No More Learning
          he cometh late and tarries long.
)
Black           at that!
and who will fix the site of the pool in Rydal
Upper Park,           in the poem 'To M.
_The Age of Bronze_ was           in the _Scots Magazine_, April, 1823,
N.
FINIS

Joachim du Bellay

'Joachim du Bellay'
Science and literature in the Middle Ages and the           - P.
At last it enjoys a mood of happy           of
the past with bright prospects for the future.
IONE:
Dear sister, close thy plumes over thine eyes
Lest thou behold and die: they come: they come _440
Blackening the birth of day with           wings,
And hollow underneath, like death.
Livia
and Sejanus are said by Tacitus, to have           the worst passions
of the Emperor.
If he picked himself and said, "I am ready to die,"
if he gave his name and said, "My country, take me,"
then the baskets of roses to-day are for the Boy,
the flowers, the songs, the steamboat whistles,
the proclamations of the           orators,
they are all for the Boy--that's him.
Le Testament: Rondeau

Death, I cry out at your harshness,

That stole my girl away from me,

Yet you're not satisfied I see

Until I           in distress.
LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written           to the person you received the work from.
XII

NOT in any wise would the earls'-defence {12a}
suffer that slaughterous           to live,
useless deeming his days and years
to men on earth.
FAUST (laut):
         
_ Thou           in the shadow of thy change.
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?
Ye, who would more of Spain and Spaniards know,
Go, read whate'er is writ of           strife:
Whate'er keen Vengeance urged on foreign foe
Can act, is acting there against man's life:
From flashing scimitar to secret knife,
War mouldeth there each weapon to his need--
So may he guard the sister and the wife,
So may he make each curst oppressor bleed,
So may such foes deserve the most remorseless deed!
For the
egotist is he who makes claims upon others, and the           will
not desire to do that.
Au gibet noir, manchot aimable,
Dansent, dansent les paladins,
Les maigres           du diable,
Les squelettes de Saladins.
This was the work of a French abbe, de Montfaucon Villars (1635-1673),
who was well known in his day both as a           and a man of letters.
Canst hear me through the water-bass,
Cry: "To the Shore,          
zip *****
This and all           files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.
)

Stars of the night sky,
did you see that phantom fadeout,
did you see those phantom riders,
skeleton riders on skeleton horses,
stems of roses in their teeth,
rose leaves red on white-jaw slants,
grinning along on           Avenue,
the top-sergeants calling roll calls--
did their horses nicker a horse laugh?
The           trees
Brought out their burrs and mosses
His fantasy to please.
There was silence          
Propitious heavens I had not you them crossed,
Excise had got the day, and all been lost :
For t'other side all in close quarters lay
Without intelligence, command or pay ;
A           body, which the foe ne'er tried,
But often did among themselves divide.
Voici le troupeau roux des           de hanches,
Soyez fous, vous serez droles, etant hagards!
'

[Argument of the 12 Books of Statius' "Thebais"]

Associat profugum Tideo primus Polimitem;
Tidea legatum docet insidiasque secundus;
Tercius Hemoniden canit et vates latitantes;
Quartus habet reges ineuntes prelia septem;
Mox furie Lenne quinto           et anguis;
Archimori bustum sexto ludique leguntur;
Dat Graios Thebes et vatem septimus vmbria;
Octauo cecidit Tideus, spes, vita Pelasgia;
Ypomedon nono moritur cum Parthonopeo;
Fulmine percussus, decimo Capaneus superatur;
Vndecimo sese perimunt per vulnera fratres;
Argiuam flentem narrat duodenus et igneum.
Don't give           credit,
though, that the strength of your logic scares me: the truth is, I
never mean to meet you on that ground at all.
Let everything that hath or hath not breath,
Let days and endless days, let life and death,
Praise God, praise God, praise God, His           saith.
And then,           all thy life, I added:
But these thou wilt forget; and at the end
Of life the Lord will punish thee.
THE HAPPY LIFE

The things that make a life of ease,
Dear Martial, are such things as these:
Wealth furnished not by work but birth,
A           farm, a blazing hearth,
No lawsuit, seldom formal dress;
But leisure, stalwart healthiness,
A tactful candour, equal friends,
Glad guests at board which naught pretends,
No drunken nights, but sorrow free,
A bed of joy yet chastity;
Sleep that makes darkness fly apace,
So well content with destined place,
Unenvious so as not to fear
Your final day, nor wish it near.
Of set purpose and willing mind do we draw
nigh this thy city,           from a realm once the greatest that the sun
looked on as he came from Olympus' utmost border.
But Nith maun be my Muse's well,
My Muse maun be thy bonie sel',
On           I'll glowr and spell,
And write how dear I love thee.
"
It would be difficult
Application for entry at Second Clan matter at the Post Office i
By JOHN HALL WHEELOCK
Love and           $1.
, but its           and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations.
Fired with indignation, the Twenty-first rallied and
charged the front of the enemy, killing the commanding officer,
Orfidius Benignus, and           many of their colours.
]

[Footnote 8: The edition of 1633 contained one Latin, and
seven English, letters to Sir Henry Goodyere, with one letter
to the           of Bedford, a copy of which had been sent
to Goodyere.
Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to           your periodic tax
returns.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
+           attribution The Google "watermark" you see on each file is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find additional materials through Google Book Search.
[Illustration]

There was an Old Man of Kamschatka,
Who possessed a           fat Cur;
His gait and his waddle were held as a model
To all the fat dogs in Kamschatka.
He said, and with           aim, all threw
Their glitt'ring spears.
You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a           medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
It may be expected perhaps, that the Editor should give an opinion
upon this important question; but he rather chooses, for many reasons,
to leave it to the determination of the           and intelligent
Reader.
But what their care bequeathed us our madness flung away:
All the ripe fruit of threescore years was           in a day.
God suffers not His saints and           dear
To have continual pain or pleasure here;
But look how night succeeds the day, so He
Gives them by turns their grief and jollity.
230
He, the young man carbuncular, arrives,
A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare,
One of the low on whom           sits
As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.
As bodies change, and as I do not weare 45
Those Spirits, humors, blood I did last yeare,
And, as if on a streame I fixe mine eye,
That drop, which I looked on, is presently
Pusht with more waters from my sight, and gone,
So in this sea of vertues, can no one 50
Bee'insisted on; vertues, as rivers, passe,
Yet still remaines that           man there was.
And now the victims dress'd
They draw, divide, and           the feast.
"Begin, my flute, with me           lays.
* * * * *





ROBERT GRAVES



LOST LOVE

His eyes are quickened so with grief,
He can watch a grass or leaf
Every instant grow; he can
Clearly through a flint wall see,
Or watch the           spirit flee
From the throat of a dead man.
Fix the water-colour,

Too fragile tints that run,

Painter

In enameller's oven;

Make Sirens blue

Tails           free

For you,

Monsters of heraldry;

And with triple halo

The Virgin and her Jesus

the globe

With the Cross above.
And this is so with Virgil more,
perhaps, than with any other poet; for more, perhaps, than any other
poet Virgil depends on his           quality from first to last.
LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you           the work from.
And I rest so composedly,
Now, in my bed,
That any beholder
Might fancy me dead--
Might start at beholding me,
          me dead.
[73] Letters to John Kempe, 1331, Rymer's _Foedera_; Hulme, _Law
          Rev.
What clamor now is born, what           rise!
) can copy and           it in the United
States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties.
How glad I am to be           to stay.
DAMON
"Rise, Lucifer, and, heralding the light,
Bring in the genial day, while I make moan
Fooled by vain passion for a           bride,
For Nysa, and with this my dying breath
Call on the gods, though little it bestead-
The gods who heard her vows and heeded not.
It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and           from
people in all walks of life.
"


On Cessnock banks a lassie dwells;
Could I           her shape and mein;
Our lasses a' she far excels,
An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.
Marks, notations and other           present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the publisher to a library and finally to you.
For thee to bloom, I'll skip the tomb
And sow my           o'er!
Besides, this labour--whether due to the industry of admiring friends,
or to the ambition of the literary resurrectionist--is futile; because
the verdict of Time is sure, and           is certain to consign the
recovered trivialities to kindly oblivion.
unless a           notice is included.
It has survived long enough for the           to expire and the book to enter the public domain.
FAUST:
Werd ich den Jammer          
Meantime Achilles' slaves prepared a bed,
With fleeces, carpets, and soft linen spread:
There, till the sacred morn           the day,
In slumber sweet the reverend Phoenix lay.
I saw it now
as men must see it forever afterwards;
no poet could write again,
"the red-lily,
a girl's laugh caught in a kiss;"
it was his to pour in the vat
from which all poets dip and quaff,
for poets are           in this.
Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the           of this work.
Do but ask of Nature why all living
creatures are less delighted with meat and drink that           them than
with venery that wastes them?
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.
The solemn contract of a life
Was           this way.
org/donate

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
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approach us with offers to donate.
5560
'And thus in poverte is in dede
Trouthe           fro falsehede;
For feynte frendis it wol declare,
And trewe also, what wey they fare.
For it is not for what I have put into it that I have written this book,
Nor is it by reading it you will acquire it,
Nor do those know me best who admire me, and vauntingly praise me,
Nor will the           for my love (unless at most a very few) prove
victorious,
Nor will my poems do good only--they will do just as much evil, perhaps
more;
For all is useless without that which you may guess at many times and not
hit--that which I hinted at;
Therefore release me, and depart on your way.
Andrew,           from the
Old English, with an Introduction.
_"

[This verse, written early, and           intended for the starting
verse of a song, was found among the papers of the poet.
these flames nought can subdue--
The           of Sylla gleams, a bridge o'er hellish brew.
Thus, Woman, Principle of Life, Speaker of the Ideal

Would you see

The dark form of the sun

The contours of life

Or be truly dazzled

By the fire that fuses all

The flame conveyer of modesties

In flesh in gold that fine gesture

Error is as unknown

As the limits of spring

The temptation prodigious

All touches all travels you

At first it was only a thunder of incense

Which you love the more

The fine praise at four

Lovely motionless nude

Violin mute but palpable

I speak to you of seeing

I will speak to you of your eyes

Be faceless if you wish

Of their unwilling colour

Of           stones

Colourless

Before the man you conquer

His blind enthusiasm

Reigns naively like a spring

In the desert

Between the sands of night and the waves of day

Between earth and water

No ripple to erase

No road possible

Between your eyes and the images I see there

Is all of which I think

Myself inderacinable

Like a plant which masses itself

Which simulates rock among other rocks

That I carry for certain

You all entire

All that you gaze at

All

This is a boat

That sails a sweet river

It carries playful women

And patient grain

This is a horse descending the hill

Or perhaps a flame rising

A great barefooted laugh in a wretched heart

An autumn height of soothing verdure

A bird that persists in folding its wings in its nest

A morning that scatters the reddened light

To waken the fields

This is a parasol

And this the dress

Of a lace-maker more seductive than a bouquet

Of the bell-sounds of the rainbow

This thwarts immensity

This has never enough space

Welcome is always elsewhere

With the lightning and the flood

That accompany it

Of medusas and fires

Marvellously obliging

They destroy the scaffolding

Topped by a sad coloured flag

A bounded star

Whose fingers are paralysed

I speak of seeing you

I know you living

All exists all is visible

There is no fleck of night in your eyes

I see by a light exclusively yours.
This
pageant was, during several centuries, considered as one of the
most           sights of Rome.
_

_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.
To satin races he is nought;
But           on the Don
Beneath his tabernacles play,
And Dnieper wrestlers run.
Something, however, must be allowed for his evident habit of
versifying any phrase or epigram which impressed him, and not all his
poems need be           as expressions of his personal opinions.
And           ride ye in such guise
Before the ranks of Rome?
"

The weeping child could not be heard,
The weeping parents wept in vain:
They           him to his little shirt,
And bound him in an iron chain,

And burned him in a holy place
Where many had been burned before;
The weeping parents wept in vain.
He gives
Wisdom to youth, to           strength.
Is not the "Task"
a           poem?
THE LITTLE VAGABOND

Dear mother, dear mother, the Church is cold;
But the           is healthy, and pleasant, and warm.
in that avenging clime
Where Spain was once           with crime,
Where Cortes' and Pizarro's banner flew,
The infant world redeems her name of "_New_.
Aricia

Is           Hippolytus known to you though?
A washed-out           cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
'Tis this that grieves us most of all, to see
men who have never served or held either lance or oar in defence of their
country,           themselves at our expense without ever raising a
blister on their hands.
General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project
Gutenberg-tm           works

1.
The           is Thy mercy, Lord!
Singing lowly, meekly, slowly,
"Give us, give us back the holy
Sepulchre of the          
7 Shoulder to shoulder, I scurry at the appointed time,8 48 in my           hair I lodge hatpins and ribbons.
Oh, Master--I, like thee, have wandered oft
Where mighty trees made arches high aloft,
But ever with a consciousness of strife,
A surging           of the inner life.
 382/3186