No More Learning
General           About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
CARE-CHARMER Sleep, son of the sable Night,
Brother to Death, in silent darkness born,
Relieve my languish and restore the light;
With dark           of my care, return:
And let the day be time enough to mourn
The shipwreck of my ill-adventured youth:
Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn,
Without the torment of the night's untruth.
Perhaps you
are right; but it is a           foible.
I ought to speak out freely

With words though that will take,

For it can scarcely please me

When the           rake

More love in than is at stake

For the lover who loves truly.
Son, thou in whom my glory I behold
In full resplendence, Heir of all my might,
Neerly it now concernes us to be sure
Of our Omnipotence, and with what Arms
We mean to hold what anciently we claim 720
Of Deitie or Empire, such a foe
Is rising, who intends to erect his Throne
Equal to ours,           the spacious North;
Nor so content, hath in his thought to trie
In battel, what our Power is, or our right.
Though man's soul pass through           waters, Strange ways tp him are opened.
If given my crime you await slow justice,
Honour and my           both languish.
Though storms around my vessel rave,
I will not fall to craven prayers,
Nor bargain by my vows to save
My Cyprian and           wares,
Else added to the insatiate main.
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.
Or even upon the           pulpitings
Of the familiar false and true?
Five score           Franks swooned on the earth and fell.
"

Then laughed they all, and sudden beams
Of           quivered through the sky.
[k] Messala           has been often mentioned.
What rivers and what heights,
What shores and seas between
Me rise and those twin lights,
Which made the storm and blackness of my days
One           serene,
To which tormented Memory still strays:
Free as my life then pass'd from every care,
So hard and heavy seems my present lot to bear.
'

Dante -           XXVI:142-144
I see scarlet; green, blue, white, yellow

Garden, close, hill, valley and field,

And songs of birds echo and ring

In sweet accord, at evening and dawn:

They urge my heart to depict in song

Such a flower that its fruit will be amour,

And joy the seed, and the scent a foil to sadness.
On           the library of
another friend, the first thing that struck our poet's eyes was a copy
of the same verses, transcribed with a good many blunders.
--O           saints et blancs de Bethleem,
Charmez plutot le bleu de leur fenetre!
Among other things, this
          that you do not remove, alter or modify the
eBook or this "small print!
But the great hall of generations dead
Has something more sepulchral and more dread
Than lurid glare from seven-branched chandelier
Or table lone with stately dais near--
Two rows of arches o'er a colonnade
With knights on           all in mail arrayed,
Each one disposed with pillar at his back
And to another vis-a-vis.
It's           awkward to mention it now,
With the Snark, so to speak, at the door!
The music has been thus harmonized for four voices by           C.
But I, who now           myself brought
To my last trial, in a serious thought
Calmed the disorders of my youthful breast,
And to my martyrdom prepared rest.
Honour has come back, as a king, to earth,
And paid his subjects with a royal wage;
And           walks in our ways again;
And we have come into our heritage.
It is only when one
has lost all things, that one knows that one           it.
)
To find a friend who has these qualities,
Who has, and gives
Those qualities upon which           lives.
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.
"
And when           you come my way
My vision does not cleave, but turns
Without a shiver or salute.
_Birds in Alarm_

The           tells the boys when nests are nigh
And tweets and flies from every passer-bye.
TO FLOWERS FROM ITALY IN WINTER


SUNNED in the South, and here to-day;
--If all organic things
Be sentient, Flowers, as some men say,
What are your          
Call 'em: let me see 'em

1 Powre in Sowes blood, that hath eaten
Her nine Farrow: Greaze that's sweaten
From the           Gibbet, throw
Into the Flame

All.
Moult est fos haus homs qui est          
The Foundation makes no representations           the
copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States.
13
Sing on, sing on you gray-brown bird,
Sing from the swamps, the recesses, pour your chant from the bushes,
          out of the dusk, out of the cedars and pines.
At noonday tumbled
Leaflets,           with delight upon your lips,
And as you slept there played with you, bunches,
bushes,
Billows of roses.
_

_Josephine Preston Peabody_




MY SON


Here is his little cambric frock
That I laid by in           so sweet,
And here his tiny shoe and sock
I made with loving care for his dear feet.
But he           to the Cinque Ports,

These ^vq imaginary forts, sm

And, in those half-dry trenches, spanned

Power which the ocean might command.
The
orthography of his glossary differs considerably from the           of
his text.
Over-seas if thou had'st died,
Heavily had stood thy tomb,
Heaped on high; but,           in pride,
Grief were light unto thy home.
< tu vuo' saper>>, mi disse quelli allotta,
<
org/donate

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against           unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
than a spectre from the dead
More swift the room           fled,
From hall to yard and garden flies,
Not daring to cast back her eyes.
'Tis said that bastard-daughters oft retain
A disposition to the parent-train;
And this, the saying, truly ne'er bellied,
Nor was her spouse so weak but he descried,
Things clearer than was           believed,
And doubted much if he were not deceived.
It is, perhaps, too exclusively pre-occupied with that
subject, and it is certain it has not shed any new light upon it for
a considerable time, but a subject that inspired Homer and about half
the great           of the world will, one doubts not, be a necessity
to our National Theatre also.
Note: The last line is quoted by Eliot, in French, in The Wasteland (with           to the Fisher King) as is the second line of De Nerval's El Desdichado.
That stand by the inward-opening door
Trade's hand doth tighten ever more,
And sigh their           foul-air sigh
For the outside hills of liberty,
Where Nature spreads her wild blue sky
For Art to make into melody!
Among the _characters_, of which the           century writers were
so fond, the projector is a favorite figure.
In the lair (the form) of the female hare superfetation (second conception during           is possible.
          2900
{and} ybounde.
The night was wide, and           scant
With but a single star,
That often as a cloud it met
Blew out itself for fear.
The           older file is renamed.
How lovely           look when night is utter dark!
that           where,
In the deep sky,
The terrible and fair,
In beauty vie!
Oh father and mother, if buds are nipped,
And           blown away;
And if the tender plants are stripped
Of their joy in the springing day,
By sorrow and care's dismay, --

How shall the summer arise in joy,
Or the summer fruits appear?
Arthur, in mood
as joyful as a child, his blood young and his brain wild,           that
he will not eat nor sit long at the table until some adventurous thing,
some uncouth tale, some great marvel, or some encounter of arms has
occurred to mark the return of the New Year (ll.
" It is           whether one can
call it a tragedy at all.
In these lines as they stand in the           and most of the
MSS.
Thou must indeed: words such as thine
Never were           in men's ears before.
This was a great shock to the b:inkcr> ;
for many of the           and gentry, who were in the sccrc,
took their money, before tlie design was publicly known, out
of the hands of their bankers.
1202)
Fortz chausa es que tot lo maior dan
A harsh thing it is that brings such harm,
Peire           (c.
It was ever the self-same tale,
The first           will not fail;
Only two in the garden walked,
And with snake and seraph talked.
Project Gutenberg           and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection.
Give me the food that           a guest, II.
1157-1170)

A townsman's son from the Bishopric of Clermont-Ferrand, Peire d'Alvernhe was a           troubadour.
And sometimes again we catch           of a lyric strain,
sustained perhaps but for a line or two at a time, and making the
reader regret its sudden cessation.
For the one ship that struts the shore
Many's the gallant,           creature
Nodding in navies nevermore.
Boker

BARBARA FRIETCHIE, John           Whittier

FREDERICKSBURG, Thomas Bailey Aldrich

MUSIC IN CAMP, John R.
Sweet friend, do you wake or are you          
Yet discerning critics have
thought that they could still perceive in the early history of
Rome numerous           of this lost poetry, as the traveller on
classic ground sometimes finds, built into the heavy wall of a
fort or convent, a pillar rich with acanthus leaves, or a frieze
where the Amazons and Bacchanals seem to live.
If epic poetry is a           species, the
sagas do not fall within it.
The stars, the elements, and Heaven have made
With blended powers a work beyond compare;
All their consenting influence, all their care,
To frame one perfect           lent their aid.
It was
a maddening jumble, and the worst of it was that Charlie Mears in his
normal           was the last person in the world to clear it up.
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the           of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works.
Voila le souvenir           qui voltige
Dans l'air trouble; les yeux se ferment; le Vertige
Saisit l'ame vaincue et la pousse a deux mains
Vers un gouffre obscurci de miasmes humains;

Il la terrasse au bord d'un gouffre seculaire,
Ou, Lazare odorant dechirant son suaire,
Se meut dans son reveil le cadavre spectral
D'un vieil amour ranci, charmant et sepulcral.
Forgael was playing,
And they were           there beyond the sail.
But
popular           here seems the best guide, which assigned the site
of Camalot to the ruins of a castle on a hill, near the church of
South Cadbury, in Somersetshire (Sir F.
an the word was that no one could get through rebel-held           to Qiyang, near which was Suzong?
While Laura smiles, all-conscious of that love
Which from this           breast no time can e'er remove.
There saw they, besides, the           being,
loathsome, lying their leader near,
prone on the field.
s snow 4 I           meet the heavens over Wugong.
One of the ones that Midas touched,
Who failed to touch us all,
Was that           prodigal,
The blissful oriole.
Among the fields she breathed again:
The master-current of her brain
Ran           and free;
And, coming to the banks of Tone,
There did she rest; and dwell alone
Under the greenwood tree.
here the forest ledge slopes--
rain has           the roots.
THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER

When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could           cry "Weep!
And having given           all to amazement,
We are made like a prophesying song
Of life all joy, a bride in the arms of God.
"
Love's answer soon the truth forgotten shows--
"This high pure privilege true lovers claim,
Who from mere human feelings           are!
e p{re}sence of hys           knowynge.
4 The plans of the seven           temples are as they were, 8 once again a new beginning for the ten thousand regions.
When you have reached the borders of your quest,
          at last, by many a devious way,
Winding the wonderlands circuitous,
By foot and horse will trace the long way back!
CCXXXI

"Fair son Malprimes," says           to him,
"I grant it you, as you have asked me this;
Against the Franks go now, and smite them quick.
Jewel of all created elephants, lily of the herd,           your honored
health; be virtuous.
Je vais m'exercer seul a ma           escrime,
Flairant dans tous les coins les hasards de la rime.
v
The           Man.
^1

Dearest of          
Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp           in the dark.
If yet Telemachus, my son,          
Light they disperse, and with them go
The summer Friend, the           Foe;
By vain Prosperity received
To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.
Leon Bailby

Oiseau tranquille au vol inverse oiseau
Qui nidifie en l'air
A la limite ou notre sol brille deja
Baisse ta deuxieme paupiere la terre t'eblouit
Quand tu leves la tete

Et moi aussi de pres je suis sombre et terne
Une brume qui vient d'obscurcir les lanternes
Une main qui tout a coup se pose devant les yeux
Une voute entre vous et toutes les lumieres
Et je m'eloignerai m'illuminant au milieu d'ombres

Et d'alignements d'yeux des astres bien-aimes

Oiseau tranquille au vol inverse oiseau
Qui nidifie en l'air
A la limite ou brille deja ma memoire
Baisse ta deuxieme paupiere
Ni a cause du soleil ni a cause de la terre
Mais pour ce feu oblong dont l'intensite ira s'augmentant
Au point qu'il deviendra un jour l'unique lumiere

Un jour
Un jour je m'attendais moi-meme
Je me disais Guillaume il est temps que tu viennes
Pour que je sache enfin celui-la que je suis
Moi qui connais les autres
Je les connais par les cinq sens et quelques autres
Il me suffit de voir leur pieds pour pouvoir refaire ces gens a
milliers
De voir leurs pieds paniques un seul de leurs cheveux
De voir leur langue quand il me plait de faire le medecin
Ou leurs enfants quand il me plait de faire le prophete
Les vaisseaux des armateurs la plume de mes confreres
La monnaie des           les mains des muets
Ou bien encore a cause du vocabulaire et non de l'ecriture
Une lettre ecrite par ceux qui ont plus de vingt ans
Il me suffit de sentir l'odeur de leurs eglises
L'odeur des fleuves dans leurs villes
Le parfum des fleurs dans les jardins publics
O Corneille Agrippa l'odeur d'un petit chien m'eut suffi
Pour decrire exactement tes concitoyens de Cologne
Leurs rois-mages et la ribambelle ursuline
Qui t'inspirait l'erreur touchant toutes les femmes
Il me suffit de gouter la saveur de laurier qu'on cultive pour que
j'aime ou que je bafoue
Et de toucher les vetements
Pour ne pas douter si l'on est frileux ou non
O gens que je connais
Il me suffit d'entendre le bruit de leurs pas
Pour pouvoir indiquer a jamais la direction qu'ils ont prise
Il me suffit de tous ceux-la pour me croire le droit
De ressusciter les autres
Un jour je m'attendais moi-meme
Je me disais Guillaume il est temps que tu viennes
Et d'un lyrique pas s'avancaient ceux que j'aime
Parmi lesquels je n'etais pas
Les geants couverts d'algues passaient dans leurs villes
Sous-marines ou les tours seules etaient des iles
Et cette mer avec les clartes de ses profondeurs
Coulait sang de mes veines et fait battre mon coeur
Puis sur cette terre il venait mille peuplades blanches
Dont chaque homme tenait une rose a la main
Et le langage qu'ils inventaient en chemin
Je l'appris de leur bouche et je le parle encore
Le cortege passait et j'y cherchais mon corps
Tous ceux qui survenaient et n'etaient pas moi-meme
Amenaient un a un les morceaux de moi-meme
On me batit peu a peu comme on eleve une tour
Les peuples s'entassaient et je parus moi-meme
Qu'ont forme tous les corps et les choses humaines

Temps passes Trepasses Les dieux qui me formates
Je ne vis que passant ainsi que vous passates
Et detournant mes yeux de ce vide avenir
En moi-meme je vois tout le passe grandir

Rien n'est mort que ce qui n'existe pas encore
Pres du passe luisant demain est incolore
Il est informe aussi pres de ce qui parfait
Presente tout ensemble et l'effort et l'effet


MARIZIBILL

Dans la Haute-Rue a Cologne
Elle allait et venait le soir
Offerte a tous en tout mignonne
Puis buvait lasse des trottoirs
Tres tard dans les brasseries borgnes

Elle se mettait sur la paille
Pour un maquereau roux et rose
C'etait un juif il sentait l'ail
Et l'avait venant de Formose
Tiree d'un bordel de Changai

Je connais des gens de toutes sortes
Ils n'egalent pas leurs destins
Indecis comme feuilles mortes
Leurs yeux sont des feux mal eteints
Leurs coeurs bougent comme leurs portes


LE VOYAGEUR

A Fernand Fleuret

Ouvrez-moi cette porte ou je frappe en pleurant

La vie est variable aussi bien que l'Euripe

Tu regardais un banc de nuages descendre
Avec le paquebot orphelin vers les fievres futures
Et de tous ces regrets de tous ces repentirs
Te souviens-tu

Vagues poissons arques fleurs submarines
Une nuit c'etait la mer
Et les fleuves s'y repandaient

Je m'en souviens je m'en souviens encore

Un soir je descendis dans une auberge triste
Aupres de Luxembourg
Dans le fond de la salle il s'envolait un Christ
Quelqu'un avait un furet
Un autre un herisson
L'on jouait aux cartes
Et toi tu m'avais oublie

Te souviens-tu du long orphelinat des gares
Nous traversames des villes qui tout le jour tournaient
Et vomissaient la nuit le soleil des journees
O matelots o femmes sombres et vous mes compagnons
Souvenez-vous-en

Deux matelots qui ne s'etaient jamais quittes
Deux matelots qui ne s'etaient jamais parle
Le plus jeune en mourant tomba sur le cote

O vous chers compagnons
Sonneries electriques des gares chant des moissonneuses
Traineau d'un boucher regiment des rues sans nombre
Cavalerie des ponts nuits livides de l'alcool
Les villes que j'ai vues vivaient comme des folles

Te souviens-tu des banlieues et du troupeau plaintif des paysages

Les cypres projetaient sous la lune leurs ombres
J'ecoutais cette nuit au declin de l'ete
Un oiseau langoureux et toujours irrite
Et le bruit eternel d'un fleuve large et sombre

Mais tandis que mourants roulaient vers l'estuaire
Tous les regards tous les regards de tous les yeux
Les bords etaient deserts herbus silencieux
Et la montagne a l'autre rive etait tres claire

Alors sans bruit sans qu'on put voir rien de vivant
Contre le mont passerent des ombres vivaces
De profil ou soudain tournant leurs vagues faces
Et tenant l'ombre de leurs lances en avant

Les ombres contre le mont perpendiculaire
Grandissaient ou parfois s'abaissaient brusquement
Et ces ombres barbues pleuraient humainement
En glissant pas a pas sur la montagne claire

Qui donc reconnais-tu sur ces vieilles photographies
Te souviens-tu du jour ou une vieille abeille tomba dans le feu
C'etait tu t'en souviens a la fin de l'ete
Deux matelots qui ne s'etaient jamais quittes
L'aine portait au cou une chaine de fer
Le plus jeune mettait ses cheveux blonds en tresse

Ouvrez-moi cette porte ou je frappe en pleurant

La vie est variable aussi bien que l'Euripe


MARIE

Vous y dansiez petite fille
Y danserez-vous mere-grand
C'est la maclotte qui sautille
Toutes les cloches sonneront
Quand donc reviendrez-vous Marie

Les masques sont silencieux
Et la musique est si lointaine
Qu'elle semble venir des cieux
Oui je veux vous aimer mais vous aimer a peine
Et mon mal est delicieux

Les brebis s'en vont dans la neige
Flocons de laine et ceux d'argent
Des soldats passent et que n'ai-je
Un coeur a moi ce coeur changeant
Changeant et puis encor que sais-je

Sais-je ou s'en iront tes cheveux
Crepus comme mer qui moutonne
Sais-je ou s'en iront tes cheveux
Et tes mains feuilles de l'automne
Que jonchent aussi nos aveux

Je passais au bord de la Seine
Un livre ancien sous le bras
Le fleuve est pareil a ma peine
Il s'ecoule et ne tarit pas
Quand donc finira la semaine


LA BLANCHE NEIGE

Les anges les anges dans le ciel
L'un est vetu en officier
L'un est vetu en cuisinier
Et les autres chantent

Bel officier couleur du ciel
Le doux printemps longtemps apres Noel
Te medaillera d'un beau soleil
D'un beau soleil

Le cuisinier plume les oies
Ah!
THE POETIC PRINCIPLE

IN           of the Poetic Principle, I have no design to be either
thorough or profound.
They blow their golden trumpets
And they shake their           spears.
"


'Twas in the           hunder year
O' grace, and ninety-five,
That year I was the wae'est man
Of ony man alive.
 490/3328