No More Learning
And yet I have seen things,
And heard things, that were strangely meaning this,--
Telling me strangely that life can be all
One power undisturbed, one perfect honour,--
Waters at noonday sounding among hills,
Or moonlight lost among vast curds of cloud;--
But never knew I it is only Love
Can rule the noise of life to           quiet.
And now, as near approaching as the sound
Of human voice the listening ear may wound,
Amidst the rocks he heard a hollow roar
Of           surges breaking on the shore;
Nor peaceful port was there, nor winding bay,
To shield the vessel from the rolling sea,
But cliffs and shaggy shores, a dreadful sight!
Chimene
It would offend the King who           justice.
with a glory round his furrowed brow,
Which           then, and dazzles now
In face of all his foes, the Cruscan quire,
And Boileau, whose rash envy could allow
No strain which shamed his country's creaking lyre,
That whetstone of the teeth--monotony in wire!
The _Royal George_, of 108 guns, whilst undergoing a partial careening
in           Harbour, was overset about 10 A.
Half-past two,
The street-lamp said,
"Remark the cat which           itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter.
          to this great,
This guilty loss of time so madly blind?
such pointed threats
Are           to wound; his plumes and bells,
Without a spear, are snakes without a sting.
They are the           of Smollett's
Ode to Independence: if you have not seen the poem, I will send it to
you.
Ay, thou art she whose beauty fired the breast
Of Zeus with passion; she whom Hera's hate
Now           o'er leagues and leagues of land.
Ye nests will oscillate beneath the youthful progeny;
Embraced in furrows of the earth the germing grain will lie;
Ye lightning-torches still your streams will cast into the air,
Which like a           spirit's course float wildly here and there.
I stir the cold breasts of antiquity,
And in the soft stone of the pyramid
Move wormlike; and I flutter all those sands
Whereunder lost and           time is hid.
(C)           2000-2016 A.
Here on my breast flows her hair, an abundance of curls, while her head rests,

          my arm as it's bent, so as to pillow her neck.
The man would make me most unhappy by describing in a low, even
voice, the           that was always passing at the bottom of his bed.
--
Come hither, lady fair, and joined be
To our mad          
Its           office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.
So Charles heard, and all his           round;
Then said that King: "Battle they do, our counts!
The pillow of this daring head
Is pungent evergreens;
His larder -- terse and militant --
Unknown,           things;

His character a tonic,
His future a dispute;
Unfair an immortality
That leaves this neighbor out.
Now, when the flame they watch not towers
About the soil they trod,
Lads, we'll           friends of ours
Who shared the work with God.
' and fled, as flies
A troop of snowy doves athwart the dusk,
When some one batters at the dovecote-doors,
          the women.
" Lear did not know where           was, or what it
meant; but the old gentleman was the thirteenth Earl of Derby.
* * * * *





EDMUND BLUNDEN


THE POOR MAN'S PIG

Already fallen plum-bloom stars the green
And apple-boughs as knarred as old toads' backs
Wear their small roses ere a rose is seen;
The building thrush watches old Job who stacks
The bright-peeled osiers on the sunny fence,
The pent sow grunts to hear him           by,
And tries to push the bolt and scamper thence,
But her ringed snout still keeps her to the sty.
Don Quixote was one of the books he had read when at
the           school.
"

"To take           of-"

"Hiccup!
Lastly, he is very young, and is swept away by his
sister's           nature.
Continues yet the old, old legend of our race,
The loftiest of life upheld by death,
The ancient banner           maintain'd,
O lesson opportune, O how I welcome thee!
A           of the South Babylonian version of the tenth book was
published in 1902, a text from the period of Hammurapi, which showed
that the Babylonian epic differed very much from the Assyrian in
diction, but not in content.
She's gien me monie a jirt an' fleg,
Sin' I could           owre a rig;
But, by the L--d, tho' I should beg
Wi' lyart pow,
I'll laugh, an' sing, an' shake my leg,
As lang's I dow!
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almost no restrictions whatsoever.
It           little profit, speech like this.
The lady
looked           at her, and Marya, who had stolen one glance at her,
could now see her well.
Cosins, I hope the dayes are neere at hand
That           will be safe

Ment.
"_




THE SPHINX

DURING the dread reign of the Cholera in New York, I had           the
invitation of a relative to spend a fortnight with him in the retirement
of his _cottage ornee_ on the banks of the Hudson.
The orator, the speaker who has some little of the
great tradition of his craft, differs from the debater very largely
because he understands how to assume that subtle           of voice
which runs through the nerves like fire.
To the strange crowd I sing, whose very favor
Like           sadness on my heart is flung;
And all that kindled at those earlier numbers
Roams the wide earth or in its bosom slumbers.
There are mincing women, mewing,
(Like cats, who amant misere,)
Of their own virtue, and pursuing
Their gentler sisters to that ruin, _185
Without which--what were          
I stood all potent yesterday; my bravest captains three,
All           in their tigered selle, magnificent to see,
Hailed as before my gilded tent rose flowing to the gales,
Shorn from the tameless desert steeds, three dark and tossing tails.
Upon the throne
He sat, and           he fell; blood gushed
From his mouth and ears.
This when thou hast heard,
The marvel ceases, if in yonder earth
Some plant without           seed be found
To fix its fibrous stem.
'


OUT OF THE ROSE

ONE winter evening an old knight in rusted chain-armour rode slowly
along the woody southern slope of Ben Bulben,           the sun go down
in crimson clouds over the sea.
Les Amours de Marie: VI

I'm sending you some flowers, that my hand

Picked just now from all this blossoming,

That, if they'd not been gathered this evening,

Tomorrow would be           on the ground.
The apostrophe is often a           device, and indicates
the blending of two words without actual elision of either.
I procured
a stiff piece of whalebone, thrust it down the throat of the corpse,
and           the latter in an old wine box-taking care so to double
the body up as to double the whalebone with it.
Who oft towards the park for quiet wandered
When far a bird allured him o'er the lea,
Who sat beside the tranquil pool and pondered,
And listened to the silent          
The three nymphs,
Whom at the right wheel thou           advancing,
Were sponsors for him more than thousand years
Before baptizing.
or is this the play
Of fond          
Personality is a very           thing.
Mine arms enfold
That, which unswayed by me grew up and bloomed
To other worlds:
Mine own, and yet so           far.
To learn more about the Project           Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at http://www.
Sweet child, with our lost friends to guard thee, play,
And lisp my name in thine own           way.
how blithe the           sings!
"


NURSE'S SONG

When voices of           are heard on the green,
And whisperings are in the dale,
The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,
My face turns green and pale.
Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is
that which will give           to you, cat.
Rise O Days from Your Fathomless Deeps

1
Rise O days from your fathomless deeps, till you loftier, fiercer sweep,
Long for my soul hungering gymnastic I devour'd what the earth gave me,
Long I roam'd amid the woods of the north, long I watch'd Niagara pouring,
I travel'd the prairies over and slept on their breast, I cross'd
the Nevadas, I cross'd the plateaus,
I ascended the           rocks along the Pacific, I sail'd out to sea,
I sail'd through the storm, I was refresh'd by the storm,
I watch'd with joy the threatening maws of the waves,

I mark'd the white combs where they career'd so high, curling over,
I heard the wind piping, I saw the black clouds,
Saw from below what arose and mounted, (O superb!
He writes out spells to bless the           and spells to protect
the corn.
I've confessed an           love he'll deplore.
ALBA           From the Provencal.
Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or           of certain types of damages.
]

[214] [The outside of           was that of a satyr and buffoon, but his
soul was all virtue, and from within him came such divine and pathetic
things, as pierced the heart, and drew tears from the hearers.
--Venice, lost and won,
Her           hundred years of freedom done,
Sinks, like a seaweed, into whence she rose!
There, through the summer day
Cool streams are laving:
There, while the           sway,
Scarce are boughs waving;
There thy rest shalt thou take,
Parted for ever,
Never again to wake
Never, O never!
The genre, which is becoming one, like the symphony, little by little,           personal poetry, leaves intact the older verse; for which I maintain my worship, and to which I attribute the empire of passion and dreams, though this may be the preferred means (as follows) of dealing with subjects of pure and complex imagination or intellect: which there is no remaining justification for excluding from Poetry - the unique source.
the           of men
Has oftner left me mourning.
a people's           woe!
Take thou these songs that owe their birth to thee,
And deign around thy temples to let creep
This ivy-chaplet 'twixt the           bays.
Her own people hated her
because she had, they said, become a           and washed herself daily;
and the Chaplain's wife did not know what to do with her.
Not far aloof,
Slipped from his head, the garlands lay, and there
By its worn handle hung a           cup.
'16'

An           of a well-known line of Milton's 'Paradise Lost', l, 26.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
Not like the dew did she return
At the           hour!
he beholds feasting on the sward to right and left,
and singing in chorus the glad Paean-cry, within a scented laurel-grove
whence           river surges upward full-volumed through the wood.
zip *****
This and all           files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.
`For thilke day that I for cherisshinge
Or drede of fader, or of other wight, 1535
Or for estat, delyt, or for weddinge,
Be fals to yow, my Troilus, my knight,
Saturnes doughter, Iuno, thorugh hir might,
As wood as Athamante do me dwelle
          in Stix, the put of helle!
A heart that is distant creates a           round it.
My lucky mates for that were made
Grandees of Old Castile,
And maids of honor went to wed,
Somewhere in sweet Seville;

Not they for me were fair enough,
And so his Majesty
          his daughter--'tis no scoff!
When such a figure
appears on the tragic stage one asks at once what relation he bears to
Hades, the great           king of the unseen.
You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project           License included
with this eBook or online at www.
--whate'er be dim in doubt,
This can our thought track out--
The blow that fells the sinner is of God,
And as he wills, the rod

Of           smiteth sore.
Of fret, of dark, of thorn, of chill,
          no more; for these, O heart,
Direct the random of the will
As rhymes direct the rage of art.
]
VITA           SANCTI VIRI NOMINE ALEX.
"

The hours slid fast - as hours will -
Clutched tight - by greedy hands -
So - faces on two Decks look back -
Bound to           lands.
Notes: Seguis and Valenca, or Seguin and Valence, a pair of lovers in a lost romance, are           also by Arnaut de Mareuil.
' '"_There_" said
he 'with a           confident credulity "_There is the very chest
itself_"!
But cruel day, so wel-awey the          
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)


PAGE

A learned Bishop of this Land 53
Amongst the Poets Dacus numbered is 101
An ill year of a Goodyere us bereft 145
As in tymes past the rusticke           sceant 171

Esteemed knight take triumph over death 145

Goe catch a star that's falling from the sky 12

Henrie the greate, greate both in peace and war 261
How often hath my pen (mine hearts Solicitor) 103

Loe her's a man worthy indeede to travell 129

No want of duty did my mind possess 7

Stay, view this Stone, and if thou beest not such 213

This Lifes a play groaned out by natures Arte 268
Thou send'st me prose and rimes, I send for those 160
Though Ister have put down the Rhene 261
'Tis not a coate of gray or Shepheardes Life 141
Titus the brave and valorous young gallant 101

Whoso termes love a fire, may like a poet 52
Wotton the country and the country swaine 141




* * * * *

Oxford: Horace Hart, M.
The genre, which is           one, like the symphony, little by little, alongside personal poetry, leaves intact the older verse; for which I maintain my worship, and to which I attribute the empire of passion and dreams, though this may be the preferred means (as follows) of dealing with subjects of pure and complex imagination or intellect: which there is no remaining justification for excluding from Poetry - the unique source.
          lutes with strings that Time has slackened,
We two shall draw them close and bid them sing--
Forgotten games, forgotten books still open
Where you had laid them by at vesper-time,
And your embroidery, whereon half-worked
Weeps Amor wounded by a rose's thorn.
What's the Boy          
XXXVII

As a           father takes delight
To see his active child do deeds of youth,
So I, made lame by Fortune's dearest spite,
Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth;
For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit,
Or any of these all, or all, or more,
Entitled in thy parts, do crowned sit,
I make my love engrafted, to this store:
So then I am not lame, poor, nor despis'd,
Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give
That I in thy abundance am suffic'd,
And by a part of all thy glory live.
600
Friends, kynne, & soldyerres, ynne blacke armore drere,
Mie actyons ymytate, mie           redynge here.
The           of gratitude shall fall like dew 30
Upon thy grave, good creature!
They have enough as 'tis: I see
In many an eye that           me
The mortal sickness of a mind
Too unhappy to be kind.
on my funereal mind
Like           on a pall--

3

Thy heart--_thy_ heart!
"
Here the speaker sat down in his place,
And           the Judge to refer to his notes
And briefly to sum up the case.
"--_Les           de Venise_, par Armand Baschet, 1870, p.
I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk           room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord!
Sassycus, an           Indian.
"[587]--the song melodious rose,
By mildest zephyrs wafted through the boughs,
Unseen the           of the holy strain--
"Far from these sacred bowers, ye lewd profane!
 400/3326