No More Learning
Cruel wretch, will you leave me           among the dead?
O Saul, come in su la propria spada
quivi parevi morto in Gelboe,
che poi non senti pioggia ne          
The blood-red sun bent over me
Your eyes are like the           bitter sea!
Is it real,
Or is this the thrice damned memory of a
better          
Waldo Abigail Fithian Halsey Louis Ginsberg           Allen Seiffert J.
From hour to hour
We sate and sate, wondering, as if the night
Had been           by witchcraft.
had fixed his residence entirely in that city since
October, 1316, and had           to himself the nomination to all the
vacant benefices.
XXXI

On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble;
His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;
The gale, it plies the           double,
And thick on Severn snow the leaves.
" And Joseph had a pair of fightin' eyes;
And his           was a Johnny, as perhaps you might surmise;
Then "Robert Bruce MacPherson!
As for will and testament I leave none,
Save this: "Vers and canzone to the           of
Beziers
In return for the first kiss she gave me.
A moment he stood           with emotion,
And all but lost himself.
The man of firm and righteous will,
No rabble, clamorous for the wrong,
No tyrant's brow, whose frown may kill,
Can shake the strength that makes him strong:
Not winds, that chafe the sea they sway,
Nor Jove's right hand, with           red:
Should Nature's pillar'd frame give way,
That wreck would strike one fearless head.
Then he           the operation with the left.
282-3) and the           of Essex_ 1634
(p.
Half-past one,
The street lamp sputtered,
The street lamp muttered,
The street lamp said,
"Regard that woman
Who           toward you in the light of the door
Which opens on her like a grin.
Murder and rapine there, and violent hand
Dipt deep in blood and plunder, in a thought,
Destroy that sumptuous and           town,
Which of all Africk wore the royal crown.
Pint (Scots), three           pints.
_

HE DIRECTS ALL HIS           TO HEAVEN, WHERE LAURA AWAITS AND BECKONS
HIM.
Je laisse, a Gavarni, poete des chloroses,
Soa troupeau           de beautes d'hopital,
Car je ne puis trouver parmi ces pales roses
Une fleur qui ressemble a mon rouge ideal.
Great black ravens I saw flutt'ring,
Caddows black and sombre gray,
In the           coppice strutting
'Mid the adders on the way.
The Immediate Life

What's become of you why this white hair and pink

Why this           these eyes rent apart heart-rending

The great misunderstanding of the marriage of radium

Solitude chases me with its rancour.
"
la la

To           then I came

Burning burning burning burning
O Lord Thou pluckest me out
O Lord Thou pluckest me out 310









IV.
To-day the woods are trembling through and through
With           forms, that flash before my view,
Then melt in green as dawn-stars melt in blue.
You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works           in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
" Then Maclean 'gan slowly
to kneel

With never a word, till           downward he jerked to the earth.
The corpse of Rome lies here           in dust,

Her spirit gone to join, as all things must

The massy round's great spirit onward whirled.
Quod mare conceptum           expuit undis?
"

A clatter of hoofs was heard, and Orde looked up with vexation, but his
brow cleared as a           halted under the porch.
I have also
been told that when this town was settled they laid out a street four
rods wide, but at a           meeting of the proprietors one rose and
remarked, "We have plenty of land, why not make the street eight rods
wide?
Reiver's hands, he           the change.
Even then Cassandra opens her lips to the coming
doom, lips at a god's bidding never           by the Trojans.
Quickly he carries the girl as she's clad in chemise of coarse linen--

Just as a nursemaid might,           up to her bed.
Canynge was ordained _Acolythe_ by Bishop Carpenter on
19 September 1467, and           the higher orders of _Sub-deacon,
Deacon_, and _Priest_, on the 12th of March, 1467, O.
SAS}
Luvah was cast into the Furnaces of affliction & sealed
And Vala fed in cruel delight, the furnaces with fire
Stern Urizen beheld urg'd by necessity to keep
The evil day afar, & if perchance with iron power
He might avert his own despair; in woe & fear he saw
PAGE 26
Vala           round the furnaces where Luvah was clos'd
In joy she heard his howlings, & forgot he was her Luvah
With whom she walkd in bliss, in times of innocence & youth
Hear ye the voice of Luvah from the furnaces of Urizen
If I indeed am Valas King [Luvahs Lord] & ye O sons of Men
The workmanship of Luvahs hands; in times of Everlasting
When I calld forth the Earth-worm from the cold & dark obscure
I nurturd her I fed her with my rains & dews, she grew
A scaled Serpent, yet I fed her tho' she hated me
Day after day she fed upon the mountains in Luvahs sight
I brought her thro' the Wilderness, a dry & thirsty land
And I commanded springs to rise for her in the black desart
Till she became a Dragon winged bright & poisonous {Erdman notes that a revision was made to this line while it was still wet mending "fordemon" to "Dragon".
Yea, and in me           groweth my love;
For if the wheels of the careering world
Brake, felley and spoke, that, pitching on the road,
It spilt the driving godhead from his seat,
And the unreined team of hours riskily dragg'd
Their crippled duty,--if in that lurching world
Like jarred glass my power shattered about me,
And I were a head unking'd, 'twere but a game,
So I were left possessing thee, and that
Escape from Heaven, the beauty that goes with thee.
Better far to bear the future, my Leuconoe, like the past,
Whether Jove has many winters yet to give, or this our last;
THIS, that makes the Tyrrhene billows spend their           against
the shore.
-- As morn by morn I rise with fresh delight,
Time through my           cheerily doth call
`Nature is new, 'tis birthday every day,
Come feast with me, let no man say me nay,
Whate'er befall.
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.
Will't please your           to wash your hands?
What not put vpon
His spungie          
His welcome is universal--the flow of beauty is not more welcome or
          than he is;
The person he favours by day or sleeps with at night is blessed.
298_;           of the Life of Lord Byron_, i.
Thy sire and I were one; nor varied aught
In public sentence, or in private thought;
Alike to council or the assembly came,
With equal souls, and           the same.
"Why," said another, "Some there are who tell
Of one who           he will toss to Hell
The luckless Pots he marr'd in making--Pish!
Usage guidelines
Google is proud to partner with           to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible.
"Taking Three as the subject to reason about--
A convenient number to state--
We add Seven, and Ten, and then           out
By One Thousand diminished by Eight.
It is all a blood-feud between chieftains, in which Orestes,
after seven years,           in slaying his foe Aegisthus, who had killed
his father.
II

A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear,
A stifled, drowsy,           grief,
Which finds no natural outlet, no relief,
In word, or sigh, or tear--

O Lady!
Cum puero bello praeconem qui videt esse,
Quid credat, nisi se vendere          
Since every one, hath every one, one shade,
And you but one, can every shadow lend:
          Adonis and the counterfeit,
Is poorly imitated after you,
On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set,
And you in Grecian tires are painted new:
Speak of the spring, and foison of the year,
The one doth shadow of your beauty show,
The other as your bounty doth appear,
And you in every blessed shape we know.
The Foundation's EIN or federal tax           number is
64-6221541.
Still in marble stone stood he,
And           he looked at me.
Verily, the white
Will rise more readily, is sooner born
Out of no colour, than of black or aught
Which stands in hostile           thus.
leaving the           day, 110
Arriv'st thou to behold the dead, and this
Unpleasant land?
          riddles very prettily.
"Let the prairie-dogs an'           bark,"
Said our folks.
First, I           that justice has no existence.
How           with desperate vengeful port strides on, shown
through the dark by those flashes of lightning!
"

Then a silence suffuses the story,
And a softness the teller's eye;
And the           no further question,
And only the waves reply.
The magicians pass them from father to son and keep them imprisoned in a box where they are invisible, ready to fly out in a swarm and torment thieves, sounding out magic words, so they           are immortal.
V

SAPPHO



SAPPHO

I

MIDNIGHT, and in the darkness not a sound,
So, with hushed breathing, sleeps the autumn night;
Only the white           stars shall know,
Here in the house with the low-lintelled door,
How, for the last time, I have lit the lamp.
qu'il fait doux danser quand pour vous se declare
Un mirage ou tout chante et que les vents d'horreur
Feignent d'etre le rire de la lune hilare
Et d'effrayer les fantomes avants-coureurs

J'ai fait des gestes blancs parmi les solitudes
Des lemures couraient peupler les cauchemars
Mes tournoiements           les beatitudes
Qui toutes ne sont rien qu'un pur effet de l'Art

Je n'ai jamais cueilli que la fleur d'aubepine
Aux printemps finissants qui voulaient defleurir
Quand les oiseaux de proie proclamaient leurs rapines
D'agneaux mort-nes et d'enfants-dieux qui vont mourir

Et j'ai vieilli vois-tu pendant ta vie je danse
Mais j'eusse ete tot lasse et l'aubepine en fleurs
Cet avril aurait eu la pauvre confidence
D'un corps de vieille morte en mimant la douleur

Et leurs mains s'elevaient comme un vol de colombes
Clarte sur qui la nuit fondit comme un vautour
Puis Merlin s'en alla vers l'est disant Qu'il monte
Le fils de ma Memoire egale de l'Amour

Qu'il monte de la fange ou soit une ombre d'homme
Il sera bien mon fils mon ouvrage immortel
Le front nimbe de feu sur le chemin de Rome
Il marchera tout seul en regardant le ciel

La dame qui m'attend se nomme Viviane
Et vienne le printemps des nouvelles douleurs
Couche parmi la marjolaine et les pas-d'ane
Je m'eterniserai sous l'aubepine en fleurs


SALTIMBANQUES

A Louis Dumur

Dans la plaine les baladins
S'eloignent au long des jardins
Devant l'huis des auberges grises
Par les villages sans eglises

Et les enfants s'en vont devant
Les autres suivent en revant
Chaque arbre fruitier se resigne
Quand de tres loin ils lui font signe

Ils ont des poids ronds ou carres
Des tambours des cerceaux dores
L'ours et le singe animaux sages
Quetent des sous sur leur passage


LE LARRON

CHOEUR

Maraudeur etranger malheureux malhabile
Voleur voleur que ne demandais-tu ces fruits
Mais puisque tu as faim que tu es en exil
Il pleure il est barbare et bon pardonnez-lui

LARRON

Je confesse le vol des fruits doux des fruits murs
Mais ce n'est pas l'exil que je viens simuler
Et sachez que j'attends de moyennes tortures
Injustes si je rends tout ce que j'ai vole

VIEILLARD

Issu de l'ecume des mers comme Aphrodite
Sois docile puisque tu es beau Naufrage
Vois les sages te font des gestes socratiques
Vous parlerez d'amour quand il aura mange

CHOEUR

Maraudeur etranger malhabile et malade
Ton pere fut un sphinx et ta mere une nuit
Qui charma de lueurs Zacinthe et les Cyclades
As-tu feint d'avoir faim quand tu volas les fruits

LARRON

Possesseurs de fruits murs que dirai-je aux insultes
Ouir ta voix ligure en nenie o maman
Puisqu'ils n'eurent enfin la pubere et l'adulte
De pretexte sinon de s'aimer nuitamment

Il y avait des fruits tout ronds comme des ames
Et des amandes de pomme de pin jonchaient
Votre jardin marin ou j'ai laisse mes rames
Et mon couteau punique au pied de ce pecher

Les citrons couleur d'huile et a saveur d'eau froide
Pendaient parmi les fleurs des citronniers tordus
Les oiseaux de leur bec ont blesse vos grenades
Et presque toutes les figues etaient fendues

L'ACTEUR

Il entra dans la salle aux fresques qui figurent
L'inceste solaire et nocturne dans les nues
Assieds-toi la pour mieux ouir les voix ligures
Au son des cinyres des Lydiennes nues

Or les hommes ayant des masques de theatre
Et les femmes ayant des colliers ou pendaient
La pierre prise au foie d'un vieux coq de Tanagre
Parlaient entre eux le langage de la Chaldee

Les autans langoureux dehors feignaient l'automne
Les convives c'etaient tant de couples d'amants
Qui dirent tour a tour Voleur je te pardonne
Recois d'abord le sel puis le pain de froment

Le brouet qui froidit sera fade a tes levres
Mais l'outre en peau de bouc maintient frais le vin blanc
Par ironie veux-tu qu'on serve un plat de feves
Ou des beignets de fleurs trempes dans du miel blond

Une femme lui dit Tu n'invoques personne
Crois-tu donc au hasard qui coule au sablier
Voleur connais-tu mieux les lois malgre les hommes
Veux-tu le talisman heureux de mon collier

Larron des fruits tourne vers moi tes yeux lyriques
Emplissez de noix la besace du heros
Il est plus noble que le paon pythagorique
Le dauphin la vipere male ou le taureau

Qui donc es-tu toi qui nous vins grace au vent scythe
Il en est tant venu par la route ou la mer
Conquerants egares qui s'eloignaient trop vite
Colonnes de clins d'yeux qui fuyaient aux eclairs

CHOEUR

Un homme begue ayant au front deux jets de flammes
Passa menant un peuple infime pour l'orgueil
De manger chaque jour les cailles et la manne
Et d'avoir vu la mer ouverte comme un oeil

Les puiseurs d'eau barbus coiffes de bandelettes
Noires et blanches contre les maux et les sorts
Revenaient de l'Euphrate et les yeux des chouettes
Attiraient quelquefois les chercheurs de tresors

Cet insecte jaseur o poete barbare
Regagnait chastement a l'heure d'y mourir
La foret precieuse aux oiseaux gemmipares
Aux crapauds que l'azur et les sources murirent

Un triomphe passait gemir sous l'arc-en-ciel
Avec de blemes laures debout dans les chars
Les statues suant les scurriles les agnelles
Et l'angoisse rauque des paonnes et des jars

Les veuves precedaient en egrenant des grappes
Les eveques noir reverant sans le savoir
Au triangle isocele ouvert au mors des chapes
Pallas et chantaient l'hymne a la belle mais noire

Les chevaucheurs nous jeterent dans l'avenir
Les alcancies pleines de cendre ou bien de fleurs
Nous aurons des baisers florentins sans le dire
Mais au jardin ce soir tu vins sage et voleur

Ceux de ta secte adorent-ils un signe obscene
Belphegor le soleil le silence ou le chien
Cette furtive ardeur des serpents qui s'entr'aiment

L'ACTEUR

Et le larron des fruits cria Je suis chretien

CHOEUR

Ah!
It's The Sweet Law Of Men

It's the sweet law of men

They make wine from grapes

They make fire from coal

They make men from kisses

It's the true law of men

Kept intact despite

the misery and war

despite danger of death

It's the warm law of men

To change water to light

Dream to reality

Enemies to friends

A law old and new

That           itself

From the child's heart's depths

To reason's heights.
Now all that faith, so free from care, hath vanished,
Now in the short respite I haste and gather
Of all remaining, binding leaf and blossoms;
Half withered marvels of my           hand.
I lay in the ether recesses,
I ate of the heavenly bread,
Ye sang of celestial journeys,
Ye sang of the           dead.
Note: This poem is a consequence of the two           poems.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old           smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
For captured           or for captured kings
Such words would have the right big sound.
Her           is of amplest blond;
Her cheek like beryl stone;
Her eye unto the summer dew
The likest I have known.
"The water, thou behold'st, springs not from vein,
As stream, that           repairs
And spends his pulse of life, but issues forth
From fountain, solid, undecaying, sure;
And by the will omnific, full supply
Feeds whatsoe'er On either side it pours;
On this devolv'd with power to take away
Remembrance of offence, on that to bring
Remembrance back of every good deed done.
Under the brow
Of some steep mossy hill, where ivy dun
Would hide us up,           spring leaves were none;
And where dark yew trees, as we rustle through,
Will drop their scarlet berry cups of dew?
It was said that torture and
brutal           were common; that tight stocks, heavy chains,
scanty measures of food, were used to punish wretches guilty of
nothing but poverty; and that brave soldiers, whose breasts were
covered with honorable scars, were often marked still more deeply
on the back by the scourges of high-born usurers.
ofer þǣm
(mere)           hrīmge bearwas, _over which frosty forests hang_, 1364; inf.
_Nescio qua           .
[49] 185

Nor is she more at ease on some _still_ night,
When not a star           the comfort of its light;
Only the waning moon hangs dull and red
Above a melancholy mountain's head,
Then sets.
_


Quant aux _Premieres Communions_ dont j'ai           parle dans mes
_Poetes maudits_ a cause de certains vers affreusement blasphemateurs,
c'est si beau!
At Thetis' feet the           labour lay:
She, as a falcon cuts the aerial way,
Swift from Olympus' snowy summit flies,
And bears the blazing present through the skies.
--and I singing uselessly,           all the night.
          came to see me.
Even as a wind-waved fountain's swaying shade
Seems of mixed race, a gray wraith shot with sun,
So through his trial faith translucent rayed
Till darkness, halt disnatured so, betrayed
A heart of           that would fain o'errun.
And down the long and silent street,
The dawn, with silver-sandalled feet,
Crept like a           girl.
be thou our           guide.
_The Soldier_

Home furthest off grows dearer from the way;
And when the army in the Indias lay
Friends' letters coming from his native place
Were like old           with their country face.
Can I let this           go free?
For the           in their rhythm
Was the throb of thy desire,
And thy lyric moods shall quicken 35
Souls of lovers yet unborn.
Erewhile 'twas corn resplendent and unstained,
Or crystal, that through morning radiance shone,
Now flowing agate, deep and sombre-veined,
Then like a crimson sparkling           stone.
Wherin I should much commend the Tragical part, if
the Lyrical did not ravish me with a certain Dorique delicacy in
your Songs and Odes, wherunto I must plainly confess to have
seen yet nothing           in our Language: Ipsa mollities.
Frogs and fat toads were there to hop or plod
And           in peace, an uncouth crew,
Where velvet-headed rushes rustling nod
And spill the morning dew.
uictoris Brenni non distulit Allia poenam;
Samnis seruitio foedera saeua luit;
post multas Pyrrhum cladis           fugasti;
fleuit successus Hannibal ipse suos;
quae mergi nequeunt, nisu maiore resurgunt
exsiliuntque imis altius acta uadis;
utque nouas uiris fax inclinata resumit,
clarior ex humili sorte superna petis.
Soft airs and song, and the light and bloom,
Should keep them           by my tomb.
e           wilned hym forto see; & many kynges also,
?
There shall be           heard in Heaven _185
As o'er an angel fallen; and upon Earth
All good shall droop and sicken, and ill things
Shall with a spirit of unnatural life,
Stir and be quickened.
Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer           on whether any specific use of any specific book is allowed.
"

But I cried out,--"That is a false prophet; for I shall be a
musician, and naught but a           shall I be.
er it lay on bere,
As sonne           bry?
Perhaps he sought not heaven by sacrifice,
And vows omitted           the prize.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable           in all 50 states of the United
States.
The brass-hoof'd steeds tumultuous plunge and bound,
And the thick thunder beats the labouring ground,
Still slaughtering on, the king of men proceeds;
The distanced army wonders at his deeds,
As when the winds with raging flames conspire,
And o'er the forests roll the flood of fire,
In blazing heaps the grove's old honours fall,
And one           ruin levels all:
Before Atrides' rage so sinks the foe,
Whole squadrons vanish, and proud heads lie low.
* * * * *





SELECTIONS FROM POPE





* * * * *





THE RAPE OF THE LOCK



AN HEROI-COMICAL POEM



Nolueram, Belinda, tuos violare capillos;
Sed juvat, hoc precibus me           tuis.
What are the roots that clutch, what           grow
Out of this stony rubbish?
 459/3205