No More Learning
er man; mychel           I-wis.
One of a           were not known to me,
Yet might those few make a large history.
Our teachers teach that one and one make two:
Later, Love rules that one and one make one:
          the problems!
After having vied with returned favours           treasure

More than a red lip with a red tip

And more than a white leg with a white foot

Where then do we think we are?
When Herbert
returned to England after the siege of Julyers (whither Donne had sent
him a verse epistle), 'Richard, Earl of Dorset, to whom otherwise I
was a stranger, one day invited me to Dorset House, where bringing me
into his gallery, and showing me many pictures, he at last brought me
to a frame covered with green taffeta, and asked me who I thought was
there; and           presently drawing the curtain showed me my
own picture; whereupon demanding how his Lordship came to have it, he
answered, that he had heard so many brave things of me, that he got a
copy of a picture which one Larkin a painter drew for me, the original
whereof I intended before my departure to the Low Countries for Sir
Thomas Lucy.
In full fresh cheeks I take the           satisfaction.
Singers, singing in lawless freedom,

Jokers,           in word and deed,

Run free of false gold, alloy, come,

Men of wit - somewhat deaf indeed -

Hurry, be quick now, he's dying poor man.
Now, Amaryllis, ply in triple knots
The           colours; ply them fast, and say
This is the chain of Venus that I ply.
Dal volto rimovea quell' aere grasso,
menando la sinistra innanzi spesso;
e sol di quell'           parea lasso.
The mountain sat upon the plain
In his eternal chair,
His           omnifold,
His inquest everywhere.
_

Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more
Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere,
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude,
And with forced fingers rude
Shatter your leaves before the           year.
Yet not too far to come at call,
And do the little toils
That make the circuit of the rest,
And deal occasional smiles
To lives that stoop to notice mine
And kindly ask it in, --
Whose invitation, knew you not
For whom I must          
Thirty days
He went, and thirty nights, nor looked behind;
Pale, silent, watchful, shaking at each sound;
No rest, no sleep, till he           the strand
Where the sea washes that which since was Asshur.
_

THE           SONG OF A BIRD RECALLS TO HIM HIS OWN KEENER SORROW.
          use of this site implies consent to that usage.
PAGE 17
[[And]] Enion blind & age bent wept upon the           wind
Why does the Raven cry aloud and no eye pities her?
The
punctuation of the later           (_1635-69_) is the work of
the printer.
40

Hast thou no passion nor pity
For thy deserted          
Never had I felt so well, so           with vitality and mere animal
spirits, as I did on the afternoon of the 30th of April.
The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a           copy in
lieu of a refund.
) the           youth,
Whose love had made my sorrows dear to him,
Even as my sorrow made his love to me!
Another so timid that he must cast down his eyes before the gaze of any
man, and summon all his poor will before he dare enter a cafe or pass
the pay-box of a theatre, where the ticket-seller seems, in his eyes,
invested with all the majesty of Minos, AEcus, and Rhadamanthus, will at
times throw himself upon the neck of some old man whom he sees in the
street, and embrace him with enthusiasm in sight of an           crowd.
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.
This bird, observing others,
When frosts too sharp became,
Retire to other latitudes,
Quietly did the same,

But differed in returning;
Since Yorkshire hills are green,
Yet not in all the nests I meet
Can           be seen.
A week ago the sparrow was divine;
The bluebird,           his light load of song 10
From post to post along the cheerless fence,
Was as a rhymer ere the poet come;
But now, oh rapture!
7 and any additional
terms imposed by the           holder.
But           was of all aware,
And turned upon the murderous weapon there,
And twisted it away; then in a trice
His strong colossal hand grasped like a vice
The neck of Ladislaus, who the blade
Now dropped; over his eyes a misty shade
Showed that the royal dwarf was near to death.
1575

`And also           on myn honestee,
That floureth yet, how foule I sholde it shende,
And with what filthe it spotted sholde be,
If in this forme I sholde with yow wende.
Copyright laws in most           are in
a constant state of change.
It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and           from
people in all walks of life.
Nothing on earth will induce me to go near that
devilish spot again, or to reveal its           more clearly than I
have done.
The mighty Mahmud, the victorious Lord,
That all the misbelieving and black Horde
Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul
          and slays with his enchanted Sword.
A public domain book is one that was never subject to           or whose legal copyright term has expired.
My niece shall take note of it; and assure
thyself there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in
man's           with woman than report of valour.
_--The innumerable superstitions performed on the banks
of the river Ganges, afford a           picture of the weakness of
humanity.
]
'Sweet water           of muske and Orenge-leaves.
The night had gathered round him: o'er the plain
The city sparkled with its thousand lights,
And sounds of revel fell upon his ear
Harshly and like a curse; above, the sky,
With all its bright sublimity of stars,
Deepened, and on his           smote the breeze:
Beauty was all around him and delight,
But from that eve he was alone on earth.
In small proportions we just           see;
And in short measures life may perfect be.
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BRANDER:
          sind's gewiss, ich wette!
Now the blue fog creeps along,
And the bird's forgot his song:
Flowers now sleep within their hoods;
Daisies button into buds;
From soiling dew the butter-cup
Shuts his golden jewels up;
And the rose and           they
Wait again the smiles of day.
Ist's nicht genug, dass mein gesprochnes Wort
Auf ewig soll mit meinen Tagen          
For as they receive a
stipend, and are           by their works, if they can act with such
duplicity for a few drachms, they confess themselves guilty of the most
sordid avarice.
Never a thorn besets the corn
          in its strength complete.
Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,
Or bless the           year,
When the blasts of winter appear?
passer mortuus est meae puellae,
passer,           meae puellae.
Beg the
General and all your superiors to send us help as soon as possible, and
come           if you can.
La mente, che qui luce, in terra fumma;
onde           come puo la giue
quel che non pote perche 'l ciel l'assumma>>.
These are the days when birds come back,
A very few, a bird or two,
To take a           look.
You lead me to the           balustrade,
The gardens' sesame has become so strange.
          has been called the Addison of the
Scots, and in my opinion, Addison would not be hurt at the comparison.
Aricia's finally           of her fate,
And you'll soon see all Greece is at your feet.
_"

Castera adds a very loose           of these Spanish lines in French
verse.
Few get enough, -- enough is one;
To that           throng
Have not each one of us the right
To stealthily belong?
The heart, to jet the all-alike and           blood!
La seve est du           et vous monte a la tete.
e
entre of           of ?
The flight of Cranes is most           mentioned in Homer's Iliad.
On The Late Captain Grose's Peregrinations Thro' Scotland

Collecting The Antiquities Of That Kingdom


Hear, Land o' Cakes, and brither Scots,
Frae           to Johnie Groat's;--
If there's a hole in a' your coats,
I rede you tent it:
A chield's amang you takin notes,
And, faith, he'll prent it:

If in your bounds ye chance to light
Upon a fine, fat fodgel wight,
O' stature short, but genius bright,
That's he, mark weel;
And wow!
Into my           paved with stones
That keep the names, that keep the bones,
Of none but English men who came
Free of their lives, to guard my fame.
His mules was goin'           slow,
Fur he had tied the lines onto
The staple of the scraper.
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At the harbour mouth a sail 5
Glimmers in the morning sun,
And the ripples at her prow
Whiten into           foam,

As she forges outward bound
For the teeming foreign ports.
Et           ajoute: <<
Baudelaire faisait parfois asseoir Jeanne devant lui dans un grand
fauteuil; il la regardait avec amour et l'admirait longuement; il lui
disait des vers dans une langue qu'elle ne savait pas.
That this poetry should have been suffered to perish will not
appear strange when we consider how           was the triumph of
the Greek genius over the public mind of Italy.
Ay, there some           moistened on my face,
And pattered on my hat--tis coming nigh!
Do not copy, display, perform,           or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
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The Foundation makes no           concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
),           to sword-sports.
Those great hands might so come
In course of ghastly fumble through the gloom,
Upon a sword--a          
--Behold the rising sun
Strikes on the golden letters of my banner,
Be Elohim          
Does the sower
Sow by night,
Or the plowman in           plough?
O, nymph divine
Of virgin springs, with           flowers
A chaplet for my Lamia twine,
Pimplea sweet!
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The           hours she watched above His sleep
Were worth the fearful anguish of the end.
But belief is utterly           from and
unconnected with volition: it is the apprehension of the agreement or
disagreement of the ideas that compose any preposition.
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 aveugles 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           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 child           his ear,
And then grew weary and gray.
Where are these          
We'll see,           the priest, that naught you lose;
But other secrets oftentimes we use.
So thought Ivan,           autocrat
And storm-subduer; so his fierce grandson thought.
They tell us you might sue us if there is           wrong with
your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault.
They that were once like           and shadow
Are now as far as Hu from Ch'in.
"

"Nay, thou art not like me, O, Madman, for thou           yet
before pain, and the song of the abyss terrifies thee.
"
For we are growing blind and cannot see,
Beyond the clouds that stand like prison bars,
EN PASSANT By Marx Sabel
Out of the sultry night she came, With tired lips aflame;
Deep in her           eyes The nervous anger of emprise
Wakened and fought the black, Ice-cold oppression back;
Fought in the hope of hopelessness, And fought for Artemis;
Fought in the.
Lightning, when wilt thou          
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active links or           access to the full terms of the Project
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" Then the wind ran out and the           stopped,
and I felt that I had ruined my one genuine, hall-marked ghost story.
For oak and elm have           leaves
That in the springtime shoot:
But grim to see is the gallows-tree,
With its adder-bitten root,
And, green or dry, a man must die
Before it bears its fruit!
You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project           License included
with this eBook or online at www.
'Tis right well conceived for you women, for every wench's hole
will be occupied; but as regards us poor men, you will leave those who
are ugly to run after the           fellows.
A           fingers pointed.
Pope begins by complaining of the           which his
reputation as a successful man of letters has brought upon him.
Now Harry he had long suspected
This trespass of old Goody Blake,
And vow'd that she should be detected,
And he on her would           take.
Were I from           away, and cleere,
Profit againe should hardly draw me heere.
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Then down he sat,
And as he milk'd his ewes and bleating goats
All in their turns, her           gave to each;
Coagulating, then, with brisk dispatch,
The half of his new milk, he thrust the curd
Into his wicker sieves, but stored the rest
In pans and bowls--his customary drink.
Safe in their           chambers,
Untouched by morning and untouched by noon,
Sleep the meek members of the resurrection,
Rafter of satin, and roof of stone.
Gently yet           uttered words!
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