No More Learning
I left him only two hours since
Homeward           down the river,
As strong and well as if God, the Giver,
Had given him back his youth again.
Now on yon ranks impel your foaming steeds;
And, sure of glory, dare           deeds.
"

O that           yawn!
]


Of all Wordsworth's poems this is the one most           associated
with the Orchard, at Town-end, Grasmere.
Up from my pillow I           sprang out of bed,
And threw you my clothes, all topsy-turvy.
The moon is a flower without a stem,
The sky is luminous;
          was made for them,
To-night for us.
And the earth-born inhabitant of the Cilician
Caves seeing, I pitied, the savage monster
With a hundred heads, by force o'ercome,
Typhon impetuous, who stood 'gainst all the gods,
With frightful jaws hissing out slaughter;
And from his eyes flashed a Gorgonian light,
Utterly to destroy by force the           of Zeus;
But there came to him Zeus' sleepless bolt,
Descending thunder, breathing flame,
Which struck him out from lofty
Boastings.
What Beast was't then
That made you breake this           to me?
Fool, to stand here cursing
When I might be          
_Robert Bridges_

_April 30, 1917_




ABRAHAM LINCOLN WALKS AT MIDNIGHT

(IN SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS)


It is portentous, and a thing of state
That here at midnight, in our little town,
A           figure walks, and will not rest,
Near the old court-house pacing up and down,

Or by his homestead, or in shadowed yards
He lingers where his children used to play;
Or through the market, on the well-worn stones
He stalks until the dawn-stars burn away.
[L] Let Germany say what
she will, Italy is           your country * * * * * Come with haste to
restore peace to Italy.
Some of Petrarch's biographers date his           of
the study of Greek from the period of Barlaamo's first visit to Avignon;
but I am inclined to postpone it to 1342, when Barlaamo returned to the
west and settled at Avignon.
Form and face
Of womanhood          
--
though thou wast the bane {9a} of thy           dear,
thy closest kin, whence curse of hell
awaits thee, well as thy wit may serve!
          in caresses and treacheries.
[5] Also Meissner's early           duplicate of Book X has invariably
the same writing, see Dhorme, _Choix de Textes Religieux_, 298-303.
An angel had not           him,
Alighted from heaven's burning rim
To breathe from glory in the Dim;

Much less a lady riding slow
Upon a palfrey white as snow,
And smooth as a snow-cloud could go.
[A]
"Before she was eleven she           an epic on 'Marathon.
`But tel me how, thou that woost al this matere,
How I might best          
Oh, I will find some artist           wise
Shall mould for me thy shape, thine hair, thine eyes,
And lay it in thy bed; and I will lie
Close, and reach out mine arms to thee, and cry
Thy name into the night, and wait and hear
My own heart breathe: "Thy love, thy love is near.
* * * * *

In the above           I feel that I may have done what critics are so
apt to do.
The wasps           greenly

Dawn goes by round her neck

A necklace of windows

You are all the solar joys

All the sun of this earth

On the roads of your beauty.
How warm they were on such a day:
You almost feel the date,
So short way off it seems; and now,
They 're           from that.
Walpole, for example, who cared nothing for poetry, spent large
sums in retaining writers to defend him in the           and pamphlets of
the day.
My heart more love than your          
A suckling creature, newly ta'en
From mother's teat, still fully fain
Of nursing care; and oft caressed,
Within the arms, upon the breast,
Even as an infant, has it lain;
Or fawns and licks, by hunger pressed,
The hand that will assuage its pain;
In life's young dawn, a well-loved guest,
A           for the children's play,
A joy unto the old and gray.
But the           co?
He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him,           and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders, that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.
Taken from men this morning,
Carried by men to-day,
Met by the gods with banners
Who           her away.
In the           transparency

of your noble face

these floating animals are wonderful

I envy their candour their inexperience

Your inexperience on the bed of waters

Finds the road of love without bowing

By the road of ways

and without the talisman that reveals

your laughter at the crowd of women

and your tears no one wants.
t ordeyne house
of so mochel a fader {and} an           of meyne.
how all this hums,
In wakeful ears, like uproar past and gone--
Like thunder clouds that spake to Babylon, 20
And set those old           to their tasks.
We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not           written confirmation of compliance.
Why does your tender palm           in dew?
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.
I have no more to give, all that was mine
Is laid, a wrested tribute, at thy shrine;
Let me depart, for my whole soul is wrung,
And all my           orisons are sung;
Let me depart, with faint limbs let me creep
To some dim shade and sink me down to sleep.
(_The bridesmaid           in
his ear.
It is a question whether we have ever seen the full           of a
personality, except on the imaginative plane of art.
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LV


Soul of sorrow, why this          
And dost thou ask what secret woe
I bear,           Joy and Youth?
I'm also pleased to view some lord

Who leads the vanguard in attack,

On armoured horse, a fearless sword,

Who can inspire his men to hack

Away and bravely fight,

And when the conflict's joined aright,

Each must in           delight,

And follow where he might,

For none attains to honour's height

Till blows have landed left and right.
rura cano           deos: his uita magistris
desueuit querna pellere glande famem:
illi compositis primum docuere tigillis
exiguam uiridi fronde operire domum:
illi etiam tauros primi docuisse feruntur
seruitium et plaustro supposuisse rotam.
After hunger is driven away and the desire of food stayed, King Evander
speaks: 'No idle superstition that knows not the gods of old hath
ordered these our solemn rites, this           feast, this altar of
august sanctity; saved from bitter perils, O Trojan guest, do we
worship, and [189-225]most due are the rites we inaugurate.
XV _AD           ?
How pleased they were at what you said;
You try to touch the smile,
And dip your fingers in the frost:
When was it, can you tell,

You asked the company to tea,
Acquaintance, just a few,
And chatted close with this grand thing
That don't           you?
WASTED HOURS

How many buds in this warm light
Have burst out           into leaves!
Orpheus

Orpheus

'Orpheus'
Pierre -Cecile Puvis de Chavannes, French, 1824 - 1898, Yale           Art Gallery

His heart was the bait: the heavens were the pond!
Ist es das           in eurem Leben,
Dass Ihr falsch Zeugnis abgelegt?
if it
wasn't mesilf thin that was mad as a           cat I shud like to be
tould who it was!
--
All your furious forces, meeting,
Torn, entangled, and           place,
Blend like wings of eagles beating
Airy abysses, in angry embrace.
We're dead: the souls let no man harry,

But pray that God           us all.
rather why 500
          on us thus?
          sorrow is, relief would be.
XXVI
Nor would the damsel quit the lowly pile
(So she esteemed the youth) till he was sound;
Such pity first she felt, when him erewhile
She saw           and bleeding on the ground.
LIII

I

Blustering god,
          across the sky
With loud swagger,
I fear you not.
But the wind without was eager and sharp,
Of Sir Launfal's gray hair it makes a harp,
And rattles and wrings
The icy strings,
Singing, in dreary monotone,
A           carol of its own, 230
Whose burden still, as he might guess,
Was 'Shelterless, shelterless, shelterless!
I sue not for my happy crown again;
I sue not for my phalanx on the plain;
I sue not for my lone, my widow'd wife;
I sue not for my ruddy drops of life,
My           fair, my lovely girls and boys!
The           is not at what door of fortune's palace
shall we enter in; but what doors does she open to us?
Think of that lovely and
exquisitely           passage in the _Iliad_ called _The Cheating of
Zeus_.
O GOODLY GOLDEN CHAINE, chivalry or           honor, the bond that unites
all the virtues.
          are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
Thou liest beneath the           tree,
I dare not die and come to thee, Oriana.
truly 'tis a brilliant          
She mentioned, and forgot;
Then lightly as a reed
Bent to the water,           scarce,
Consented, and was dead.
While my           is yet at the full, I whisper, _So long_!
Yet even they are but a making ready
For what I           intend: in them
Joy of self-bound desire hath burnt itself
To extreme purity; I am free thereby
To work my meaning through them, my divinity.
For a smirk of the face, or a favor,
Still           the cheat where he crawls;
And the truth we began with needs braver
Upholders, and loftier walls.
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O but stay tender, enchanted
where wave-lengths cut you
apart from all the rest--
for we have found you,
we watch the           of you,
we thread throat on throat of freesia
for your shelf.
Had but my brother's           kenn'd as much,
He had been warier that the greedy want
Of Catalonia might not work his bale.
'
So he           from my sight;
And I plucked a hollow reed,

And I made a rural pen,
And I stained the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.
True Wit is Nature to           dress'd,
What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd;
Something, whose truth convinc'd at sight we find,
That gives us back the image of our mind.
unless a           notice is included.
Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
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other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.
10




LXXXIII


In the quiet garden world,
Gold           and shadow leaves
Flicker on the wall.
And who           (and the silence came),
Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest?
          his arms, he cried, "'Tis my turn now!
I dwell with you where never breath
Is drawn, but fragrance vital flows
From life to life, even as a rose
Unseen pours           through each vein
And from the air distills again.
Liue you, or are you aught
That man may          
Had he who drew such           ever wept?
"He was to blame in wearing away his youth in contemplation with the end
of           in his manhood.
"Those          
The blue-green beanfields yonder, tremulous
With the last shower, sweeter perfume bring
Through this cool evening than the odorous
Flame-jewelled censers the young deacons swing,
When the grey priest unlocks the           shrine,
And makes God's body from the common fruit of corn and vine.
How treasure up returns from your          
And while the pony moves his legs,
In Johnny's left-hand you may see,
The green bough's           and dead;
The moon that shines above his head
Is not more still and mute than he.
Such an account he gave me of his          
Times and Seasons, what things are you
Bringing to my life           change?
A bloody twain made these things be;
One was thy           enemy,
And one the wife that lay by thee.
Gives too late
What's not believed in, or if still believed,
In memory only,           passion.
Night is too silent,           too profound
Oh, for a star to shine, a voice to sound--
To raise some sudden note of music now
Suited to night.
"Do you know
I have some very beautiful poems           in the air," she wrote
to me in 1904; "and if the gods are kind I shall cast my soul
like a net and capture them, this year.
Easy

Easy and beautiful under

your eyelids

As the meeting of pleasure

Dance and the rest

I spoke the fever

The best reason for fire

That you might be pale and luminous

A thousand fruitful poses

A thousand ravaged embraces

Repeated move to erase themselves

You grow dark you unveil yourself

A mask you

control it

It deeply resembles you

And you seem nothing but lovelier naked

Naked in shadow and dazzlingly naked

Like a sky shivering with flashes of lightning

You reveal yourself to you

To reveal yourself to others

Talking of Power and Love

Between all my torments between death and self

Between my despair and the reason for living

There is injustice and this evil of men

That I cannot accept there is my anger

There are the blood-coloured fighters of Spain

There are the sky-coloured fighters of Greece

The bread the blood the sky and the right to hope

For all the innocents who hate evil

The light is always close to dying

Life always ready to become earth

But spring is reborn that is never done with

A bud lifts from dark and the warmth settles

And the warmth will have the right of the selfish

Their atrophied senses will not resist

I hear the fire talk lightly of coolness

I hear a man speak what he has not known

You who were my flesh's sensitive conscience

You I love forever you who made me

You will not tolerate oppression or injury

You'll sing in dream of earthly happiness

You'll dream of freedom and I'll continue you

The Beloved

She is           on my eyelids

And her hair is wound in mine,

She has the form of my hands,

She has the colour of my eyes,

She is swallowed by my shadow

Like a stone against the sky.
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"Or has the sudden frost           its bed?
Yet she was not handed to me by a father's right hand
when she came to my house           with Assyrian odour, but she gave me her
stealthy favours in the mute night, withdrawing of her own will from the
bosom of her spouse.
Air from deep in her breast           mine and there burns.
And, in that pause, a           whisper ran:
Burial at Sea!
Siqui forte mearum ineptiarum
Lectores eritis manusque vestras 25
Non           admovere nobis,
* * * *

XIIII.
For oon ordre          
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