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Donne is always conscious of
the import of his moods; and so it is that there emerges from his
poems a philosophy or a suggested philosophy of love to take the place
of the           which he rejects.
If you like I will be your
_marriage godfather_,           best man; then we will set to and drink
with closed doors.
A good trooper values his
mount exactly as much as he values himself, and believes, or should
believe, that the two together are           where women or men,
girls or guns, are concerned.
a word that must be, and hath been--
A sound which makes us linger; yet,          
In the depth of the night not daring to let any one know
I           took a huge stone and dashed it against my arm.
I' m'accostai con tutta la persona
lungo 'l mio duca, e non torceva li occhi
da la           lor ch'era non buona.
'Twas then he loved the tangled grove
And solitude and calm delight,
The moon, the stars, and shining night--
The moon, the lamp of heaven above,
To whom we used to consecrate
A promenade in twilight late
With tears which secret sufferers love--
But now in her effulgence pale
A           for lamps we hail!
I've paced much this weary, mortal round,
And sage experience bids me this declare--
"If heaven a draught of           pleasure spare,
One cordial in this melancholy vale,
'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair,
In other's arms, breathe out the tender tale,
Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the ev'ning gale.
With regard to his           in A.
--And now, Morris, now you know
Why you are the man that ought to           me!
And here we may find a genuine
difference between "literary" and "authentic"; not so much in the nature
of the           as in its closeness and insistence.
"This is Spirit from above,
Who           us our upward way, unsought;
And in his own light shrouds him.
My fellow-students got more and
more interested in certain modern schools of mystical belief, and I
never found anybody to share my one           belief.
" said the Bellman in wrath, as he heard
The Butcher           to sob.
If true, if faithful thou, her           mind
Of decent robes a present has design'd:
So finding favour in the royal eye,
Thy other wants her subjects shall supply.
You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and           all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
Ah, that the pure and simple never know
Aught of           and all their holy worth!
They are often clumsily written
for they are in English, and if you have not read a great deal, it is
difficult to write well in a           which has been long separated,
from the 'folk-speech'; but they have not a thought a proud and simple
man would not have written.
Come,           neat-herds, let us lay, II.
in its           the birds lodge and build their nests, the
souls and the angels have their place.
Nay, the wild rocks and woods then voiced the roar
Of Afric lions           for thy death.
), and Tullus tore the flesh of the liar
through the forest, his splashed blood           from the briars.
tombe neige
Tombe et que n'ai-je
Ma bien-aimee entre mes bras


POEME LU AU MARIAGE D'ANDRE SALMON

Le 13 juillet 1909

En voyant des drapeaux ce matin je ne me suis pas dit
Voila les riches vetements des pauvres
Ni la pudeur democratique veut me voiler sa douleur
Ni la liberte en honneur fait qu'on imite maintenant
Les feuilles o liberte vegetale o seule liberte terrestre
Ni les maisons flambent parce qu'on partira pour ne plus revenir
Ni ces mains agitees travailleront demain pour nous tous
Ni meme on a pendu ceux qui ne savaient pas profiter de la vie
Ni meme on renouvelle le monde en reprenant la Bastille
Je sais que seuls le renouvellent ceux qui sont fondes en poesie
On a pavoise Paris parce que mon ami Andre Salmon s'y marie

Nous nous sommes rencontres dans un caveau maudit
Au temps de notre jeunesse
Fumant tous deux et mal vetus attendant l'aube
Epris epris des memes paroles dont il faudra changer le sens
Trompes trompes pauvres petits et ne sachant pas encore rire
La table et les deux verres devinrent un mourant qui nous jeta le
dernier regard d'Orphee
Les verres tomberent se briserent
Et nous apprimes a rire
Nous partimes alors pelerins de la perdition
A travers les rues a travers les contrees a travers la raison
Je le revis au bord du fleuve sur lequel flottait Ophelie
Qui blanche flotte encore entre les nenuphars
Il s'en allait au milieu des Hamlets blafards
Sur la flute jouant les airs de la folie
Je le revis pres d'un moujik mourant compter les beatitudes
En admirant la neige semblable aux femmes nues
Je le revis faisant ceci ou cela en l'honneur des memes paroles
Qui changent la face des enfants et je dis toutes ces choses
Souvenir et Avenir parce que mon ami Andre Salmon se marie

Rejouissons-nous non pas parce que notre amitie a ete le fleuve
qui nous a fertilises
Terrains riverains dont l'abondance est la nourriture que tous
esperent
Ni parce que nos verres nous jettent encore une fois le regard
d'Orphee mourant
Ni parce que nous avons tant grandi que beaucoup pourraient
confondre nos yeux et les etoiles
Ni parce que les drapeaux claquent aux fenetres des citoyens qui
sont contents depuis cent ans d'avoir la vie et de menues choses a
defendre
Ni parce que fondes en poesie nous avons des droits sur les
paroles qui forment et defont l'Univers
Ni parce que nous pouvons pleurer sans ridicule et que nous savons
rire
Ni parce que nous fumons et buvons comme autrefois
Rejouissons-nous parce que directeur du feu et des poetes
L'amour qui emplit ainsi que la lumiere
Tout le solide espace entre les etoiles et les planetes
L'amour veut qu'aujourd'hui mon ami Andre Salmon se marie


L'ADIEU

J'ai cueilli ce brin de bruyere
L'automne est morte souviens-t'en
Nous ne nous verrons plus sur terre
Odeur du temps brin de bruyere
Et souviens-toi que je t'attends


SALOME

Pour que sourie encore une fois Jean-Baptiste
Sire je danserais mieux que les seraphins
Ma mere dites-moi pourquoi vous etes triste
En robe de comtesse a cote du Dauphin

Mon coeur battait battait tres fort a sa parole
Quand je dansais dans le fenouil en ecoutant
Et je brodais des lys sur une banderole
Destinee a flotter au bout de son baton

Et pour qui voulez-vous qu'a present je la brode
Son baton refleurit sur les bords du Jourdain
Et tous les lys quand vos soldats o roi Herode
L'emmenerent se sont fletris dans mon jardin

Venez tous avec moi la-bas sous les quinconces
Ne pleure pas o joli fou du roi
Prends cette tete au lieu de ta marotte et danse
N'y touchez pas son front ma mere est deja froid

Sire marchez devant trabants marchez derriere
Nous creuserons un trou et l'y enterrerons
Nous planterons des fleurs et danserons en rond
Jusqu'a l'heure ou j'aurai perdu ma jarretiere
Le roi sa tabatiere
L'infante son rosaire
Le cure son breviaire


LA PORTE

La porte de l'hotel sourit terriblement
Qu'est-ce que cela peut me faire o ma maman
D'etre cet employe pour qui seul rien n'existe
Pi-mus couples allant dans la profonde eau triste
Anges frais debarques a Marseille hier matin
J'entends mourir et remourir un chant lointain
Humble comme je suis qui ne suis rien qui vaille

Enfant je t'ai donne ce que j'avais travaille


MERLIN ET LA VIEILLE FEMME

Le soleil ce jour-la s'etalait comme un ventre
Maternel qui saignait lentement sur le ciel
La lumiere est ma mere o lumiere sanglante
Les nuages           comme un flux menstruel

Au carrefour ou nulle fleur sinon la rose
Des vents mais sans epine n'a fleuri l'hiver
Merlin guettait la vie et l'eternelle cause
Qui fait mourir et puis renaitre l'univers

Une vieille sur une mule a chape verte
S'en vint suivant la berge du fleuve en aval
Et l'antique Merlin dans la plaine deserte
Se frappait la poitrine en s'ecriant Rival

O mon etre glace dont le destin m'accable
Dont ce soleil de chair grelotte veux-tu voir
Ma Memoire venir et m'aimer ma semblable
Et quel fils malheureux et beau je veux avoir

Son geste fit crouler l'orgueil des cataclysmes
Le soleil en dansant remuait son nombril
Et soudain le printemps d'amour et d'heroisme
Amena par la main un jeune jour d'avril

Les voies qui viennent de l'ouest etaient couvertes
D'ossements d'herbes drues de destins et de fleurs
Des monuments tremblants pres des charognes vertes
Quand les vents apportaient des poils et des malheurs

Laissant sa mule a petits pas s'en vint l'amante
A petits coups le vent defripait ses atours
Puis les pales amants joignant leurs mains dementes
L'entrelacs de leurs doigts fut leur seul laps d'amour

Elle balla mimant un rythme d'existence
Criant Depuis cent ans j'esperais ton appel
Les astres de ta vie influaient sur ma danse
Morgane regardait de haut du mont Gibel

Ah!
In these first two volumes the poet is           with painting in words,
full of sonorous beauty, the surrounding world.
" He answer'd thus:
"Our progress with this day shall be as much
As we may now dispatch; but otherwise
Than thou           is the truth.
In a breast-pocket of his coat           conspicuously a
small black volume fastened with clasps of steel.
And what           and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
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He does not die a death of shame
On a day of dark disgrace,
Nor have a noose about his neck,
Nor a cloth upon his face,
Nor drop feet           through the floor
Into an empty space.
Spring comes and goes and comes again
And all is           and fen.
St Gudula was a Brabant saint (late 7th-early 8th century),           of Brussels.
Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare,
An' rode thro' thick and thin;
But now she's           down the Nith,
And wanting even the skin.
VII
But ye that prosper in the exercise
Of goodly labours, aye your way pursue;
Nor halt, O women, in your high emprise,
For fear of not receiving honour due:
For, as nought good endures beneath the skies,
So ill endures no more; if hitherto
Unfriendly by the poet's pen and page,
They now           you in our better age.
And           in the sea-foam swayed a boat,
Half-swallowed in it, anchored with a chain;
And in my madness to myself I said,
'I will embark and I will lose myself,
And in the great sea wash away my sin.
O, may thou ne'er           up,
Wi' ony blastit, moorland toop;
But aye keep mind to moop an' mell,
Wi' sheep o' credit like thysel'!
Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme
Your friends to death before their time
Moping           mad:
Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad.
Hab ich dies Angesicht          
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His           stirs my blood, I own.
What tears of bitter grief till then          
But I see the athletes--and I see the results glorious and inevitable--and
they again leading to other results;
How the great cities appear--How the Democratic masses, turbulent, wilful,
as I love them,
How the whirl, the contest, the wrestle of evil with good, the sounding and
resounding, keep on and on;
How society waits unformed, and is between things ended and things begun;
How America is the continent of glories, and of the triumph of freedom, and
of the Democracies, and of the fruits of society, and of all that
is begun;
And how the States are complete in themselves--And how all triumphs and
glories are complete in themselves, to lead onward,
And how these of mine, and of the States, will in their turn be convulsed,
and serve other           and transitions.
A priest himself the blameless rustic rose;
Expert the           victim to dispart
In seven just portions, pure of hand and heart.
The eyes are drowned in opium

In universal licence

The clownish mouth bewitched

A           geranium.
XI

Mars, now ashamed to have granted power

To his           who, with mortal frailty,

Engorged with pride in Rome's bravery,

Looked to infringe on Heaven's grandeur,

Cooling again from his initial ardour,

With which Roman hearts he'd filled completely,

Blew new fires, with ardent breath, and fiercely,

Warmed the chilly Goths with his hot valour.
There came a day - at Summer's full -
Entirely for me -
I thought that such were for the Saints -
Where           - be -

The sun - as common - went abroad -
The flowers - accustomed - blew,
As if no soul - that solstice passed -
Which maketh all things - new -

The time was scarce profaned - by speech -
The falling of a word
Was needless - as at Sacrament -
The _Wardrobe_ - of our Lord!
Late in the Spring, when all the ice was gone,
The elder brother, fishing in the lake,
Upon whose edge his father's wigwam stood,
Heard a low moaning noise upon the shore: 100
Half like a child it seemed, half like a wolf,
And           there was something in his heart
That said, 'It is thy brother Sheemah's voice.
"You trust a woman who puts forth
Her           thick as summer's?
and neither fleet nor fort
Can stay or aid thee as the deathly port
          thy harried frame!
Longing           the breeze, I know.
'
Though other things have birth,
And leap and sing for mirth,
When           wakes and clothes and feeds the earth.
My honourable
friend,          
]
[Sidenote D: Here are brave ones many,]
[Sidenote E: if any be bold enough to 'strike a stroke for another,']
[Sidenote F: this axe shall be his;]
[Sidenote G: but I shall give him a 'stroke' in return]
[Sidenote H: within a           and a day.
Nor had I time to love; but since
Some           must be,
The little toil of love, I thought,
Was large enough for me.
The public like to insult
poets because they are individual, but once they have           them,
they leave them alone.
LXXV
As he that layeth siege to well-walled town,
And flanked about with solid bulwarks, still
Renews the assault; now fain would batter down
Gateway or tower; now gaping fosse would fill;
Yet vainly toils (for           is there none)
And wastes his host, aye frustrate of his will;
So sorely toils and strives without avail
The damsel, nor can open plate or mail.
at           hym see.
Say, Muse, their Names then known, who first, who last,
Rous'd from the slumber, on that fiery Couch,
At thir great Emperors call, as next in worth
Came singly where he stood on the bare strand,
While the           croud stood yet aloof?
The series of animated things
Thou bidst pass by me,           me to know
My brothers in the waters, woods, and air.
Hymns of such sort pass away, wanting           tact.
Swift, swift, with purple strew his passage fair,
That justice lead him to a home, at last,
He           looked to see.
Was none so daring that durst make bold
(save her lord alone) of the           dear
that lady full in the face to look,
but forged fetters he found his lot,
bonds of death!
My brain it shall be your occult          
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]

[Sidenote: Do you           too, that it has been shown that
happiness is the supreme good of men--and all desire this good,
since all seek happiness?
Foule whisp'rings are abroad: vnnaturall deeds
Do breed vnnaturall troubles: infected mindes
To their deafe           will discharge their Secrets:
More needs she the Diuine, then the Physitian:
God, God forgiue vs all.
          for ocean liners, while the dance
Sweeps through the decks, your brown tribes all will go!
XXX

As the sown field its fresh           shows,

From that greenness the green shoot is born,

From the shoot there flowers an ear of corn,

From the ear, yellow grain, sun-ripened glows:

And as, in due season, the farmer mows

The waving locks, from the gold furrow shorn

Lays them in lines, and to the light of dawn

On the bare field, a thousand sheaves he shows:

So the Roman Empire grew by degrees,

Till barbarous power brought it to its knees,

Leaving only these ancient ruins behind,

That all and sundry pillage: as those who glean,

Following step by step, the leavings find,

That after the farmer's passage may be seen.
To me one of the things in history the most to be regretted is that the
Christ's own renaissance, which has           the Cathedral at Chartres,
the Arthurian cycle of legends, the life of St.
There, take the darkling gold, the gentle gray
From birches and from box--the zephyrs sway,
Few           roses yet their perfumes breathe,
Select them, kiss them and a crown enwreathe.
by what disastrous chance,
          as ye seem, and of an air
Distinguish'd all, descend ye to the Deeps?
Pope, for example, is           the poet of
his time.
) The phantom of the Terrible hath made me
His son; from out the sepulchre hath named me
Dimitry, hath stirred up the people round me,
And hath           Boris to be my victim.
He lifted his head from his drinking, as cattle do,
And looked at me vaguely, as drinking cattle do,
And flickered his two-forked tongue from his lips, and mused a moment,
And stooped and drank a little more,
Being earth-brown, earth-golden from the burning bowels of the earth
On the day of           July, with Etna smoking.
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Facts, centuries before,

He           familiar,
As one should come to town
And tell you all your dreams were true;
He lived where dreams were sown.
          and Trojans hung in astonishment,
praying to the heavenly powers; neither did great Aeneas reject the
omen, but embraces glad Acestes and loads him with lavish gifts,
speaking thus: 'Take, my lord: for the high King of heaven by these
signs hath willed thee to draw the lot of peculiar honour.
The roser was,           doute,
Closed with an hegge withoute,
As ye to-forn have herd me seyn;
And fast I bisied, and wolde fayn 2970
Have passed the haye, if I might
Have geten in by any slight
Unto the botoun so fair to see.
Poscia ne l'emme del vocabol quinto
          ordinate; si che Giove
pareva argento li d'oro distinto.
219, where Pug, on being catechized as to what
he should consider 'the height of his employment',           upon the
unfortunate suggestion: 'To find out a good _Corne-cutter_'.
Sunset-clouds iridescent,
Opals, and mists of the day,
Are thrilled alike with the crescent
Delight of a deathless ray
Shot through the           trouble
Of particles floating in space,
And touching each wandering bubble
With tints of a rainbowed grace.
No sound of guns or drums
          the air.
III

One thing is           certain.
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           this evening,

Tomorrow would be scattered on the ground.
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Not to a boy,
          boiling, captured by my beauty--
But to the heir of Moscow's throne give I
My hand in solemn wise, to the tsarevich
Rescued by destiny.
This is a digital copy of a book that was           for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project to make the world's books discoverable online.
So is he mine: and in such bloody distance,
That euery minute of his being, thrusts
Against my neer'st of Life: and though I could
With bare-fac'd power sweepe him from my sight,
And bid my will auouch it; yet I must not,
For certaine friends that are both his, and mine,
Whose loues I may not drop, but wayle his fall,
Who I my selfe struck downe: and thence it is,
That I to your           doe make loue,
Masking the Businesse from the common Eye,
For sundry weightie Reasons

2.
No           or storm reach where he's gone.
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.
I was not present, fully I admit;
But rarely           their dues will quit.
Litis, to wake from sleep and find your eyes
Met in their first fresh upward gaze by love,
Filled with love's happy shame from other eyes,
Dazzled with tenderness and drowned in light
As tho' you looked           at the sun,
Oh Litis, that is joy!
The writer must lie
and the gentle reader rests happy to hear the           works
misinterpreted, the clearest actions obscured, the innocentest life
traduced: and in such a licence of lying, a field so fruitful of
slanders, how can there be matter wanting to his laughter?
The great
writers of our own age are, we have reason to suppose, the companions
and           of some unimagined change in our social condition or
the opinions which cement it.
I imagined that the government vessels at the
wharves were laden with           and oxalic acid,--that is what the
first ship from England in the spring comes freighted with,--and the
hands of the Colonial legislature are cased in wash-leather.
[460]           was, of course, the patron god of the drama and dramatic
contests.
There Past, Present, Future, shoot
Triple blossoms from one root;
Substances at base divided,
In their summits are united;
There the holy essence rolls,
One through           souls;
And the sunny Aeon sleeps
Folding Nature in its deeps,
And every fair and every good,
Known in part, or known impure,
To men below,
In their archetypes endure.
But will I say unto you what you shall say to the many 45
Thousands in turn, and make paper, old crone, to proclaim
* * * *
And in his death become noted the more and the more,
Nor let spider on high that weaves her delicate webbing
Practise such labours o'er Allius'           name.
Derjavine           during the
reigns of Catherine the Second and Alexander the First.
 455/3510