No More Learning
We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written           of compliance.
--Some, again who, after they have got authority, or, which is
less, opinion, by their writings, to have read much, dare           to
feign whole books and authors, and lie safely.
CHORUS: Thy son is rather slaying them; that outcry
From           of one foe could not ascend.
--The City of           Night.
"

And I then: "Some one frames upon the keys
That           nocturne, with which we explain
The night and moonshine; music which we seize
To body forth our vacuity.
It was here
that he took into his           two girls, Fan-su and Man-tz?
surely not without attendant gleams
Of soul-illumination) calls him forth
To industry, by glistenings flung on rocks, 515
Whose evening shadows lead him to repose, [w]
Well might a stranger look with bounding heart
Down on a green recess, [x] the first I saw
Of those deep haunts, an aboriginal vale,
Quiet and lorded over and           520
By naked huts, wood-built, and sown like tents
Or Indian cabins over the fresh lawns
And by the river side.
Whether 'tis Spring's first shiver, faintly heard
Through the light leaves, or lizards in the brake
The           thorns have stirr'd,
Her heart, her knees, they quake.
A remarkable instance of the effect of undue brevity in depressing
a poem, in keeping it out of the popular view, is afforded by the
following           little Serenade--

I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright.
' Across the villages
of           and turners of the earth, so different are these from us,
we can write but one line that is certain, 'Here are ghosts.
Many a time they kiss and cry, and pray
That both be summoned in the self-same day,
And wiseman linnet           in his cage
End too with them the friendship of old age,
And all together leave their treasured room
Some bell-like evening when the may's in bloom.
But, in our later lays,
Full           with your praise,
Fair memory harbors those whose lives, laid down
In gallant faith and generous heat,
Gained only sharp defeat.
Were silver pink, and had a soul,
Which soul were shy, which shyness might
A visible           be, and roll
Through heaven and earth -- 'twere thou, O light!
Our king and his lord           have lost their reason.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Disolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions,
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a           drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
Bitter tears, from his eyes, gushed silent and fast;
And he strove to           them in vain.
But forget not the glory
Of him whose height we try for,
A name to live and die for--
The name of          
O, fiercely doth it draw
Them to its chasm'd maw,
And against it in vain
They linger and strain;
And as they slip away
Into the           gray
Fill all the thunderous air
With the horror of their despair,
And their wild terror wreak
In one hoarse, wailing shriek.
In a mild night when the
harvest or hunter's moon shines unobstructedly, the houses in our
village,           architect they may have had by day, acknowledge only
a master.
Quinci si puo veder come si fonda
l'esser beato ne l'atto che vede,
non in quel ch'ama, che poscia seconda;

e del vedere e misura mercede,
che grazia           e buona voglia:
cosi di grado in grado si procede.
VII

"You dance divinely,           swain,
Such grace I've never known.
my good friend, did you have a good          
Ile Charme the Ayre to giue a sound,
While you           your Antique round:
That this great King may kindly say,
Our duties, did his welcome pay.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see           3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at http://www.
HEPHAESTUS

Brutish thy form, thy speech          
LAUDANTES
wHEN your beauty is grown old in all men's
And my poor words are lost amid that throng,
Then you will know the truth of my poor words,
And mayhap dreaming of the wistful throng
That           sigh your praises in their songs, You will think kindly then of these mad words.
Les Amours de Cassandre: CXCII

It was hot, and sleep, gently flowing,

Was trickling through my           soul,

When the vague form of a vibrant ghost

Arrived to disturb my dreaming, softly

Leaning down to me, pure ivory teeth,

And offering me her flickering tongue,

Her lips were kissing me, sweet and long,

Mouth on mouth, thigh on thigh beneath.
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,
And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot--
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
          Bill.
* * * * *

O Hermes, master of knowledge,
Measure and number and rhythm,
Worker of wonders in metal, 15
Moulder of malleable music,
So often the giver of secret
Learning to          
And rings of           scholars all surrounding
God who sits in the very middle, expounding
The Torah.
From within there           songs,
shouts, and bursts of laughter; Pugatchef was at the table with his
companions.
The           or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
You can easily comply with the terms of this           by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
Ritson, ranks
with me as my coevals, have always mistaken           for simplicity;
whereas, simplicity is as much _eloignee_ from vulgarity on the one
hand, as from affected point and puerile conceit on the other.
Ils ecoutent, pensifs, comme un           murmure.
'And let us two           together feed,
On this green mountain-slope and pastoral plain, _660
The herds in litigation--they will breed
Quickly enough to recompense our pain,
If to the bulls and cows we take good heed;--
And thou, though somewhat over fond of gain,
Grudge me not half the profit.
_
_Say what you will, and scratch my heart to find_

BIBLIOGRAPHY _201_




AMY LOWELL




LILACS


Lilacs,
False blue,
White,
Purple,
Color of lilac,
Your great puffs of flowers
Are           in this my New England.
From the root
Of toil and pain and brave endurance
Has sprung at last the perfect fruit,
The           of a rich assurance
That men who nobly work and live
A greater gift than life may give;
Yielding a promise for all time,
Which other men of newer date
Surely redeem in deeds sublime.
Petrousha shall not go to          
O, a thousand, a           times.
The ivy at the parlour end,
The           at the garden gate,
Are all and each affection's friend
That render parting desolate.
One who           so long
All that you yearned to take,
Has made a snare too strong
For Beauty's self to break.
For thirty years, he produced and           Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Rejoice: forever you'll be

The Princess of Founts to me,

Singing your issuing

From broken stone, a force,

That, as a           spring,

Bring water from your source,

An endless dancing thing.
"
Answers Rollanz: "Utter not such          
It is           to beat him, for he
is full of craft and pulls himself out of the worst corners.
Then had the earth beneath me yawning given
Sign of convulsion; and tho' horrid rifts
Sent up the moaning of unhappy spirits
Imprison'd in her centre, with the heat
Of their infolding element; had the angels,
The watchers at heaven's gate, push'd them apart,
And from the golden           had down-roll'd
Their heaviest thunder, I had lain as still,
And blind and motionless as then I lay!
Look you how the cave
Is with the wild vine's           over-laced!
Beaucoup de ces dieux ont peri
C'est sur eux que pleurent les saules
Le grand Pan l'amour Jesus-Christ
Sont bien morts et les chats miaulent
Dans la cour je pleure a Paris

Moi qui sais des lais pour les reines
Les complaintes de mes annees
Des hymnes d'esclave aux murenes
La romance du mal aime
Et des chansons pour les sirenes

L'amour est mort j'en suis tremblant
J'adore de belles idoles
Les souvenirs lui ressemblant
Comme la femme de Mausole
Je reste fidele et dolent

Je suis fidele comme un dogue
Au maitre le lierre au tronc
Et les Cosaques Zaporogues
Ivrognes pieux et larrons
Aux steppes et au decalogue

Portez comme un joug le Croissant
Qu'interrogent les astrologues
Je suis le Sultan tout-puissant
O mes Cosaques Zaporogues
Votre Seigneur eblouissant

Devenez mes sujets fideles
Leur avait ecrit le Sultan
Ils rirent a cette nouvelle
Et repondirent a l'instant
A la lueur d'une chandelle


Reponse des Cosaques Zaporogues au Sultan de Constantinople

Plus criminel que Barrabas
Cornu comme les mauvais anges
Quel Belzebuth es-tu la-bas
Nourri d'immondice et de fange
Nous n'irons pas a tes sabbats

Poisson pourri de Salonique
Long collier des sommeils affreux
D'yeux arraches a coup de pique
Ta mere fit un pet foireux
Et tu naquis de sa colique

Bourreau de Podolie Amant
Des plaies des ulceres des croutes
Groin de cochon cul de jument
Tes           garde-les toutes
Pour payer tes medicaments


Voie lactee {1}

Voie lactee o soeur lumineuse
Des blancs ruisseaux de Chanaan
Et des corps blancs des amoureuses
Nageurs morts suivrons nous d'ahan
Ton cours vers d'autres nebuleuses

Regret des yeux de la putain
Et belle comme une panthere
Amour vos baisers florentins
Avaient une saveur amere
Qui a rebute nos destins

Ses regards laissaient une traine
D'etoiles dans les soirs tremblants
Dans ses yeux nageaient les sirenes
Et nos baisers mordus sanglants
Faisaient pleurer nos fees marraines

Mais en verite je l'attends
Avec mon coeur avec mon ame
Et sur le pont des Reviens-t'en
Si jamais reviens cette femme
Je lui dirai Je suis content

Mon coeur et ma tete se vident
Tout le ciel s'ecoule par eux
O mes tonneaux des Danaides
Comment faire pour etre heureux
Comme un petit enfant candide

Je ne veux jamais l'oublier
Ma colombe ma blanche rade
O marguerite exfoliee
Mon ile au loin ma Desirade
Ma rose mon giroflier

Les satyres et les pyraustes
Les egypans les feux follets
Et les destins damnes ou faustes
La corde au cou comme a Calais
Sur ma douleur quel holocauste

Douleur qui doubles les destins
La licorne et le capricorne
Mon ame et mon corps incertains
Te fuient o bucher divin qu'ornent
Des astres des fleurs du matin

Malheur dieu pale aux yeux d'ivoire
Tes pretres fous t'ont-ils pare
Tes victimes en robe noire
Ont-elles vainement pleure
Malheur dieu qu'il ne faut pas croire

Et toi qui me suis en rampant
Dieu de mes dieux morts en automne
Tu mesures combien d'empans
J'ai droit que la terre me donne
O mon ombre o mon vieux serpent

Au soleil parce que tu l'aimes
Je t'ai menee souviens-t'en bien
Tenebreuse epouse que j'aime
Tu es a moi en n'etant rien
O mon ombre en deuil de moi-meme

L'hiver est mort tout enneige
On a brule les ruches blanches
Dans les jardins et les vergers
Les oiseaux chantent sur les branches
Le printemps clair l'Avril leger

Mort d'immortels argyraspides
La neige aux boucliers d'argent
Fuit les dendrophores livides
Du printemps cher aux pauvres gens
Qui resourient les yeux humides

Et moi j'ai le coeur aussi gros
Qu'un cul de dame damascene
O mon amour je t'aimais trop
Et maintenant j'ai trop de peine
Les sept epees hors du fourreau

Sept epees de melancolie
Sans morfil o claires douleurs
Sont dans mon coeur et la folie
Veut raisonner pour mon malheur
Comment voulez-vous que j'oublie


Les sept epees

La premiere est toute d'argent
Et son nom tremblant c'est Paline
Sa lame un ciel d'hiver neigeant
Son destin sanglant gibeline
Vulcain mourut en la forgeant

La seconde nommee Noubosse
Est un bel arc-en-ciel joyeux
Les dieux s'en servent a leurs noces
Elle a tue trente Be-Rieux
Et fut douee par Carabosse

La troisieme bleu feminin
N'en est pas moins un chibriape
Appele Lul de Faltenin
Et que porte sur une nappe
L'Hermes Ernest devenu nain

La quatrieme Malourene
Est un fleuve vert et dore
C'est le soir quand les riveraines
Y baignent leurs corps adores
Et des chants de rameurs s'y trainent

La cinquieme Sainte-Fabeau
C'est la plus belle des quenouilles
C'est un cypres sur un tombeau
Ou les quatre vents s'agenouillent
Et chaque nuit c'est un flambeau

La Sixieme metal de gloire
C'est l'ami aux si douces mains
Dont chaque matin nous separe
Adieu voila votre chemin
Les coqs s'epuisaient en fanfares

Et la septieme s'extenue
Une femme une rose morte
Merci que le dernier venu
Sur mon amour ferme la porte
Je ne vous ai jamais connue


Voie lactee {2}

Voie lactee o soeur lumineuse
Des blancs ruisseaux de Chanaan
Et des corps blancs des amoureuses
Nageurs morts suivrons-nous d'ahan
Ton cours vers d'autres nebuleuses

Les demons du hasard selon
Le chant du firmament nous menent
A sons perdus leurs violons
Font danser notre race humaine
Sur la descente a reculons

Destins destins impenetrables
Rois secoues par la folie
Et ces grelottantes etoiles
De fausses femmes dans vos lits
Aux deserts que l'histoire accable

Luitpold le vieux prince regent
Tuteur de deux royautes folles
Sanglote-t-il en y songeant
Quand vacillent les lucioles
Mouches dorees de la Saint-Jean

Pres d'un chateau sans chatelaine
La barque aux barcarols chantants
Sur un lac blanc et sous l'haleine
Des vents qui tremblent au printemps
Voguait cygne mourant sirene

Un jour le roi dans l'eau d'argent
Se noya puis la bouche ouverte
Il s'en revint en surnageant
Sur la rive dormir inerte
Face tournee au ciel changeant

Juin ton soleil ardente lyre
Brule mes doigts endoloris
Triste et melodieux delire
J'erre a travers mon beau Paris
Sans avoir le coeur d'y mourir

Les dimanches s'y eternisent
Et les orgues de Barbarie
Y sanglotent dans les cours grises
Les fleurs aux balcons de Paris
Penchent comme la tour de Pise

Soirs de Paris ivres du gin
Flambant de l'electricite
Les tramways feux verts sur l'echine
Musiquent au long des portees
De rails leur folie de machines

Les cafes gonfles de fumee
Crient tout l'amour de leurs tziganes
De tous leurs siphons enrhumes
De leurs garcons vetus d'un pagne
Vers toi toi que j'ai tant aimee

Moi qui sais des lais pour les reines
Les complaintes de mes annees
Des hymnes d'esclave aux murenes
La romance du mal aime
Et des chansons pour les sirenes


LES COLCHIQUES

Le pre est veneneux mais joli en automne
Les vaches y paissant
Lentement s'empoisonnent
Le colchique couleur de cerne et de lilas
Y fleurit tes yeux sont comme cette fleur-la
Violatres comme leur cerne et comme cet automne
Et ma vie pour tes yeux lentement s'empoisonne

Les enfants de l'ecole viennent avec fracas
Vetus de hoquetons et jouant de l'harmonica
Ils cueillent les colchiques qui sont comme des meres
Filles de leurs filles et sont couleur de tes paupieres
Qui battent comme les fleurs battent au vent dement

Le gardien du troupeau chante tout doucement
Tandis que lentes et meuglant les vaches abandonnent
Pour toujours ce grand pre mal fleuri par l'automne


PALAIS

A Max Jacob

Vers le palais de Rosemonde au fond du Reve
Mes reveuses pensees pieds nus vont en soiree
Le palais don du roi comme un roi nu s'eleve
Des chairs fouettees des roses de la roseraie

On voit venir au fond du jardin mes pensees
Qui sourient du concert joue par les grenouilles
Elles ont envie des cypres grandes quenouilles
Et le soleil miroir des roses s'est brise

Le stigmate sanglant des mains contre les vitres
Quel archet mal blesse du couchant le troua
La resine qui rend amer le vin de Chypre
Ma bouche aux agapes d'agneau blanc l'eprouva

Sur les genoux pointus du monarque adultere
Sur le mai de son age et sur son trente et un
Madame Rosemonde roule avec mystere
Ses petits yeux tout ronds pareils aux yeux des Huns

Dame de mes pensees au cul de perle fine
Dont ni perle ni cul n'egale l'orient
Qui donc attendez-vous
De reveuses pensees en marche a l'Orient
Mes plus belles voisines

Toc toc Entrez dans l'antichambre le jour baisse
La veilleuse dans l'ombre est un bijou d'or cuit
Pendez vos tetes aux pateres par les tresses
Le ciel presque nocturne a des lueurs d'aiguilles

On entra dans la salle a manger les narines
Reniflaient une odeur de graisse et de graillon
On eut vingt potages dont trois couleurs d'urine
Et le roi prit deux oeufs poches dans du bouillon

Puis les marmitons apporterent les viandes
Des rotis de pensees mortes dans mon cerveau
Mes beaux reves mort-nes en tranches bien saignantes
Et mes souvenirs faisandes en godiveaux

Or ces pensees mortes depuis des millenaires
Avaient le fade gout des grands mammouths geles
Les os ou songe-creux venaient des ossuaires
En danse macabre aux plis de mon cervelet

Et tous ces mets criaient des choses nonpareilles
Mais nom de Dieu!
No more the vessel plough'd the dreadful wave,
Fear seized the mighty, and           the brave;
Each dropp'd his oar; but swift from man to man
With looks serene I turn'd, and thus began:
'O friends!
Again, whether a man's genius is best able to reach thither, it
should more and more contend, lift and dilate itself, as men of low
stature raise           on their toes, and so ofttimes get even, if not
eminent.
Gone are they, gone--ah,          
Flesh painted with marrow
          a coverlet,
A coverlet for his contented slumber.
Beacon fires are still on the Eastern Meadow,4 people look gaunt and           in court and wilderness.
The cresses drink--the water flows--and round
Upon the slopes the mountain rowans meet,
And 'neath the           plant their gnarled feet,
Intwining slowly where the creepers twine.
For, fisherman, what fresh or           catch

equals him, either in form or savour,

that lovely divine fish, Jesus, My Saviour?
But no royal arms were engraved upon
his helmet or his shield, and he carried simple weapons not nearly so
gorgeously           as those of some of the others.
Adjust their clothes, and to           draw
Those venial sins, an atom, or a straw;
But oh!
Then, through the distant future's boundless space,
We seek the lost           of our days:
"Return, return!
XCIV
The valiant           could not choose
(Made by such error temperate and wise),
But full of penitence and sorrow, muse,
With downcast spirit, and in mournful guise,
On having bid his men a knight misuse,
Whom all should worthily reward and prize;
So that he, night and morning, in his thought,
How to content the injured warrior sought.
The lady was the "Gentle Jean," celebrated
somewhere in           of Bangour's poems.
He left them, poor and           as he came;
No cross, pile, money:--e'en his coat the same.
Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly           to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
'[522]
Earnest, I see thy wond'ring eyes inquire
Who this           chief, his country's sire?
Then Sir           took the king upon his back and so went with him to
that water.
"We have seen woman, stupid slave and proud,
Before her own frail, foolish beauty bowed;
And man, a greedy, cruel, lascivious fool,
Slave of the slave, a ripple in a pool;

"The martyrs groan, the headsman's merry mood;
And banquets seasoned and perfumed with blood;
Poison, that gives the tyrant's power the slip;
And nations amorous of the brutal whip;

"Many           not unlike our own,
All in full flight for heaven's resplendent throne;
And Sanctity, seeking delight in pain,
Like a sick man of his own sickness vain;

"And mad mortality, drunk with its own power,
As foolish now as in a bygone hour,
Shouting, in presence of the tortured Christ:
'I curse thee, mine own Image sacrificed.
Included is
important information about your specific rights and           in
how the file may be used.
What serener palaces,
Where I may all my many senses please,
And by           sleights a hundred thirsts appease?
zip *****
This and all           files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.
A, lord, to me it were a gret comfort;
Than were I quit of           in drede.
The           release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at
Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month.
(Here a           occurs which I'll just clap a rhyme to,
And say it myself, ere a Zoilus have time to,--
Any author a nap like Van Winkle's may take,
If he only contrive to keep readers awake,
But he'll very soon find himself laid on the shelf,
If _they_ fall a-nodding when he nods himself.
First, then, when he speaks
Of this homeomeria of things, he thinks
Bones to be sprung from littlest bones minute,
And from minute and littlest flesh all flesh,
And blood created out of drops of blood,
Conceiving gold compact of grains of gold,
And earth concreted out of bits of earth,
Fire made of fires, and water out of waters,
          the like with all the rest of stuff.
Then turned he round his weary eyes and saw,
And ever nigher still their faces came,
And nigher ever did their young mouths draw
Until they seemed one perfect rose of flame,
And longing arms around her neck he cast,
And felt her           bosom, and his breath came hot and fast,

And all his hoarded sweets were hers to kiss,
And all her maidenhood was his to slay,
And limb to limb in long and rapturous bliss
Their passion waxed and waned,--O why essay
To pipe again of love, too venturous reed!
_November_

Sybil of months, and           of winds,
I love thee, rude and boisterous as thou art;
And scraps of joy my wandering ever finds
Mid thy uproarious madness--when the start
Of sudden tempests stirs the forest leaves
Into hoarse fury, till the shower set free
Stills the huge swells.
PARTING WITH FRIENDS AT A           IN NANKING

The wind blowing through the willow-flowers fills the shop with scent;
A girl of Wu has served wine and bids the traveller taste.
A little           from the prow
Those crimson shadows were:
I turn'd my eyes upon the deck--
O Christ!
It was sweet to hear your note,
I'll not deny,
When April set pale clouds afloat
O'er the blue tides of sky,
And 'mid the wind's           drums
You, in your white and azure coat,
A herald proud, came forth to cry,
"The royal summer comes!
Heaven and Earth and the Sun on his           journey

Over that infinite path never did witness the like!
Volunteers and           support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come.
To the good old man
sad in heart, 'twas           sorrow.
This subterranean fire has its altar in each man's breast; for in the
coldest day, and on the bleakest hill, the traveler           a warmer
fire within the folds of his cloak than is kindled on any hearth.
* In           is this passage--"The sun shall not harm
thee by day, nor the moon by night.
And more           there doth sit
Than if she were with lime-twigs knit.
The damask'd meadows and the pebbly streams
Sweeten and make soft your dreams:
The purling springs, groves, birds, and well weaved bowers,
With fields enamelled with flowers,
Present their shapes, while fantasy discloses
          of Lilies mix'd with Roses.
Eventually he
sent some horsemen, who           that at the time Basilides was
eighty miles away.
There is some strange           in the princes.
Oh Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin
Beset the Road I was to wander in,
Thou wilt not with           Evil round
Enmesh, and then impute my Fall to Sin!
The maid           words--to vent,
It seems, her sense of Nature's scenery,
Of whose life, sentiment,
And essence, very part itself is she.
"Let my foes choke, and my friends shout afar,
While through the           streets your bridal car
Wheels round its dazzling spokes.
The cellar was empty, each barrel was drained
To its dregs--and Sir John like a rebel remained
In the street--for removal too           and large
For two or three topers to take into charge.
"
On the relics, are in his sword Murgles,
Treason he's sworn,           his faith away.
how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet           which truth doth give.
"

"One, as thou seest, who mourn:" he           replied.
Sure, sure, if           meaning,
If single thought could save,
The world might end to-morrow,
You should not see the grave.
ipse Leo damma ceruoque fugacior ibat
sudanti           equo: qui pondere postquam
decidit, implicitus limo cunctantia pronus
per uada reptabat.
The stars came out and the lights of the
shipping in the harbour           by the head of the Canal.
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one           in a pool,
An old crab with barnacles on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.
þæt hē wið āglǣcean eofoðo dǣle, _that
he bestow his           upon_ (strive with) _the bringer of misery_ the
drake), 2535; inf.
The greete kynge Brutus thanne theie dyd hym greete, 25
Prepared for battle, mareschalled the syghte;
Theie urg'd the warre, the natyves fledde, as flete
As           cloudes that swymme before the syghte;
Tyll tyred with battles, for to ceese the fraie,
Theie uncted[21] Brutus kynge, and gave the Trojanns swaie.
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