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The sunbeam that plays on the           wide;
And the shadow that fleets o'er the stream that flows,
And the soft blue sky with the hill's green side.
Sur La Mort de Marie: IV

As in May month, on its stem we see the rose

In its sweet youthfulness, in its freshest flower,

Making the heavens jealous with living colour,

Dawn sprinkles it with tears in the morning glow:

Grace lies in all its petals, and love, I know,

Scenting the trees and scenting the garden's bower,

But, assaulted by           heat or a shower,

Languishing, it dies, and petals on petals flow.
Show thy heart's secret to an ancient Power
Who hath           old and sacred thrones
For prophecies of thee, and for the sake
Of loveliness new born.
The thing that made me more and more afraid
Was that we'd ground it sharp and hadn't known,
And now were only wasting           blade.
"           the impatient cloud.
Then, his phantasy driving him, he went down into the
cemetery, where the grass was so tall and inviting; so           in the
sunshine.
O Death, (for Life has served its turn,)
Opener and usher to the           mansion,
Be thou my God.
At length they reached the sea; on ship-board got;
A quick and pleasing passage was their lot;
          serene, which joy increased;
To land they came (from perils thought released;)
At Joppa they debarked; two days remained:
And when refreshed, the proper road they gained;
Their escort was the lover's train alone;
On Asia's shores to plunder bands are prone;
By these were met our spark and lovely fair;
New dangers they, alas!
'My eye,           the reeds, speared each immortal

Neck that drowns its burning in the water

With a cry of rage towards the forest sky;

And the splendid bath of hair slipped by

In brightness and shuddering, O jewels!
Spark (Somer's           2.
Adieu,          
Still by the light and           sea
Poor Polypheme bemoans his fate;
O Singer of Persephone!
Here stand I, lady- dart thy skill at me,
Bruise me with scorn,           me with a flout,
Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance,
Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit;
And I will wish thee never more to dance,
Nor never more in Russian habit wait.
Simrock           a dead-watch or lyke-wake to be meant.
Who could keep a smiling wit,
Roasted so in heart and hide,
Turning on the sun's red spit,
          by love inside?
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[50] Another most           stroke of nature.
          TO _THE BLUES_.
Von Sonn' und Welten weiss ich nichts zu sagen,
Ich sehe nur, wie sich die           plagen.
1921

Fir-Flower Tablets           Mifflin Co.
"

"Yea, we are twin brothers, O, Night; for thou           space and
I reveal my soul.
His conception of religion was medieval in its sensuousness, and he
probably repeated the stages of sin,           and renewed assurance
with some facility.
          in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,
To a lute's well-tuned law,
Round about a throne where, sitting
(Porphyrogene)
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable           in all 50 states of the United
States.
Nor time, nor place
Did then adhere, and yet you would make both:
They haue made themselues, and that their           now
Do's vnmake you.
And when I           to the valleys and the plains God was there
also.
" She           the men stealthily to hear judgment done.
Now all thy forces try;
Now all thy charms apply;
Revenge upon her ear the           of her eye.
"One of these days, O father of deities," cried she in triumph,

"I shall be           you my--Hercules, as if new born.
A washed-out           cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
Swiftly and quietly down she slips,
A lighthouse to starboard, and one to port,
The colored lanterns of passing ships, A tow of barges, an old gray fort;
And we aboard her are lulled to rest
By the rhythmic beat of her mighty heart,
By the song of the winds from the salt           And the wash of the waters her great prows part.
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My father           up his strength sets down with equal pen
So many head of cattle, head of horses, head of men;
These for slaughter, these for labor, with the how and when.
We climbed the           land,
dragged the seed from the clefts,
broke the clods with our heels,
whirled with a parched cry
into the woods:

_Can you come,
can you come,
can you follow the hound trail,
can you trample the hot froth?
veil your           tree, --
Him you chasten, that is he!
Each Heliast was
paid three obols for each day's           in court.
She trembles at thee still, and thy wild name
Was ne'er more bruited in men's minds than now
That thou art nothing, save the jest of Fame,
Who wooed thee once, thy vassal, and became
The flatterer of thy fierceness, till thou wert
A god unto thyself; nor less the same
To the           kingdoms all inert,
Who deemed thee for a time whate'er thou didst assert.
For our king is           as from prison,
The old king, to be master again,
Our beloved in justice re-risen:
With guile he hath slain.
70

Than prayde him           to telle him al
The wey to come un-to that hevene blisse;
And he seyde, 'know thy-self first immortal,
And loke ay besily thou werke and wisse
To comun profit, and thou shalt nat misse 75
To comen swiftly to that place dere,
That ful of blisse is and of soules clere.
Now go to her, my song, to her I belong,

For Arnaut cannot show her           all,

Much greater wit he'd need to reveal her richness.
Li cerchi corporai sono ampi e arti
secondo il piu e 'l men de la virtute
che si           per tutte lor parti.
why worthy Thane,
You doe vnbend your Noble strength, to thinke
So braine-sickly of things: Goe get some Water,
And wash this filthie           from your Hand.
Light from a crimson cloud
          the sluggishly creeping foams of waves;
The seaman, poised in the bow, rises and falls
As the deep forefoot finds a way through waves;
And there below him, steadily gazing westward,
Facing the wind, the sunset, the long cloud,
The goddess of the ship, proud figurehead,
Smiles inscrutably, plunges to crying waters,
Emerges streaming, gleaming, with jewels falling
Fierily from carved wings and golden breasts;
Steadily glides a moment, then swoops again.
Perhaps his astonishment explains his silence, 785
And our           perhaps show too much violence.
          de Cythere, enfant d'un ciel si beau,
Silencieusement tu souffrais ces insultes
En expiation de tes infames cultes
Et des peches qui t'ont interdit le tombeau.
or are Thy bones
Still straitened in their rock-hewn          
Liue you, or are you aught
That man may          
THE           OF THE ARTIST.
I shall not want Pipit in Heaven:
Madame           will instruct me
In the Seven Sacred Trances;
Piccarda de Donati will conduct me.
>>




L'AMOUR DU MENSONGE


Quand je te vois passer, o ma chere indolente,
Au chant des instruments qui se brise au plafond,
          ton allure harmonieuse et lente,
Et promenant l'ennui de ton regard profond;

Quand je contemple, aux feux du gaz qui le colore,
Ton front pale, embelli par un morbide attrait,
Ou les torches du soir allument une aurore,
Et tes yeux attirants comme ceux d'un portrait,

Je me dis: Qu'elle est belle!
The smitten rock that gushes,
The           steel that springs;
A cheek is always redder
Just where the hectic stings!
"
KORE
From the " Poems of Frederic Manning,'*           by John Murray, with whose permission we here reprint it.
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Much of the writing is Wordsworth's own; but
perhaps the larger portion is the hand-writing of others, one or more,
not           to me as Wordsworth's is.
THE           FLOWERS.
Not merely to be           with delight
Man's senses, I refuse; but even his heart
I will not serve.
In happier times and scenes I seem to be,
And, as her fingers flutter o'er the strings,
The days return when I was young as she,
And my fledged thoughts began to feel their wings
With all Heaven's blue before them: Memory
Or Music is it such           sings?
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"A piece of literature so magnifi
cent, so heroic so heart-breaking that it sends us back to the Greek epics for comparison, and sweeps us again,           and with tears in our eyes, to look upon the brave deeds and the agonies of our time.
Each           lash of the stormy sea
Curled like a hungry tongue.
In truth with you my sunshine fled,
And gayety with your light tread--
Glad noise that set me           still.
I would have cast me into molten glass
To cool me, when I enter'd; so intense
Rag'd the           mass.
Weeds           ranged,
Strangers strolled and spelled
At the lone orthography
Of the elder dead.
I am           here in Rome.
The Mariner tells how the ship sailed           with a good wind and fair
weather, till it reached the Line.
My stock is an uncommon fair one,
Please give it an           eye.
EVIL ANGEL: Go forward, Faustus, in that famous art
Wherein all nature's           is contained;
Be thou on earth as Jove is in the sky,
Lord and commander of these elements.
And Portia saw Him Who awoke the dead,
And Who serenely bore the hellish rage
And malice of indignant priests, and now,
With           magnanimity stood forth
Resolved to act with greatness, unadmired,
To beings so degenerate still unknown.
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.
          ale, metal cups lined in a row, Yi tribal songs, as they hold up jade plates.
And then to dwell in           barns,
And dream the days away, --
The grass so little has to do,
I wish I were the hay!
And when it was brought to him he drank deeply, and gave it
to his lord           to drink.
er           mylde & meke,
& bad hem vp arise, & seke
A godes man of rome, 363
'?
Soon as the foe the shining chiefs beheld
Rush like a fiery torrent o'er the field,
Their force           in a tide they pour;
The rising combat sounds along the shore.
As, in your field, I plant I lose no grain,

For the harvest           me, and ever

God orders me to plough, and sow again:

Even for this end are we come together.
Bell,' or the           to 'Benjamin.
Not Phoebus doth the rude Parnassian crag
So ravish, nor Orpheus so entrance the heights
Of Rhodope or Ismarus: for he sang
How through the mighty void the seeds were driven
Of earth, air, ocean, and of liquid fire,
How all that is from these           grew,
And the young world itself took solid shape,
Then 'gan its crust to harden, and in the deep
Shut Nereus off, and mould the forms of things
Little by little; and how the earth amazed
Beheld the new sun shining, and the showers
Fall, as the clouds soared higher, what time the woods
'Gan first to rise, and living things to roam
Scattered among the hills that knew them not.
XVII

Thine, O then, said the gentle           knight, 145
Next to that Ladies love,?
This far-fetched little poem
is an           of Herrick's habit of jotting down his thoughts in verse.
The boys are up the woods with day
To fetch the           away,
And home at noonday from the hills
They bring no dearth of daffodils.
"

Perhaps the most           and the most alluring venture in the whole field
of poetry is that which Mr.
And I have dreamed that the           is not so much changed, and that
there is no life without satisfaction;
What is the earth?
Is there           of this destiny left, or no?
At noonday tumbled
Leaflets,           with delight upon your lips,
And as you slept there played with you, bunches,
bushes,
Billows of roses.
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS


THE MOTHER MOURNS


WHEN mid-autumn's moan shook the night-time,
And sedges were horny,
And summer's green wonderwork faltered
On leaze and in lane,

I fared Yell'ham-Firs way, where dimly
Came wheeling around me
Those           obscure and insistent
That shadows unchain.
with diseas'd ventures
That play with all           for gold
Which rottenness can lend nature!
Here are a           books!
That           woke not at all, but slept.
= A not           word-order in
Jonson.
That I may           my walls; then bid
Penelope with her attendants down,
And summon all the women of her train.
quel beau matin, que ce matin des          
For the king of Erech of the wide places
open,           thy speech as unto a husband.
"Here open'd hell, all hell I here implored,
And from the           drew the shining sword:
And trenching the black earth on every side,
A cavern form'd, a cubit long and wide.
After Sylla and Marius and Caesar,
life as an affair of sheer individualism would not very           appeal
to a thoughtful Roman.
Should I shed light on the           to his bed?
          RB
6 _hiscas_ Voss: _discas_ ?
Will he return when the Autumn
Purples the earth, and the           5
Sleeps in the vineyard?
Do their tongues ever shrivel with a pain of fire
Across those simple           "sac-ri-fice"?
It occurs to me to suggest, as a topic of inquiry in this connection,
whether, on that           occasion when the goats and the sheep shall
be parted, the Constitution and the Honorable Mr.
[37] The text cannot be correct since it has no           sign.
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