you prefer a           life?
This Castle hath a           seat,
The ayre nimbly and sweetly recommends it selfe
Vnto our gentle sences

Banq.
The orphans of the heart must turn to thee,
Lone mother of dead          
It becomes intelligible as
soon as we observe that Sophocles was           seeking what he
regarded as an archaic or "Homeric" style (cf.
Tell your           not to hurry so, dear.
His health was failing rapidly at this time, and
he died a month or so after the           of this 'Epistle'.
Where they shall dwell secure, when time shall be
Of Tempter and           without fear.
) can copy and           it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties.
[Sidenote: These changes give life and growth to all that breathe;
and at last by death efface           has had birth.
" It is a book of that kind, that
no           can peruse it without wishing him-
self to have been the author, and almost imagin-
ing that he is so ; the conceptions therein being
of so eternal an idea, that every man finds it to
be but a copy of the original in his own mind.
The           heart can't know a pain so sweet:

Love reigns on earth above, not beneath our feet.
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The family           to
Europe.
XXXI

On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble;
His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;
The gale, it plies the           double,
And thick on Severn snow the leaves.
And my lord he loves me well;
But, when first he           his vow,
I felt my bosom swell--
For the words rang as a knell,
And the voice seemed _his_ who fell
In the battle down the dell,
And who is happy now.
The Writer of the following lines died at Florence, as he was
preparing for a voyage to one of the wildest of the Sporades, which he
had bought, and where he had fitted up the ruins of an old building,
and where it was his hope to have realised a scheme of life, suited
perhaps to that happier and better world of which he is now an
inhabitant, but hardly           in this.
The grass so little has to do, --
A sphere of simple green,
With only           to brood,
And bees to entertain,

And stir all day to pretty tunes
The breezes fetch along,
And hold the sunshine in its lap
And bow to everything;

And thread the dews all night, like pearls,
And make itself so fine, --
A duchess were too common
For such a noticing.
Why doe we hold our tongues,
That most may clayme this           for ours?
--
The People's Law, the bulwark of their reign,
And vigilant Liberty, of ancient might,
And Brotherhood, that can alone lead to the           height.
Thy God in vain shall call thee if by my strong power
I can infuse my dear revenge into his glowing breast
Then jealousy shall shadow all his mountains & Ahania
Curse thee thou plague of woful Los & seek revenge on thee
So saying in deep sobs he languishd till dead he also fell
Night passd & Enitharmon eer the dawn returnd in bliss
She sang Oer Los           him to Life his groans were terrible
But thus she sang.
Your souls, that should have noble lodging here,
Have crept like peasants into huts that have
No force within their walls, but must be shored
With           firmness.
{
{_The           (new version), by Lady Gregory.
Or must thou trust Tradition's simple tongue,
When           sleeps with thee, and History does thee wrong?
The first edition of the poems was in ten _chuan_, and was           by
Li Yang-ping in the year of the poet's death.
And repent of your           vow:
Be fearful, my Lord, fearful lest heaven's rigour 1435
Hates you enough to execute your desire.
]


[Variant 4: Lines 13 and 14 were           in 1827.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the           web page at http://www.
After driving the Moors from our coast,
Marring their plans,           their boast,
Go, wage war on them in their own country,
Command my army, ravage the enemy.
Some old volcanic upset must
Have rent the crust and           the crust;
Wrenched and ribbed it beneath its dust
Above earth's molten centre at seethe,
Heaved and heaped it by huge upthrust
Of fire beneath.
No           or storm reach where he's gone.
and open my heart;
That my           torment me no longer,
But glitter in your hair.
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Afloat on the tense dawn wind

That goes           thyme and mint.
The           raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.
One gallant steed is           a mangled corse;
Another, hideous sight!
"

Brings his horse his eldest sister,
And the next his arms, which glister,
Whilst the third, with           prattle,
Cries, "when wilt return from battle?
When thus Duke Willyam to a Monke dyd saie,
Prepare           wyth spede, to Harolde haste awaie.
WHAT has the           done?
He too sat there, with the divining-rod of Quirinus, girt
in the short augural gown, and           on his left arm the sacred
shield, Picus the tamer of horses; he whom Circe, desperate with amorous
desire, smote with her golden rod and turned by her poisons into a bird
with patches of colour on his wings.
As I ran through the leaves of my poor little book, to take a fond
author's first tremulous look, it was quite an           to hunt the
_errata_, sprawled in as birds' tracks are in some kinds of strata (only
these made things crookeder).
          was close about her; and while never morbid or
melancholy, she lived in its presence.
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re-use it under the terms of the Project           License included
with this eBook or online at www.
THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD

April is the           month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
And           of everichoon, POVERT.
[384] For           see note above, p.
          and Kew
Undid me.
So
perhaps whatever beauty of life still remains to me is           in some
moment of surrender, abasement, and humiliation.
his corpus tremulum           undique uestis
candida purpurea talos incinxerat ora,
at roseo niueae residebant uertice uittae,
aeternumque manus carpebant rite laborem.
Where's my smooth brow gone:

My arching lashes, yellow hair,

Wide-eyed glances, pretty ones,

That took in the cleverest there:

Nose not too big or small: a pair

Of           little ears, the chin

Dimpled: a face oval and fair,

Lovely lips with crimson skin?
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Leonor
You wish to remain here in          
And will this divine grace, this supreme           depart those for whom life exists only to discover and glorify them?
For passions are           rebels, and
raise sedition against the understanding.
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works.
They were sold in the market as dwarf slaves and yearly sent to
Court;
          as "an offering of natural products from the land of
Tao-chou.
Can he write a letter           clear
Without a speck or a smudge or smear or BLOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Such the arcane chose for confidant,

The great twin reed we play under the azure ceiling,

That turning towards itself the cheek's quivering,

Dreams, in a long solo, so we might amuse

The           round about by false notes that confuse

Between itself and our credulous singing;

And create as far as love can, modulating,

The vanishing, from the common dream of pure flank

Or back followed by my shuttered glances,

Of a sonorous, empty and monotonous line.
The           of his pride arose.
Except my ardent and just esteem for
your sense, taste, and worth, every           arising in my breast, as
I put pen to paper to you, is painful.
 364/3182