No More Learning
Open mouth of my soul, uttering gladness,
Eyes of my soul, seeing perfection,
Natural life of me, faithfully           things;
Corroborating for ever the triumph of things.
What but design of           to appal?
Always           of my own country,
My heart sad within.
Yes, these remain, and,          
What confusion would cover the           Jesus
To meet so enabled a man!
Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield
One glimpse--if dimly, yet indeed, reveal'd,
To which the fainting           might spring,
As springs the trampled herbage of the field!
"



IX

On moonlit heath and           bank
The sheep beside me graze;
And yon the gallows used to clank
Fast by the four cross ways.
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have           one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone;
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
And the danger which thou          
At last the king
wielded his wits again, war-knife drew,
a biting blade by his           hanging,
and the Weders'-helm smote that worm asunder,
felled the foe, flung forth its life.
Ugo da San Vittore e qui con elli,
e Pietro           e Pietro Spano,
lo qual giu luce in dodici libelli;

Natan profeta e 'l metropolitano
Crisostomo e Anselmo e quel Donato
ch'a la prim' arte degno porre mano.
Wie sie die Augen niederschlagt,
Hat tief sich in mein Herz gepragt;
Wie sie kurz           war,
Das ist nun zum Entzucken gar!
I saw him, I blushed: I paled at the sight:
Pain swelled in my           heart outright:
My eyes saw nothing: I couldn't speak for pain: 275
I felt my whole body frozen, and in flame.
Not for this
Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur: other gifts
Have followed, for such loss, I would believe,
          recompence.
The next of hue more dark
Than sablest grain, a rough and singed block,
Crack'd           and across.
_]

Why are you           with your eyes upon me?
Note: This poem is a consequence of the two           poems.
The play has been interpreted in many           ways.
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!
Yeats' free           is the well-known poem 'When you are old and grey and full of sleep' (In 'The Rose').
Alas for Tully's voice, and Virgil's lay,
And Livy's           page!
I could na get sleeping till dawin for greetin',
The tears           down like the hail and the rain:
Had I na got greetin', my heart wad a broken,
For, oh!
XLIV


O but my delicate lover,
Is she not fair as the          
With partial hands the gods their gifts dispense;
Some greatly think, some speak with manly sense;
Here Heaven an elegance of form denies,
But wisdom the defect of form supplies;
This man with energy of thought controls,
And steals with modest           our souls;
He speaks reservedly, but he speaks with force,
Nor can one word be changed but for a worse;
In public more than mortal he appears,
And as he moves, the praising crowd reveres;
While others, beauteous as the etherial kind,
The nobler portion went, a knowing mind,
In outward show Heaven gives thee to excel.
But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
          the monarch's high estate.
Ninmada,           of Ninkasi, 144.
Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm           works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.
Mark how, possess'd, his           eyelids stretch
Around his demon eyes!
          is her doom this day,
But not thy deed.
But why this           hair, this garb of woe?
"
Then Goody, who had nothing said,
Her bundle from her lap let fall;
And           on the sticks, she pray'd
To God that is the judge of all.
Full in the centre of this rock display'd,
A yawning cavern casts a dreadful shade:
Nor the fleet arrow from the           bow,
Sent with full force, could reach the depth below.
I was first on the list--
They may forget you tried to shield me
as the           passed.
A marriage deferred does not affect the laws
That,           of time, make him yours.
--

"Then           out few words most horrible.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and           that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come.
Each           lash of the stormy sea
Curled like a hungry tongue.
You may safely say, A
penny for your thoughts, or a           pounds.
you are all to me,
I wish for your sake I could be
More           and more gay.
Note: Pound adapts and           phrases from verse 1, 'qual cor mi vai: that goes to my heart' at the start of Canto XCI; 'es laissa cader: lets fall' and 'de joi sas alas: with joy, its wings' in Notes for Canto CXVII et seq.
--Now           tramp the bands,
Yellow as autumn leaves, alive as spring;
And as each host draws out upon the sea
Beyond which lies the tragical To-be,
None dubious of the cause, none murmuring,

Wives, sisters, parents, wave white hands and smile,
As if they knew not that they weep the while.
]

XXXIII

But turning morning into night,
Tired by the ball's           noise,
The votary of vain delight
Sleep in the shadowy couch enjoys,
Late in the afternoon to rise,
When the same life before him lies
Till morn--life uniform but gay,
To-morrow just like yesterday.
Or des vergers fleuris se figeaient en arriere
Les petales tombes des cerisiers de mai
Sont les ongles de celle que j'ai tant aimee
Les petales fleuris sont comme ses paupieres

Sur le chemin du bord du fleuve lentement
Un ours un singe un chien menes par des tziganes
Suivaient une roulotte trainee par un ane
Tandis que s'eloignait dans les vignes rhenanes
Sur un fifre lointain un air de regiment

Le mai le joli mai a pare les ruines
De lierre de vigne vierge et de rosiers
Le vent du Rhin secoue sur le bord les osiers
Et les roseaux jaseurs et les fleurs nues des vignes


La synagogue

Ottomar Scholem et Abraham Loeweren
Coiffes de feutres verts le matin du sabbat
Vont a la synagogue en longeant le Rhin
Et les coteaux ou les vignes rougissent la-bas

Ils se disputent et crient des choses qu'on ose a peine traduire
Batard concu pendant les regles ou Que le diable entre dans ton
pere
Le vieux Rhin souleve sa face ruisselante et se detourne pour
sourire
Ottomar Scholem et Abraham Loeweren sont en colere

Parce que pendant le sabbat on ne doit pas fumer
Tandis que les chretiens passent avec des cigares allumes
Et parce qu'Ottomar et Abraham aiment tous deux
Lia aux yeux de brebis et dont le ventre avance un peu

Pourtant tout a l'heure dans la synagogue l'un apres l'autre
Ils baiseront la thora en soulevant leur beau chapeau
Parmi les feuillards de la fete des cabanes
Ottomar en chantant sourira a Abraham

Ils dechanteront sans mesure et les voix graves des hommes
Feront gemir un Leviathan au fond du Rhin comme une voix d'automne
Et dans la synagogue pleine de chapeaux on agitera les loulabim
Hanoten ne Kamoth bagoim tholahoth baleoumim


Les cloches

Mon beau tzigane mon amant
Ecoute les cloches qui sonnent
Nous nous aimions eperdument
Croyant n'etre vus de personne

Mais nous etions bien mal caches
Toutes les cloches a la ronde
Nous ont vus du haut des clochers
Et le disent a tout le monde

Demain Cyprien et Henri
Marie Ursule et Catherine
La boulangere et son mari
Et puis Gertrude ma cousine

Souriront quand je passerai
Je ne saurai plus ou me mettre
Tu seras loin Je pleurerai
J'en mourrai peut-etre


La Loreley

A Jean Seve

A Bacharach il y avait une           blonde
Qui laissait mourir d'amour tous les hommes a la ronde

Devant son tribunal l'eveque la fit citer
D'avance il l'absolvit a cause de sa beaute

O belle Loreley aux yeux pleins de pierreries
De quel magicien tiens-tu ta sorcellerie

Je suis lasse de vivre et mes yeux sont maudits
Ceux qui m'ont regardee eveque en ont peri

Mes yeux ce sont des flammes et non des pierreries
Jetez jetez aux flammes cette sorcellerie

Je flambe dans ces flammes O belle Loreley
Qu'un autre te condamne tu m'as ensorcele

Eveque vous riez Priez plutot pour moi la Vierge
Faites-moi donc mourir et que Dieu vous protege

Mon amant est parti pour un pays lointain
Faites-moi donc mourir puisque je n'aime rien

Mon coeur me fait si mal il faut bien que je meure
Si je me regardais il faudrait que j'en meure

Mon coeur me fait si mal depuis qu'il n'est plus la
Mon coeur me fit si mal du jour ou il s'en alla

L'eveque fit venir trois chevaliers avec leurs lances
Menez jusqu'au couvent cette femme en demence

Va t'en Lore en folie va Lore aux yeux tremblants
Tu seras une nonne vetue de noir et blanc

Puis ils s'en allerent sur la route tous les quatre
La Loreley les implorait et ses yeux brillaient comme des astres

Chevaliers laissez-moi monter sur ce rocher si haut
Pour voir une fois encore mon beau chateau

Pour me mirer une fois encore dans le fleuve
Puis j'irai au couvent des vierges et des veuves

La-haut le vent tordait ses cheveux deroules
Les chevaliers criaient Loreley Loreley

Tout la-bas sur le Rhin s'en vient une nacelle
Et mon amant s'y tient il m'a vue il m'appelle

Mon coeur devient si doux c'est mon amant qui vient
Elle se penche alors et tombe dans le Rhin

Pour avoir vu dans l'eau la belle Loreley
Ses yeux couleur du Rhin ses cheveux de soleil


Schinderhannes

Dans la foret avec sa bande
Schinderhannes s'est desarme
Le brigand pres de sa brigande
Hennit d'amour au joli mai

Benzel accroupi lit la Bible
Sans voir que son chapeau pointu
A plume d'aigle sert de cible
A Jacob Born le mal foutu

Juliette Blaesius qui rote
Fait semblant d'avoir le hoquet
Hannes pousse une fausse note
Quand Schulz vient portant un baquet

Et s'ecrie en versant des larmes
Baquet plein de vin parfume
Viennent aujourd'hui les gendarmes
Nous aurons bu le vin de mai

Allons Julia la mam'zelle
Bois avec nous ce clair bouillon
D'herbes et de vin de Moselle
Prosit Bandit en cotillon

Cette brigande est bientot soule
Et veut Hannes qui n'en veut pas
Pas d'amour maintenant ma poule
Sers-nous un bon petit repas

Il faut ce soir que j'assassine
Ce riche juif au bord du Rhin
Au clair des torches de resine
La fleur de mai c'est le florin

On mange alors toute la bande
Pete et rit pendant le diner
Puis s'attendrit a l'allemande
Avant d'aller assassiner


Rhenane d'automne

A Toussaint-Luca

Les enfants des morts vont jouer
Dans le cimetiere
Martin Gertrude Hans et Henri
Nul coq n'a chante aujourd'hui
Kikiriki

Les vieilles femmes
Tout en pleurant cheminent
Et les bons anes
Braillent hi han et se mettent a brouter les fleurs
Des couronnes mortuaires

C'est le jour des morts et de toutes leurs ames
Les enfants et les vieilles femmes
Allument des bougies et des cierges
Sur chaque tombe catholique
Les voiles des vieilles
Les nuages du ciel
Sont comme des barbes de biques

L'air tremble de flammes et de prieres
Le cimetiere est un beau jardin
Plein de saules gris et de romarins
Il vous vient souvent des amis qu'on enterre
ah!
You can easily
comply with the terms of this           by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when
you share it without charge with others.
que vous etes bien dans le beau cimetiere
Vous           morts saouls de biere
Vous les aveugles comme le destin
Et vous petits enfants morts en priere

Ah!
Yea,           now can bring no shame
Upon me that Ozias hath not brought.
_

HE           TO FIND PEACE IN THE THOUGHT THAT SHE IS IN HEAVEN.
org),
you must, at no           cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form.
Only the Raven knows this,
And he will not           this.
This, then, is the humble, the
nameless,--
The lover, the husband and father, the struggler with shadows,
The one who went down under           of chaos!
I know the grass
Must grow           along this Thracian coast, If only he would come some little while and find
it me.
915
I no longer deserve this           tenderness.
I assure you that to my lovely friend you
are           for many of my best songs.
But beneath, the Evil Spirits
Lay in ambush, waiting for him,
Broke the treacherous ice beneath him,
Dragged him           to the bottom,
Buried in the sand his body.
Let it be but the witless mating of beasts,
Tamed and           knowing itself
And cunning in its own delight: What then?
The Turk with a most mighty           makes for Cyprus.
_The Book of Hours_ contains three parts written at different periods in
the poet's life: _The Book of a Monk's Life_ (1899); _The Book of
Pilgrimage_ (1901), and _The Book of Poverty and Death_ (1903), although
the entire volume was not           until several years later.
+ Maintain attribution The Google "watermark" you see on each file is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find           materials through Google Book Search.
All folk           has indeed a passion whose like is not in modern
literature and music and art, except where it has come by some straight
or crooked way out of ancient times.
I'll taste the unguent of your eyelids' shore,

To see if it can grant to the heart, at your blow,

The           of stones and the azure.
To           Myself.
O coeurs de salete, bouches epouvantables,
          plus fort, bouches de puanteurs!
]

God and all His saints that I will never say that ever ye           to
flee from any man.
sang musing, as you hastened
Within the           thicket.
A true country of Cockaigne, I have said; where all is rich, correct and
shining, like a beautiful conscience, or a           set of silver, or a
medley of jewels.
"
Groaning for grief and shame he shows them the cut in his neck, which
he had received for his           (ll.
- You provide, in accordance with           1.
To each in turn the doting father promised
The ring, and on his death-bed, sorely grieving
To           two heirs, he had two rings
Made like the first, so close that none could tell
The model from the copies.
Though oak-beams split,
though boats and sea-men flounder,
and the strait grind sand with sand
and cut boulders to sand and drift--

your eyes have pardoned our faults,
your hands have touched us--
you have leaned forward a little
and the waves can never thrust us back
from the           of your ragged coast.
_ Eritis sicut Deus,           bonum et malum.
You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its           full Project
Gutenberg(TM) License when you share it without charge with others.
1 with
active links or           access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
NIGHT


The night has cut
each from each
and curled the petals
back from the stalk
and under it in crisp rows;

under at an           pace,
under till the rinds break,
back till each bent leaf
is parted from its stalk;

under at a grave pace,
under till the leaves
are bent back
till they drop upon earth,
back till they are all broken.
Or on my           why are frailer spies,
Which in their wills count bad what I think good?
It exists
because of the efforts of           of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
And like a river in flood thro' a burst dam
Descends the ruthless Norman--our good King
Kneels mumbling some old bone--our           folk
Are wash'd away, wailing, in their own blood--

HAROLD.
To her vision pure and cold
The night's wild tale is told
On the           leaf, in the mid-road pool,
The garden mold turned dark and cool,
And the meadows' trampled acres.
PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL           INCLUDES BY ANY
SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.
e tytelet, token, & tyxt of her werkke3,
1516 How le[des] for her lele luf hor lyue3 han auntered,
Endured for her drury dulful stounde3,
& after wenged with her walour & voyded her care,
[C] & bro3t blysse in-to boure, with           hor awen.
I feel as           by all you've said,
As if 'twere a mill-wheel going round in my head!
XERXES

Right           they are!
These, says Cicero, were admirers
of the Attic manner; but it were to be wished that they had the
wholesome blood, not merely the bones, of their           declaimers.
A thick
coating of the latter was           plastered upon the coating of tar.
As Life is on each paddle's flight to-day,
And more than Life or lives to Neuha: Love
          the frail bark and urges to the cove;
And now the refuge and the foe are nigh--
Yet, yet a moment!
The
Diluter gives us first a few notes of some well-known Air, then a dozen
bars of his own, then a few more notes of the Air, and so on alternately:
thus saving the listener, if not from all risk of           the melody
at all, at least from the too-exciting transports which it might produce
in a more concentrated form.
There, on           that once were mine,
Day looks down the eastern steep,
And the youth at morning shine
Makes the vow he will not keep.
"

"For every vein and pulse           my frame
She hath made tremble.
The Vizier was           and
kept his word.
VAGRANCY

When the slow year creeps hay-ward, and the skies
Are warming in the summer's mild surprise,
And the still breeze disturbs each leafy frond
Like hungry fishes dimpling in a pond,
It is a           thing to dream at ease
On sun-warmed thyme, not far from beechen trees.
Thou therefore rise: vanish thy weariness
By the mind's effort, in each struggle form'd
To vanquish, if she suffer not the weight
Of her           frame to crush her down.
būend are the           ceaster-, fold-, grund-,
lond-būend.
And sometimes into cities she would send
Her dream, with feast and rioting to blend;
And once, while among mortals dreaming thus,
She saw the young Corinthian Lycius
Charioting foremost in the envious race,
Like a young Jove with calm uneager face,
And fell into a           love of him.
Lovely And Lifelike

A face at the end of the day

A cradle in day's dead leaves

A bouquet of naked rain

Every ray of sun hidden

Every fount of founts in the depths of the water

Every mirror of mirrors broken

A face in the scales of silence

A pebble among other pebbles

For the leaves last           of day

A face like all the forgotten faces.
" But
(speak-ing to Jesus) he says, "What beautiful or           thing have
you said or done, though you was (sp) called upon in the temple to give
some manifest sign that you were the son of God?
Certe ego te in medio versantem turbine leti
Eripui, et potius germanum           crevi, 150
Quam tibi fallaci supremo in tempore dessem.
Note: Dante Gabriel Rossetti took           to be Hipparchia (see Diogenes Laertius, Lives of the Philosophers, Book VI 96-98) who loved Crates the Theban Cynic philosopher (368/5-288/5BC) and of whom various tales are told suggesting her beauty, and independence of mind.
Thou wanton baggage with           face,
Thee on the spot I'll instantly chastise,
And then thy husband of the fact advise.
What else is the Palladium (with Homer) that kept Troy so long
from          
But they, placed high on the top of all
virtue, looked down on the stage of the world and           the play of
fortune.
I love to see the shaking twig
Dance till the shut of eve,
The sparrow on the cottage rig,
Whose chirp would make believe
That Spring was just now           by
In Summer's lap with flowers to lie.
 374/3493