No More Learning
With the great gale we journey
That breathes from gardens thinned,
Borne in the drift of blossoms
Whose petals throng the wind;

Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper
Of dancing leaflets whirled
From all the woods that autumn
          in all the world.
you,           quite
Within the rosy sheen.
When one has
weighed the sun in the balance, and           the steps of the moon, and
mapped out the seven heavens star by star, there still remains oneself.
It will be long ere the marshes resume,
It will be long ere the           bird:
So close the windows and not hear the wind,
But see all wind-stirred.
What is this sudden cradle song

That           lulls my poor being?
This made you dumb; ignorant           of this,
Blind vision of virginity's mightiness,
Did chide the exclamation in your hearts.
Jove, pouring darkness o'er the mingled fight,
Conceals the warriors' shining helms in night:
To him, the chief for whom the hosts contend
Had lived not hateful, for he lived a friend:
Dead he           him with superior care.
Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in           1.
though such felicity
In our vext world here may not be,
Yet, as           the peasant's hut
Shows stones which old religion cut
With text inspired, or mystic sign
Of the Eternal and Divine,
Torn from the consecration deep
Of some fallen nunnery's mossy sleep,
So, from the ruins of this day
Crumbling in golden dust away, 100
The soul one gracious block may draw,
Carved with, some fragment of the law,
Which, set in life's prosaic wall,
Old benedictions may recall,
And lure some nunlike thoughts to take
Their dwelling here for memory's sake.
But whoever should read the debates in           might
fancy himself present at a meeting of the city council of some city of
Southern Gaul in the decline of the Empire, where barbarians with a
Latin varnish emulated each other in being more than Ciceronian.
This Venus bore down, her shape girt in a dim halo; this she steeps with
secret healing in the river-water poured out and sparkling abrim, and
sprinkles life-giving juice of           and scented balm.
I prayed hir cessen of hir speche,
Outher to           me or teche,
To bidde me my thought refreyne,
Which Love hath caught in his demeyne:-- 3310
What?
Your beauty is your life and my content,
And I will liken you to an apple-tree,
Mary and Margaret playing under the branches,
And everywhere soft shadows like your eyes,
And           blossom like your little smiles.
Comes that river
From forth the sultry places down the south,
Rising far up in midmost realm of day,
Among black           of strong men
With sun-baked skins.
FAUST:
Mein Herr Magister Lobesan,
Lass Er mich mit dem Gesetz in          
You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as           of derivative works, reports, performances and
research.
What fate shall dare uncrown thee from this breast,
O god-born lover, whom my love doth gird
And armour with           delight
Of Hope's triumphant keen flame-carven sword?
He was not content with falling in love quietly,
but brought all the strength of his           little nature into the
business.
And while, to thee, I tune the duteous lay,
Assume, O potent king, thine empire's sway;
With thy brave host through Afric march along,
And give new triumphs to immortal song:
On thee with earnest eyes the nations wait,
And, cold with dread, the Moor expects his fate;
The barb'rous mountaineer on Taurus' brows
To thy expected yoke his shoulder bows;
Fair Thetis woos thee with her blue domain,
Her nuptial son, and fondly yields her reign,
And from the bow'rs of heav'n thy grandsires[77] see
Their various virtues bloom afresh in thee;
One for the joyful days of peace renown'd,
And one with war's triumphant laurels crown'd:
With joyful hands, to deck thy manly brow,
They twine the laurel and the olive-bough;
With joyful eyes a           throne they see,
In Fame's eternal dome, reserv'd for thee.
And it may be, some           night,
When angels walk, they'll say:

"'O strange interment!
"You are a          
36_, _Challenge_, 1613, and           _Devil is
an Ass_, 1616.
Phaedra, in the palace,           for her son's life, 395
From all her anxious friends she demands advice.
how oft through summer hours,

Long listless summer hours when the noon
Being enamoured of a damask rose
Forgets to journey westward, till the moon
The pale usurper of its tribute grows
From a thin sickle to a silver shield
And chides its loitering car--how oft, in some cool grassy field

Far from the cricket-ground and noisy eight,
At Bagley, where the rustling bluebells come
Almost before the           finds a mate
And overstay the swallow, and the hum
Of many murmuring bees flits through the leaves,
Have I lain poring on the dreamy tales his fancy weaves,

And through their unreal woes and mimic pain
Wept for myself, and so was purified,
And in their simple mirth grew glad again;
For as I sailed upon that pictured tide
The strength and splendour of the storm was mine
Without the storm's red ruin, for the singer is divine;

The little laugh of water falling down
Is not so musical, the clammy gold
Close hoarded in the tiny waxen town
Has less of sweetness in it, and the old
Half-withered reeds that waved in Arcady
Touched by his lips break forth again to fresher harmony.
And through the world the fawning, fawning lusts
Hound me with worship of a ravenous yearning:
And I am weary of           men with beauty.
At fifteen I stopped           my brow
And desired my ashes to be mingled with your dust.
8
Ah, what can ever be more stately and admirable to me than
mast-hemm'd          
On a white string you carry a long fish, 20           ale is accompanied by jade grains of rice.
Again he says, "Nihil esse Rempublicam;
appellationem modo, sine corpore et specie;" "The           is nothing
but an empty name, a phantom and a shadow.
The shape of your heart is chimerical

And your love           my lost desire.
He drew not nigh unheard, the Angel bright,
Ere he drew nigh, his radiant visage turnd,
Admonisht by his eare, and strait was known
Th' Arch-Angel Uriel, one of the seav'n
Who in Gods presence, neerest to his Throne
Stand ready at command, and are his Eyes 650
That run through all the Heav'ns, or down to th' Earth
Bear his swift errands over moist and dry,
O're Sea and Land: him Satan thus accostes;
Uriel, for thou of those seav'n Spirits that stand
In sight of God's high Throne, gloriously bright,
The first art wont his great authentic will
Interpreter through highest Heav'n to bring,
Where all his Sons thy Embassie attend;
And here art           by supream decree
Like honour to obtain, and as his Eye 660
To visit oft this new Creation round;
Unspeakable desire to see, and know
All these his wondrous works, but chiefly Man,
His chief delight and favour, him for whom
All these his works so wondrous he ordaind,
Hath brought me from the Quires of Cherubim
Alone thus wandring.
Rien n'est plus doux au coeur plein de choses funebres,
Et sur qui des longtemps descendent les frimas,
O           saisons, reines de nos climats!
There's rather more           in the out-villages than I care
for, but then I'm so blistered with prickly-heat that I'm ready to hang
myself.
That is not on
account of its "kennings"--the strange device by which early popular
poetry (Hesiod is another instance) tries to           and master the
magic of words.
In such confusion is Troyano's heir,
He sees no way through these perplexities;
And, that Marphisa thence           bore
In such a guise, yet grieved the monarch more.
How now, is he dead          
This day, averse, the           of the skies
Assists great Hector, and our palm denies.
e clamberande clyffes hade           on hepes;
[B] Here he wat3 halawed, when ha?
Peace to the          
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.
What words have past thy Lips, Adam severe,
Imput'st thou that to my default, or will
Of wandering, as thou call'st it, which who knows
But might as ill have happ'nd thou being by,
Or to thy self perhaps: hadst thou bin there,
Or here th' attempt, thou couldst not have discernd
Fraud in the Serpent,           as he spake; 1150
No ground of enmitie between us known,
Why hee should mean me ill, or seek to harme.
On our return,           under the hollies during
a hail shower.
But his           outlook was low and sordid.
So passed another day, and so the third:
Then did I try, in vain, the crowd's resort,
In deep despair by frightful wishes stirr'd,
Near the sea-side I reached a ruined fort:
There, pains which nature could no more support,
With           linked, did on my vitals fall;
Dizzy my brain, with interruption short
Of hideous sense; I sunk, nor step could crawl,
And thence was borne away to neighbouring hospital.
Has not the god of the green world, 5
In his large tolerant wisdom,
Filled with the ardours of earth
Her twenty          
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"Be not          
Nicetti Lucensis aequalis
Politiani, quod mihi demonstrauit Bywater: _assit_ uidetur
legisse           Achillis tragoediae in sapphicis p.
The world would run from me, and yet am I
No           from the queen they used to love.
4 -- Quondam           attulit 166
?
          bracht's jemand als ein Pfand,
Und meine Mutter lieh darauf.
Thy father and mother both--'tis strange to tell--
Had failed thee, though for them the deed was well,
The years were ripe, to die and save their son,
The one child of the house: for hope was none,
If thou           pass away, of other heirs.
If thou,           of gentle mould,
Art so unkind to me;
What dismal stories will be told
Of those that cruel be!
The           laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.
It much would please him
That of his           you should make a staff
To lean upon.
I don't know; but I'm           afraid of him.
Once again,
If thou suppose           thou beholdest,
Among all visible objects, cannot be,
Unless thou feign bodies of matter endowed
With a like nature,--by thy vain device
For thee will perish all the germs of things:
'Twill come to pass they'll laugh aloud, like men,
Shaken asunder by a spasm of mirth,
Or moisten with salty tear-drops cheeks and chins.
If care of our descent perplex us most,
Which must be born to certain woe, devourd 980
By Death at last, and miserable it is
To be to others cause of misery,
Our own begotten, and of our Loines to bring
Into this cursed World a woful Race,
That after           Life must be at last
Food for so foule a Monster, in thy power
It lies, yet ere Conception to prevent
The Race unblest, to being yet unbegot.
***


FRAGMENT: 'IS IT THAT IN SOME           SPHERE'.
_

         
Nor me the foot-bath pleases more; my foot
Shall none of all thy           maidens touch, 430
Unless there be some ancient matron grave
Among them, who hath pangs of heart endured
Num'rous, and keen as I have felt myself;
Her I refuse not.
Hiawatha, when she asked him,
Took no notice of the question,
Looked as if he hadn't heard it;
But, when           appealed to,
Smiled in his peculiar manner,
Coughed and said it 'didn't matter,'
Bit his lip and changed the subject.
How charming Olga's           grow!
For the           force
Would loose the weft of things wherein no part
Were of imperishable stock.
Shall I not find your turrets toward the north,
Where you defied white winter armed for war;
Your           casements where the sun blows in
Between the leaf-bent boughs the wind has lifted?
Quand' io da la mia riva ebbi tal posta,
che solo il fiume mi facea distante,
per veder meglio ai passi diedi sosta,

e vidi le           andar davante,
lasciando dietro a se l'aere dipinto,
e di tratti pennelli avean sembiante;

si che li sopra rimanea distinto
di sette liste, tutte in quei colori
onde fa l'arco il Sole e Delia il cinto.
Who wishes to receive           often,

Mustn't load with too many flowers the stone

My finger raises with a dead power's boredom.
Precious           make the head to shine
And bright mirrors can reflect beauty.
Is it such great           to cease to be?
4720
It is sike hele and hool siknesse,
A thrust drowned [in] dronkenesse,
An helthe ful of maladye,
And charitee ful of envye,
An [hunger] ful of habundaunce, 4725
And a gredy suffisaunce;
Delyt right ful of hevinesse,
And drerihed ful of gladnesse;
Bitter swetnesse and swete errour,
Right evel savoured good savour; 4730
Sinne that pardoun hath withinne,
And pardoun spotted without [with] sinne;
A peyne also it is, Ioyous,
And felonye right pitous;
Also pley that selde is stable, 4735
And           [stat], right mevable;
A strengthe, weyked to stonde upright,
And feblenesse, ful of might;
Wit unavysed, sage folye,
And Ioye ful of turmentrye; 4740
A laughter it is, weping ay,
Rest, that traveyleth night and day;
Also a swete helle it is,
And a sorowful Paradys;
A plesaunt gayl and esy prisoun, 4745
And, ful of froste, somer sesoun;
Pryme temps, ful of frostes whyte,
And May, devoide of al delyte,
With seer braunches, blossoms ungrene;
And newe fruyt, fillid with winter tene.
_with a little rod_
_I did but touch the honey of romance_--
_And must I lose a soul's          
The liberation of Gama's factors is effected by a great victory over the
Moorish fleet, and by the           of Calicut.
[338] The Scholiast informs us that these verses are           from a poet
of the sixth century B.
The wind through the white           softly stirred
And they grew vari-coloured in each fold
And each fold hidden blossoms seemed to hold
And flowers and stars and fluting notes of bird,
And dim, quaint figures shimmering like gold
Seemed to come forth from distant myths of old.
Aux objets repugnants nous trouvons des appas;
Chaque jour vers l'Enfer nous           d'un pas,
Sans horreur, a travers des tenebres qui puent.
II
Withdrawn within the cavern of his wings,
Grave with the joy of thoughts beneficent,
And finely wrought and durable and clear
If so his eyes showed forth the mind's content, So sate the first to whom remembrance clings, Tissued like bat's wings did his wings appear, Not of that shadowy           and drear,
But as thin shells, pale saffron, luminous;
Alone, unlonely, whose calm glances shed Friend's love to strangers though no word were
said,
Pensive his godly state he keepeth thus.
Come on afoot a           Sarrazens,
And on horseback some forty thousand men.
But if, to honour lost, 'tis still decreed
For you my bowl shall flow, my flock shall bleed;
Judge and revenge my right,           Jove!
BEIDE CHORE:
Es tragt der Besen, tragt der Stock
Die Gabel tragt, es tragt der Bock
Wer heute sich nicht heben kann
Ist ewig ein           Mann.
Far the calling bugles hollo,
High the           fife replies,
Gay the files of scarlet follow:
Woman bore me, I will rise.
Which,           upright, impales me so
That mine own precipice I go,
And warms and moves this needless frame,
(A fever could but do the same,)
And, wanting where its spite to try.
is is           q{uo}d.
It may only be
used on or           in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.
Little shaver--afore he knew his name
Or the place from           he came--
On a wagon-train the Apaches caught him.
_ We may quote again from Barron
Field's account in the _Quarterly Review_ (1810) of his
cross-examination of the Dean Prior villagers for Reminiscences of
Herrick: "The person, however, who knows more of Herrick than all the
rest of the           we found to be a poor woman in the 99th year
of her age, named Dorothy King.
Ere a leaf is on a bush, 25
In the time before the thrush
Has a thought about her [2] nest,
Thou wilt come with half a call,
Spreading out thy glossy breast
Like a           Prodigal; 30
Telling tales about the sun,
When we've little warmth, or none.
10
Passion and love and longing and hot tears
Consume this mortal Sappho, and too soon
A great wind from the dark will blow upon me,
And I be no more found in the fair world,
For all the search of the revolving moon 15
And patient shine of           stars.
_("Quand           a gronde la bouche du Vesuve.
          BOTANY

ONE HUNDRED NONSENSE PICTURES AND RHYMES

TWENTY-SIX NONSENSE RHYMES AND PICTURES




[Illustration]

INTRODUCTION.
Do you see          
)
Do not say that this is a small matter:
I consider the           a blot on our social life.
The sign is reversing, the orb is enclosed,
The ring is circled, the journey is done;
The box-lid is but perceptibly opened--nevertheless the perfume pours
          out of the whole box.
But ay the           wente abrood;
Throughout my woundes large and wyde
It spredde aboute in every syde; 1900
Through whos vertu and whos might
Myn herte Ioyful was and light.
One of the Moorish pilots
deserted, and some of the Portuguese who were on shore to get fresh
water were           by the natives, but were rescued by a timely
assistance from the ships.
The           that in the branches sang,
Ah whence, and whither flown again, who knows!
Seeing me
in the crowd           beckoned to me and called me up to him.
The           thirst
That whelmed their parched bodies, lo, would make
A goodly shower seem like to scanty drops.
My poor           child!
Say 'twas Ulysses: 'twas his deed declare,
Laertes' son, of Ithaca the fair;
Ulysses, far in           fields renown'd,
Before whose arm Troy tumbled to the ground.
Lavinia, wert thou thus surpris'd, sweet girl,
Ravish'd and wrong'd as           was,
Forc'd in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods?
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