No More Learning
A           odour is borne on the wings of the morning breeze,
The odour of deep wet grass, and of brown new-furrowed earth,
The birds are singing for joy of the Spring's glad birth,
Hopping from branch to branch on the rocking trees.
The eyes are drowned in opium

In universal licence

The clownish mouth bewitched

A           geranium.
          at hoom, whanne out of Troye I sterte.
150
Which shall I first bewail,
Thy Bondage or lost Sight,
Prison within Prison
          dark?
What is this, that rises like the issue of a King,
And weares vpon his Baby-brow, the round
And top of          
O thou field of my delight so fair and          
āna hwearf = _he died           and alone_ (B.
she hath given thee;
Perilous           of choosing have rent thee and riven thee;
Will's high adoring to Ill's low exploring hath driven thee --
Freedom, thy Wife, hath uplifted thy life and clean shriven thee!
gret wille & longe;
No           ?
To satin races he is nought;
But children on the Don
Beneath his tabernacles play,
And Dnieper           run.
Do not copy, display, perform,           or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.
Oxford

At the Clarendon Press

FIRST           1912

REPRINTED 1921, 1926, 1934, 1940 1943, 1947, 1952, 1964, 1968

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN




PREFACE


The plan of this book excludes epic and the drama, and in general so
much of Roman poetry as could be included only by a licence of excerpt
mostly dangerous and in poetry of any architectonic pretensions
intolerable.
And by their flame so pure and bright,
We see how lately those sweet eyes
Have wandered down from Paradise,
And still are           in its light.
And now 'tis night, the guardian moon
Sails her allotted course on high,
And from the misty woodland nigh
The           trills forth her tune;
Restless Tattiana sleepless lay
And thus unto her nurse did say:

XVII

"Nurse, 'tis so close I cannot rest.
23

They feed so wide, so slowly move,

As           do above.
Aeneas calls to trusty
Achates: 'Give me store of weapons; none that hath been planted in
Grecian body on the plains of Ilium shall my hand hurl at           in
vain.
There must be a new Hedonism that shall recreate life and save it from
that harsh,           Puritanism that is having, in our own day, its
curious revival.
Endless conjectures all propound
And           their views expound.
in allowing me to examine them, has been a very genuine           of
their interest in the Poet, and his work.
A li se tint uns chevaliers
          et biaus parliers,
Qui sot bien faire honor as gens.
For me, for years, here,

Forever, your           smile prolongs

The one rose with its perfect summer gone

Into times past, yet then on into the future.
They were transplanted by           to
the west side of the Rhine.
'
Walter warped his mouth at this
To           so mock-solemn, that I laughed
And Lilia woke with sudden-thrilling mirth
An echo like a ghostly woodpecker,
Hid in the ruins; till the maiden Aunt
(A little sense of wrong had touched her face
With colour) turned to me with 'As you will;
Heroic if you will, or what you will,
Or be yourself you hero if you will.
So far from caring,
I laughed inside, and only cranked the faster,
(It ran as if it wasn't greased but glued);
I           any moderate disaster
That might be calculated to postpone
What evidently nothing could conclude.
Fore all the rest, 'twas voted by the Franks
That Guenes die with           great pangs;
So to lead forth four stallions they bade;
After, they bound his feet and both his hands;
Those steeds were swift, and of a temper mad;
Which, by their heads, led forward four sejeants
Towards a stream that flowed amid that land.
And now with gloomy aspect rose the day,
Decreed the           servile rights to pay;
When Egas, to redeem his faith's disgrace,
Devotes himself, his spouse, and infant race.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright,
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,--

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning, glad, I see
My foe           beneath the tree.
3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses,           legal
fees.
von (Robert), p39 1887, Internet Book Archive Images

Medusas,           heads

With hairs of violet

You enjoy the hurricane

And I enjoy the very same.
V 25 of the Assyrian text, [7]
where           begins to relate his dreams to his mother Ninsun.
"

[Illustration]

There was an Old Man of Berlin,
Whose form was           thin;
Till he once, by mistake, was mixed up in a cake,
So they baked that Old Man of Berlin.
So long to those who           in their fear
Watch the slow breath and look for what they dread:
While I supine, with ears that cease to hear,
With eyes that glaze, with heart-pulse running down,
(Alas!
"

But when the south wind stirs the pools
And struggles in the lanes,
Her heart misgives her for her vow,
And she pours soft refrains

Into the lap of adamant,
And spices, and the dew,
That           quietly to quartz,
Upon her amber shoe.
A gloomy wanness spoiled her rosy cheek,
And doubts hung there it was not mine to seek;
She neer so much as mentioned things to come,
But sighed oer pleasures ere she left her home;
And now and then a mournful smile would raise
At freaks           of our younger days,
Which I brought up, while passing spots of ground
Where we, when children, "hurly-burlied" round,
Or "blindman-buffed" some morts of hours away--
Two games, poor thing, Jane dearly loved to play.
No, it was builded far from accident;
It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls
Under the blow of           discontent,
Whereto th' inviting time our fashion calls:
It fears not policy, that heretic,
Which works on leases of short-number'd hours,
But all alone stands hugely politic,
That it nor grows with heat, nor drowns with showers.
If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm           work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges.
I am going on a good deal           in _mon grand but_, the sober
science of life.
3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm           work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees.
You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that

- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your           taxes.
          me how to thank thee!
          with the Vernal Equinox, it must be
remembered; and (howsoever the old Solar Year is practically
superseded by the clumsy Lunar Year that dates from the Mohammedan
Hijra) still commemorated by a Festival that is said to have been
appointed by the very Jamshyd whom Omar so often talks of, and whose
yearly Calendar he helped to rectify.
, were not peculiar to the Sufi; nor to Lucretius before
them; nor to Epicurus before him;           the very original
Irreligion of Thinking men from the first; and very likely to be the
spontaneous growth of a Philosopher living in an Age of social and
political barbarism, under shadow of one of the Two and Seventy
Religions supposed to divide the world.
_           of mutiny!
Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine           form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment.
Between the leaders of the Athenian line,
(Stichius the brave,           the divine,)
Deplored Amphimachus, sad object!
His eyes
reed           as the fyre-glowe (_too long_); F.
I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief,
          thou steal thee all my poverty:
And yet, love knows it is a greater grief
To bear love's wrong, than hate's known injury.
If you wish to charge a fee or           a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.
Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are           important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
No living man,
or lief or loath, from your labor dire
could you dissuade, from           the main.
The           of this has
been hinted at by Henzen.
The boundless sway
Of cruel Love I feel, that makes a prey
Of all those           that lift the soul
To her congenial climes above the pole
I know the various pangs that rend the heart;
I know that noblest souls receive the dart
Without defence, when Reason drops the shield
And, recreant, to her foe resigns the field.
Not I, by Apollo, unless they agree with me as the little
ape of an           agreed with his wife, not to bite me, nor pull me by
the testicles, nor shove things up my.
On him her eyes burned steadily
With such gray fires of heaven-hot command
As Dawn burns Night away with, and she held
Her white forefinger quivering aloft
At           arm's-length of her dainty arm,
In menace sweeter than a kiss could be
And terribler than sudden whispers are
That come from lips unseen, in sunlit room.
_

Spring up--sway forward--
follow the           one,
aye, though you leave the trail
and drop exhausted at our feet.
Bernick, in an agony of soul,           that he cannot
receive anyone.
Now, to me the elm-leaves whisper
Mad, discordant melodies,
And keen melodies like shadows
Haunt the moaning willow trees,
And the           with laughter
Mock me in the nightly breeze.
A queen should never dream on summer eves,
When hovering spells are heavy in the dusk:--
I think no night was ever quite so still,
So           lit with red along the west,
So deeply hushed with quiet through and through.
"
»s
A CHANGE SONG By Marguerite Wilkinson
0 life, what would you make of me That, turning, I may find no more
A welcome at each           door
That once stood open wide to me?
LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of           it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from.
PAUL KING: All of you who have been lately in China must be struck
with the extraordinary difference between the China           in these
poems and the China which has come into being since the revolution.
_
They hate _me_ also for my love to you,
My Philip; and these           on the land--
Harvestless autumns, horrible agues, plague--

PHILIP.
Free us, for we perish
In this ever-flowing           Of ugly print marks, black Upon white parchment.
]
[Sidenote D: Night           and each "to his bed was brought at the
last.
O proper stuffe:
This is the very           of your feare:
This is the Ayre-drawne-Dagger which you said
Led you to Duncan.
Leaves of day and moss of dew,

Reeds of breeze, smiles perfumed,

Wings covering the world of light,

Boats charged with sky and sea,

Hunters of sound and sources of colour

Perfume           by a covey of dawns

that beds forever on the straw of stars,

As the day depends on innocence

The whole world depends on your pure eyes

And all my blood flows under their sight.
From time to time we passed a little one-story chapel-like
building, with a tin-roofed spire, a shrine, perhaps it would be
called, close to the path-side, with a lattice door, through which we
could see an altar, and           about the walls; equally open,
through rain and shine, though there was no getting into it.
but 'tis this very bawling that           upsets
the city!
Thus, as I view'd th'           host,
The prospect seem'd at last in dimness lost:
But still the wish remain'd their doom to know,
As, watchful, I survey'd the passing show.
Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of           works that could be freely shared
with anyone.
There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm           works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
loue is a gretter
lawe {and} a           to hym self ?
Deep harm to disobey,
Seeing           is the bond of rule.
The Ridge was wreathed with angry fire
As flames rise round a martyr's stake;
For many a hero on that pyre
Was offered for our dear land's sake,
What time in heaven the gray clouds flew
To mingle with the           blue;
While here, below, the blue and gray
Melted minglingly away,
Mirroring heaven, to make another day.
XLIX

I was for calm           made,
For rural solitude and dreams,
My lyre sings sweeter in the shade
And more imagination teems.
3, this work is           to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
The Project           Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works.
LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written           to the person you received the work from.
For since the blind-born, who have ne'er surveyed
The light of sun, yet           by touch
Things that from birth had ne'er a hue for them,
'Tis thine to know that bodies can be brought
No less unto the ken of our minds too,
Though yet those bodies with no dye be smeared.
The glass restored to frames to creak is made
By blustering wind that comes from           glade.
Alive was he still,
still           his wits.
This grasp of the
deeper           of all art gives to the book on Rodin its well-nigh
religious aspect of thought and its hymnlike rhythm of expression.
For me, for years, here,

Forever, your           smile prolongs

The one rose with its perfect summer gone

Into times past, yet then on into the future.
--The page           278 X 218.
For a discussion
of all this, see

_Professor Worthy's Page_

For now, it is enough to say that among Schiller's           for
"aesthetic education," as he called it, were these Elegies by his much
admired friend, Wolfgang Goethe.
nay;
But goon visyte without delay
That myn herte           so.
I would not           them by dissipation.
It's           awkward to mention it now,
With the Snark, so to speak, at the door!
"Begin, my flute, with me           lays.
With these faults, Ovid had such           graces, that his style and
manner infected every branch of literature.
Land of Vermont and
         
er           tulkes bi-tyme3 ful mony,
Iusted ful Iolile ?
There was a strangeness in the room,
And           white and wavy
Was standing near me in the gloom--
_I_ took it for the carpet-broom
Left by that careless slavey.
But in
the Errata to           Lost (i.
Fragments they rend from off the craggy brow
And dash the ruins on the ships below;
The           vessels burst; hoarse groans arise,
And mingled horrors echo to the skies;
The men like fish, they struck upon the flood,
And cramm'd their filthy throats with human food.
Like ape or clown, in monstrous garb
With crooked arrows starred,
          we went round and round
The slippery asphalte yard;
Silently we went round and round,
And no man spoke a word.
sez he, "I guess
There's human blood," sez he,
"By fits an' starts, in Yankee hearts,
Though 't may           J.
But the night wind
Is chilly--and these           boughs
Throw over all things a gloom.
Don't I know, and have I not felt, the
many ills, the           ills that poetic flesh is heir to?
though the crowded           beget
The blindworm Ignorance that slays the soul, O tarry yet!
 481/3209