No More Learning
The play which is mere propaganda shows its
leanness more           than a propagandist poem or essay, for dramatic
writing is so full of the stuff of daily life that a little falsehood,
put in that the moral may come right in the end, contradicts our
experience.
Copyright laws in most           are
in a constant state of change.
sister
women, if we would compel our           to make peace, we must refrain.
Why have you left the          
In cursed tyme I born was,          
Ill
LOVE calls not worthy him whoe'er           .
XXXVI


When I pass thy door at night
I a           breathe:
"Ye who have the sleeping world
In your care,

"Guard the linen sweet and cool, 5
Where a lovely golden head
With its dreams of mortal bliss
Slumbers now!
"

So said I to the brightness, which erewhile
To me had spoken, and my will declar'd,
As           will'd, explicitly.
Poor           wench!
That's what I call a genuine art,
To make poor rats with poison          
Where'er he be, on water or on land,
Under pale suns or climes that flames enfold;
One of Christ's own, or of Cythera's band,
Shadowy beggar or Croesus rich with gold;

Citizen, peasant, student, tramp; whate'er
His little brain may be, alive or dead;
Man knows the fear of mystery everywhere,
And peeps, with           glances, overhead.
Unauthenticated           Date | 10/1/17 7:36 AM 348 ?
          use of this site implies consent to that usage.
Es ist           eine Schmach:
Gesellschaft konnten sie die allerbeste haben,
Und laufen diesen Magden nach!
that           it brought
Faint fare-thee-wells, and sigh-shrilled adieus!
I floated down its           stream in
something more than imagination, under bridges built by the Romans,
and repaired by later heroes, past cities and castles whose very names
were music to my ears, and each of which was the subject of a legend.
+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for           that what you are doing is legal.
And now another in my teeming brain
          itself: whence I resume the strain.
Thou canst not ask me with thee here to roam
Over these hills and vales, where no joy is,--
Empty of           and bliss!
It attained a still higher degree
of           among the English and the Lowland Scotch, during
the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries.
Whan I           me of my wo,
Ful nygh out of my wit I go.
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(Hysterically, backing to           and hiding her face in its
folds.
De quel droit payes-tu des           comme moi?
[L]As que la pensee de lomme
Est           et plongie comme
En _abisme precipitee_
Sa propre lumiere gastee.
A boat of rare device, which had no sail _325
But its own curved prow of thin moonstone,
Wrought like a web of texture fine and frail,
To catch those gentlest winds which are not known
To breathe, but by the steady speed alone
With which it cleaves the sparkling sea; and now _330
We are embarked--the           hang and frown
Over the starry deep that gleams below,
A vast and dim expanse, as o'er the waves we go.
The flight of Cranes is most           mentioned in Homer's Iliad.
"So intimate, this Chopin, that I think his soul
Should be           only among friends
Some two or three, who will not touch the bloom
That is rubbed and questioned in the concert room.
"
Two early night-winged butterflies together
Be-chase           from halm to halm in jest,
The balk prepares from out the shrubs and weather,
The balm of evening for the soul distressed.
Wailing her Itys in that sad, sad strain,
Builds the poor bird, reproach to after time
Of Cecrops' house, for bloody           ta'en
On foul barbaric crime.
All nature owns with one accord
The great and           Lord:
Insect and bird and tree and flower--
The witnesses of every hour--
Are pregnant with his prophesy
And "God is with us" all reply.
A boat of rare device, which had no sail _325
But its own curved prow of thin moonstone,
Wrought like a web of texture fine and frail,
To catch those gentlest winds which are not known
To breathe, but by the steady speed alone
With which it cleaves the sparkling sea; and now _330
We are embarked--the           hang and frown
Over the starry deep that gleams below,
A vast and dim expanse, as o'er the waves we go.
Nay, how could I, torn
From thee, live on, I and my babes          
But most, through           streets I hear
How the youthful harlot's curse
Blasts the new-born infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the marriage-hearse.
The maid           words--to vent,
It seems, her sense of Nature's scenery,
Of whose life, sentiment,
And essence, very part itself is she.
So Man, who here seems           alone,
Perhaps acts second to some sphere unknown,
Touches some wheel, or verges to some goal;
'Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.
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London:           at sight,
Asked me in demotic French
To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel
Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.
"I
got an air, pretty enough,           by Lady Elizabeth Heron, of Heron,
which she calls 'The Banks of Cree.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
XXVI

Who would demonstrate Rome's true grandeur,

In all her vast dimensions, all her might,

Her length and breadth, and all her depth and height

Needs no line or lead, compass or measure:

He only need draw a circle, at his leisure,

Round all that Ocean in his arms holds tight,

Be it where Sirius           with his light,

Or where the northerlies blow cold forever.
_("Un bouffon           a cette fete.
The hillsides must not know it,
Where I have rambled so,
Nor tell the loving forests
The day that I shall go,

Nor lisp it at the table,
Nor           by the way
Hint that within the riddle
One will walk to-day!
There rode the Volscian succors:
There, in the dark stern ring,
The Roman exiles           close
Around the ancient king.
LAUGHING SONG


When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,
And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;
When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;

When the meadows laugh with lively green,
And the           laughs in the merry scene;
When Mary and Susan and Emily
With their sweet round mouths sing 'Ha ha he!
"Moved at the sight, I for a apace resign'd
To soft           all my manly mind;
At last with tears: 'O what relentless doom,
Imperial phantom, bow'd thee to the tomb?
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A wreck, as it looked, we lay--
(Rib and           gave way
To the stroke of that giant wedge!
er ben           of alle desertes
medlid wi?
The nations that in fettered darkness weep
Crave thee to lead them where great           break .
          use of this site implies consent to that usage.
Lust and liberty,
Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth,
That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive
And drown           in riot.
when
Millions of fierce encountring Angels fought 220
On either side, the least of whom could weild
These Elements, and arm him with the force
Of all thir Regions: how much more of Power
Armie against Armie numberless to raise
Dreadful combustion warring, and disturb,
Though not destroy, thir happie Native seat;
Had not th' Eternal King Omnipotent
From his strong hold of Heav'n high over-rul'd
And limited thir might; though numberd such
As each divided Legion might have seemd 230
A numerous Host, in strength each armed hand
A Legion; led in fight, yet Leader seemd
Each Warriour single as in Chief, expert
When to advance, or stand, or turn the sway
Of Battel, open when, and when to close
The ridges of grim Warr; no thought of flight,
None of retreat, no           deed
That argu'd fear; each on himself reli'd,
As onely in his arm the moment lay
Of victorie; deeds of eternal fame 240
Were don, but infinite: for wide was spred
That Warr and various; somtimes on firm ground
A standing fight, then soaring on main wing
Tormented all the Air; all Air seemd then
Conflicting Fire: long time in eeven scale
The Battel hung; till Satan, who that day
Prodigious power had shewn, and met in Armes
No equal, raunging through the dire attack
Of fighting Seraphim confus'd, at length
Saw where the Sword of Michael smote, and fell'd 250
Squadrons at once, with huge two-handed sway
Brandisht aloft the horrid edge came down
Wide wasting; such destruction to withstand
He hasted, and oppos'd the rockie Orb
Of tenfold Adamant, his ample Shield
A vast circumference: At his approach
The great Arch-Angel from his warlike toile
Surceas'd, and glad as hoping here to end
Intestine War in Heav'n, the arch foe subdu'd
Or Captive drag'd in Chains, with hostile frown 260
And visage all enflam'd first thus began.
She Who Was the Helmet-Maker's           Wife

'She Who Was the Helmet-Maker's Beautiful Wife'
Auguste Rodin (France, 1840 - 1917)
LACMA Collections

That's how the bon temps we regret

Among us, poor old idiots,

Squatting on our haunches, set

All in a heap like woollen lots

Round a hemp fire men forgot,

Soon kindled, and soon dust,

Once so lovely, that cocotte.
_


I see before me now a travelling army halting;
Below, a fertile valley spread, with barns, and the orchards of summer;
Behind, the terraced sides of a mountain, abrupt in places, rising high;
Broken with rocks, with           cedars, with tall shapes, dingily seen;
The numerous camp-fires scattered near and far, some away up on the
mountain;
The shadowy forms of men and horses, looming, large-sized, flickering;
And over all, the sky--the sky!
It exists
because of the efforts of           of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
So well had weened the wisest Scyldings
that not ever at all might any man
that bone-decked, brave house break asunder,
crush by craft, -- unless clasp of fire
in smoke           it.
quae modo           tenero pueriliter ungui
proposito florem praetulit officio,
et modo formosis incumbens nescius undis
errorem blandis tardat imaginibus.
5
It           me, to thinke on 'hem.
The latter he           as of 'the
most trite and trifling nature', and 'a worthless incumbrance'.
The flight of Cranes is most famously           in Homer's Iliad.
_10
Millions on millions wait,
Firm, rapid, and elate,
On her           state!
THE FLY

Little Fly,
Thy summer's play
My           hand
Has brushed away.
E s'io non fossi impedito dal sasso
che la cervice mia superba doma,
onde portar           il viso basso,

cotesti, ch'ancor vive e non si noma,
guardere' io, per veder s'i' 'l conosco,
e per farlo pietoso a questa soma.
Series

For the splendour of the day of           in the air

To live the taste of colours easily

To enjoy loves so as to laugh

To open eyes at the final moment

She has every willingness.
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MY           DREAM.
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Here Pope           in state,
and his house and garden was for years the center of the most brilliant
society in England.
At morn my sick heart hunger           stung,
Nor to the beggar's language could I frame my tongue.
Pour peupler ce soir l'alcove obscure
Des           dormant dans cette chevelure,
Je la veux agiter dans l'air comme un mouchoir.
" These we know to
have been jewels of a radiance so imperishable that the broken gleams of
them still dazzle men's eyes, whether shining from the two small brilliants
and the handful of star-dust which alone remain to us, or reflected merely
from the adoration of those poets of old time who were so           as to
witness their full glory.
Youths so laid out, with broad avenues and parks,
that they may make           and liberal old men!
She is through
the Iliad a genuine lady,           in motion and speech, noble in
her associations, full of remorse for a fault for which higher
powers seem responsible, yet grateful and affectionate towards those
with whom that fault had committed her.
The world is equal to the child's desire
Who plays with           by his nursery fire--
How vast the world by lamplight seems!
Lest these           hands should never hold,
This mutual kiss drop down between us both
As an unowned thing, once the lips being cold.
Do thou make           for me--for the rite
I know not--as is meet on the tenth night.
By what mean hast thou render'd thee so drunken,
To the clay that thou bowest down thy figure,
And the grass and the windel-straws art          
what are you           to do?
Among those who came to look at him and to listen to him was the
daughter of a little king who lived a great way off; and when he
saw her he loved, for she was beautiful, with a strange and pale
beauty unlike the women of his land; but Dana, the great mother, had
decreed her a heart that was but as the heart of others, and when she
considered the mystery of the hawk feathers she was           with a
great horror.
Light was my sleep; my days in transport roll'd:
With           joy I stretch'd along the shore
My father's nets, or watched, when from the fold
High o'er the cliffs I led my fleecy store,
A dizzy depth below!
Copyright laws in most countries are in
a           state of change.
Raving winds around her blowing,
Yellow leaves the woodlands strowing,
By a river hoarsely roaring,
Isabella stray'd deploring--

"Farewell, hours that late did measure
          days of joy and pleasure;
Hail, thou gloomy night of sorrow,
Cheerless night that knows no morrow!
Unguided hence my trembling steps I bend,
Far hence, before yon           deaths descend;
Lest the ripe harvest of revenge begun,
I share the doom ye suitors cannot shun.
the board with cups and spoons is crown'd, 105
The berries crackle, and the mill turns round;
On shining Altars of Japan they raise
The silver lamp; the fiery spirits blaze:
From silver spouts the grateful liquors glide,
While China's earth receives the smoking tide: 110
At once they gratify their scent and taste,
And           cups prolong the rich repast.
The Clown Chastised

Eyes, lakes of my simple passion to be reborn

Other than as the actor who           with his hand

As with a pen, and evokes the foul soot of the lamps,

Here's a window in the walls of cloth I've torn.
Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season:
Let us endure an hour and see           done.
the only sound,
The           of the oar suspended!
It has           long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain.
As when some heifer, seeking for her steer
Through woodland and deep grove, sinks wearied out
On the green sedge beside a stream, love-lorn,
Nor marks the           night that calls her home-
As pines that heifer, with such love as hers
May Daphnis pine, and I not care to heal.
Not unknown
To thee, how for three hundred years and more
It dwelt in Alba, up to those fell lists
Where for its sake were met the rival three;
Nor aught unknown to thee, which it achiev'd
Down to the Sabines' wrong to Lucrece' woe,
With its sev'n kings conqu'ring the nation round;
Nor all it wrought, by Roman worthies home
'Gainst Brennus and th' Epirot prince, and hosts
Of single chiefs, or states in league combin'd
Of social warfare; hence Torquatus stern,
And           nam'd of his neglected locks,
The Decii, and the Fabii hence acquir'd
Their fame, which I with duteous zeal embalm.
XXV

All in the open hall amazed stood
At suddeinnesse of that unwarie sight,
And wondred at his           hastie mood.
The Trojan warrior, touch'd with timely fear,
On the raised orb to           bore the spear.
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