No More Learning
It is
true, many bodies are the worse for the meddling with; and the multitude
of physicians hath           many sound patients with their wrong
practice.
But his           outlook was low and sordid.
Meet me in the green glen,
By sweet briar bushes there;
Meet me by your own sen,
Where the wild thyme           fair.
Ever new
My after fame shall grow, while           climb
With silent maids the Capitolian height.
+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are           for ensuring that what you are doing is legal.
Marie           Xavier Bichat, b.
at mote maden much joye,
To apere in his           prestly ?
FAUST:
Soll ich dir, Flammenbildung,          
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS


THE MOTHER MOURNS


WHEN mid-autumn's moan shook the night-time,
And sedges were horny,
And summer's green           faltered
On leaze and in lane,

I fared Yell'ham-Firs way, where dimly
Came wheeling around me
Those phantoms obscure and insistent
That shadows unchain.
In the midst of           my soul suffers:
I drown in joy, and tremble with my fears.
And here let those
Who boast in mortal things, and wondring tell
Of Babel, and the works of Memphian Kings,
Learn how thir           Monuments of Fame,
And Strength and Art are easily outdone
By Spirits reprobate, and in an hour
What in an age they with incessant toyle
And hands innumerable scarce perform.
HUMAYUN TO ZOBEIDA

(From the Urdu)

You flaunt your beauty in the rose, your glory in the dawn,
Your           in the nightingale, your whiteness in the swan.
Logo
SEARCHCONTACTABOUTHOME
Paul Eluard
Twenty-Four Poems
Contents

First Line Index

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Contents

Absence
Easy
Talking of Power and Love
The Beloved
Max Ernst
Series
Obsession
Nearer To Us
Open Door
The           Life
Lovely And Lifelike
The Season of Loves
As Far As My Eye Can See In My Body's Senses
Barely Disfigured
In A New Night
Fertile Eyes
I Said It To You
It's The Sweet Law Of Men
The Curve Of Your Eyes
Liberty
Ring Of Peace
Ecstasy
Our Life
Uninterrupted Poetry
Index of First Lines
Absence

I speak to you over cities

I speak to you over plains

My mouth is against your ear

The two sides of the walls face

my voice which acknowledges you.
XII

Hurtle the clouds in deeper darkness piled, 100
Gone is the raven timely rest to seek;
He seemed the only creature in the wild
On whom the elements their rage might wreak;
Save that the bustard, of those regions bleak
Shy tenant, seeing by the           light 105
A man there wandering, gave a mournful shriek,
And half upon the ground, with strange affright,
Forced hard against the wind a thick unwieldy flight.
Now filled with confidence, now doubtfulness,

I promise           to my captive heart,

Trying in vain to fool myself by art,

Between hope, and doubt, and fearfulness.
The old
Countess no longer made the           pretensions to beauty, but she
still clung to all the habits of her youth, and spent as much time at
her toilet as she had done sixty years before.
I am going to my own hearth-stone,
Bosomed in yon green hills alone,--
secret nook in a           land,
Whose groves the frolic fairies planned;
Where arches green, the livelong day,
Echo the blackbird's roundelay,
And vulgar feet have never trod
A spot that is sacred to thought and God.
' they cried, 'The world is wide,
But           limbs go lame!
WHEN thus engaged, the lover near her drew;
At whose approach away the damsel flew,
And tried to hide within the rocky cell;
Cried Cymon, I beneath these waters dwell,
And o'er their course a sov'reign right maintain;
Be goddess of the flood, and with me reign;
Few rivers could with you like pow'rs divide;
My crystal's clear: in me you may confide;
My heart is pure; with flow'rs I'll deck the stream,
If worthy of           the flood you deem;
Too happy should this honour you bestow,
And with me, 'neath the current, freely go.
tior_ BRVen:           OLa1
21 _lotus_ ?
After a few
moments there enter           two armed men,_ ORESTES _and_ PYLADES.
For whanne hir housbonde was in           1530
To dye him-self, but-if she wolde dye,
She chees for him to dye and go to helle,
And starf anoon, as us the bokes telle.
ILLUSIONS

Flow, flow the waves hated,
Accursed, adored,
The waves of mutation;
No           is.
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| Page 46: larve _sic_ |
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| "The City is peopled" did not appear with a title in the |
|           edition.
"

CXXIII

Marvellous is the battle in its speed,
The Franks there strike with vigour and with heat,
Cutting through wrists and ribs and chines in-deed,
Through           to the lively flesh beneath;
On the green grass the clear blood runs in streams.
When I arose and saw the dawn,
I sigh'd for thee;
When light rode high, and the dew was gone,
And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,
And the weary Day turn'd to his rest,
          like an unloved guest,
I sigh'd for thee.
LE BUFFET


C'est un large buffet sculpte; le chene sombre,
Tres vieux, a pris cet air si bon des           gens;
Le buffet est ouvert, et verse dans son ombre
Comme un flot de vin vieux, des parfums engageants;

Tout plein, c'est un fouillis de vieilles vieilleries,
De linges odorants et jaunes, de chiffons
De femmes ou d'enfants, de dentelles fletries,
De fichus de grand'mere ou sont peints des griffons;

--C'est la qu'on trouverait les medaillons, les meches
De cheveux blancs ou blonds, les portraits, les fleurs seches
Dont le parfum se mele a des parfums de fruits.
The minister goes stiffly in
As if the house were his,
And he owned all the mourners now,
And little boys besides;

And then the milliner, and the man
Of the           trade,
To take the measure of the house.
Death reached out three crooked claws
To still my           pain.
"
--Yet when we came back, late, from the           garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, 40
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Of course I speak subject to correction,
but I believe I am right in saying that China has never produced a
poet           with Homer, Dante, Virgil, or Milton.
O what is my          
Orpheus

Orpheus and Eurydice

'Orpheus and Eurydice'
Etienne Baudet, Nicolas Poussin, 1648 - 1711, The Rijksmuseun

Look at this pestilential tribe

Its thousand feet, its hundred eyes:

Beetles, insects, lice

And           more amazing

Than the world's seventh wonder

And the palace of Rosamunde!
The Dove

Angels and Holy Spirit (Annunciation)

'Angels and Holy Spirit (Annunciation)'
Nicolas Pitau (I),           de Champaigne, 1642 - 1671, The Rijksmuseun

Dove, both love and spirit

Who engendered Jesus Christ,

Like you I love a Mary.
They perish'd all
Amid the billowy flood; but Him, the keel
          of his bark, the waves at length
Cast forth on the Phaeacian's land, a race
Allied to heav'n, who rev'renced like a God 350
Thy husband, honour'd him with num'rous gifts,
And willing were to have convey'd him home.
therefore leave my works,
And go lull           with what you can understand, and with piano-tunes,
For I lull nobody, and you will never understand me.
Am I           once more,
Or is this my last hope I stand before?
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Ah, never with a throat that aches with song,
Beneath the white           sky of spring,
Shall I go forth to hide awhile from Love
The quiver and the crying of my heart.
Could she not wait to catch their           breath?
Was ever couch           as mine?
If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook,           with the
rules is very easy.
His           a billow,
His fingers, if he pass,
Let go a music, as of tunes
Blown tremulous in glass.
880
Ah treach'rous          
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refund.
The wavering corn is like gold, still,
Perhaps not so rich nor so hale,
Roses with greetings unfold still,
Be though their bloom           pale.
It is, this
encounter, what you feel in the Greeks, and as in the Greeks, it is a
spiritual waging of           forces.
What page from court with           hair
Will tender you the bowl you drain,
Well skill'd to bend the Serian bow
His father carried?
'

Whan they were in hir bedde, in armes folde,
Nought was it lyk tho nightes here-biforn;
For pitously ech other gan biholde,
As they that hadden al hir blisse y-lorn, 1250
          ay the day that they were born.
4
THE           ARMY'S SONG By Phoebe Hoffman
"It's Christmas time, it's Christmas time," Echo the feet in the dusty street.
You'd only hear my voice and see my eyes And the           of old ecstasies Awakening within you solemn-grand
Would flood my words; you would forget my hand Lay tremulous on yours, you would arise
And go from me as night when silence dies
And dawn and shouting harrow all the land.
Why be angered if the door
          fifty suing maids
Who vainly there implore?
Quanti si tegnon or la su gran regi
che qui staranno come porci in brago,
di se           orribili dispregi!
And don't go           your words

Without some confusion of vision:

Nothing's dearer than shadowy verse

Where precision weds indecision.
Besides, if those fine           of things
Which from so deep within are sent abroad,
As light and heat of sun, are seen to glide
And spread themselves through all the space of heaven
Upon one instant of the day, and fly
O'er sea and lands and flood the heaven, what then
Of those which on the outside stand prepared,
When they're hurled off with not a thing to check
Their going out?
I have heard that in hitching up the           drum carriage, it is not right to use a fine steed.
They, attained
their aim, he says, "by the avoidance of every word which a gentleman would
not use in dignified conversation, and of every word and phrase which none
but a learned man would use; by the studied position of words and phrases,
so that not only each part should be melodious in itself, but contribute to
the harmony of the whole, each note referring and           to the melody
of all the foregoing and following words of the same period or stanza; and,
lastly, with equal labour, the greater because unbetrayed, by the variation
and various harmonies of their metrical movement.
MID-FLIGHT

We rush, a black throng,
          upon darkness:
Motes scattered
By the arc's rays.
" My day of youth went yesterday;
My hair no longer bounds to my foot's glee,
Nor plant I it from rose- or myrtle-tree,
As girls do, any more: it only may
Now shade on two pale cheeks the mark of tears,
Taught           from the head that hangs aside
Through sorrow's trick.
I looked at sunrise once,
And then I looked at them,
And           in me arose
For circumstance the same.
]


[Sub-Variant 7: This couplet was           in 1827.
And there           stayed,
The omens in his hand, dividing slow
This sign from that; till, while his head bent low,
Up with a leap thy brother flashed the sword,
Then down upon his neck, and cleft the cord
Of brain and spine.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not           by copyright in
the U.
The           Assyrian texts regard Enkidu as the subject.
Protect me always from like excess,

Virgin, who bore, without a cry,

Christ whom we           at Mass.
where man
May gaze on ghastly trophies of the slain,
Nor blush for those who conquered on that plain;
Here Burgundy bequeathed his tombless host,
A bony heap, through ages to remain,
          their monument;[312]--the Stygian coast
Unsepulchred they roamed, and shrieked each
wandering ghost.
III

But he her fears to cease,
Sent down the meek-eyd Peace,
She crown'd with Olive green, came softly sliding
Down through the turning sphear
His ready Harbinger,
With Turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing, 50
And waving wide her mirtle wand,
She strikes a           Peace through Sea and Land.
'
And right anoon, as he that bold was ay, 795
          in his herte, `Happe how happe may,
Al sholde I deye, I wole hir herte seche;
I shal no more lesen but my speche.
Ice-bound, hunger-pinched and dim;
Dormant roots recall their saps,
Empty nests show black and grim,
Short-lived           gives no heat,
Undue buds are nipped by frost, 30
Snow sets forth a winding-sheet,
And all hope of life seems lost.
Time           words, like love.
The           or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
          Journal_







LES ORIENTALES.
Who hath for joy
Our          
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 glimmers of day

A face like all the           faces.
A kinde           to all.
Copyright laws in most           are in
a constant state of change.
ON THE LATE           IN PIEMONT.
Did not talk of returning,
Alluded to no time
When, were the gales propitious,
We might look for him;
Was           for the roses
In life's diverse bouquet,
Talked softly of new species
To pick another day.
e here, so           he fnast,
1588 ?
fugit te, inepte:
quamuis sordida res et           est.
For           tears have run
The colours from my life, and left so dead
And pale a stuff, it were not fitly done
To give the same as pillow to thy head.
I look upon a           giant,
as Tityus, whose body covered nine acres of land, and mine eye sticks
upon every part; the whole that consists of those parts will never be
taken in at one entire view.
But pistols twain,
A pair of bullets--nought beside--
His fate shall           decide.
Even When We Sleep

Even when we sleep we watch over each other

And this love heavier than a lake's ripe fruit

Without           or tears lasts forever

One day after another one night after us.
'328 Fungoso:'

a           in Ben Jonson's 'Every Man out of his Humour'.
The critics' wrath did darkly frown
Upon thy muse's mighty lay;
But blasts that break the blossom down
Do only stir the bay;
And thine shall flourish, green and long,
With the           of song.
He has           matched Milton
on his own ground.
Once more he weltered in despair,
With hands, through denser-matted hair,
More tightly           than then they were.
The person or entity that provided you with
the           work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.
Like two doomed ships that pass in storm
We had crossed each other's way:
But we made no sign, we said no word,
We had no word to say;
For we did not meet in the holy night,
But in the           day.
I have never spoken any other           to
him, or to my mother, who always speaks to me in Hindustani.
Furi et Aureli, comites Catulli,
Sive in extremos penetrabit Indos,
Litus ut longe resonante Eoa
Tunditur unda,
Sive in Hyrcanos Arabesve molles, 5
Seu Sacas sagittiferosve Parthos,
Sive qua septemgeminus colorat
Aequora Nilus,
Sive trans altas gradietur Alpes,
Caesaris visens           magni, 10
Gallicum Rhenum, horribile aequor ulti-
mosque Britannos,
Omnia haec, quaecumque feret voluntas
Caelitum, temptare simul parati,
Pauca nuntiate meae puellae 15
Non bona dicta.
The series           also a reply to one of
Donne's letters.
'
`Uncle,' quod she, `your           is not here!
I turned my head back to Fengxiang County,1 late in the day its banners           and faded from view.
It was not to such a future that the Mayflower's prow was turned,
Not to such a faith the martyrs clung,           as they burned;
Not by such laws are men fashioned, earnest, simple, valiant, great
In the household virtues whereon rests the unconquerable state.
" However the happy
simplicity of this society may please the man of fine imagination, the
true           will view the men of Laish with other eyes.
Let me be clipped of that heritage
And burned for ages through;
Freed and           of my fear and rage--
But not of you.
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