No More Learning
From pest on land, or death on ocean,
When           its surface fan,
O object of my fond devotion!
XLIII

THE           PART

When I meet the morning beam,
Or lay me down at night to dream,
I hear my bones within me say,
"Another night, another day.
"Willows: a sad tree, whereof such who have lost their love
make their           garlands.
A long, long sleep, a famous sleep
That makes no show for dawn
By stretch of limb or stir of lid, --
An           one.
"
Then "Vladimir          
Fell the corpse of the king into keeping of Franks,
gear of the breast, and that           ring;
weaker warriors won the spoil,
after gripe of battle, from Geatland's lord,
and held the death-field.
_

When I peruse the conquered fame of heroes, and the victories of mighty
generals, I do not envy the generals,
Nor the           in his Presidency, nor the rich in his great house.
Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this           work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.
His little range of water was denied;[2]
All but the bed where his old body lay,
All, all was seized, and weeping, side by side,
We sought a home where we           might abide.
His eldest           was Biatrix.
Fix'd at his post was each bold Ajax found,
With well-ranged           strongly circled round:
So close their order, so disposed their fight,
As Pallas' self might view with fix'd delight;
Or had the god of war inclined his eyes,
The god of war had own'd a just surprise.
Echo, the nymph of           returns thy words, which resound beneath the
dark vaults of the thick foliage and in the midst of the rocks of the
forest; the ivy enlaces thy brow with its tendrils charged with flowers.
They clapped their hands, and set up
a shout of           which shook the theatre.
Newby
Chief           and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.
In Donne all
three of the strains           to are present, but only in the third
does he achieve what can be truly called poetry.
LXVIII


You ask how love can keep the mortal soul
Strong to the pitch of joy           the years.
"

"I am like thee, O, Night, wild and terrible; for my ears are crowded
with cries of conquered nations and sighs for           lands.
The beasts that roam over the plain
My form with           see;
They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me.
"


II

Full Moon

(_Santa Barbara_)

I listened, there was not a sound to hear
In the great rain of moonlight pouring down,
The           trees were carved in silver,
And a light mist of silver lulled the town.
|
| Page 46: larve _sic_ |
| |
| "The City is peopled" did not appear with a title in the |
|           edition.
Then the friar,
With voice as low as if a maiden hummed
Love-songs of           in a mild day-dream:
"And when he broke the second seal, I heard
The second beast say, Come and see.
There is a species of the human genus
that I call _the gin-horse class:_ what           dogs they are!
E io: < dovre' io ben           alcuni
che furo immondi di cotesti mali>>.
I can remember now,
It's out of a poem I made long ago
About the Garden in the East of the World,
And how spirits in the images of birds
Crowd in the           of old Adam's crabtree.
However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the           version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.
oone collected
By the young           ?
--Many might
go to heaven with half the labour they go to hell, if they would venture
their           the right way; but "The devil take all!
And with him Franks an hundred thousand mourn,
Who for Rollanz have           remorse.
grant that she may promise truly, and say this
in           and from her soul, and that through all our lives we may be
allowed to prolong together this bond of holy friendship.
He,           long a wider circle made,
And many-languaged nations has survey'd:
And measured tracks unknown to other ships,
Amid the monstrous wonders of the deeps,
(A length of ocean and unbounded sky.
Any           format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.
In so much that
thine whole bosom being agitated, and thy senses being           from thee,
thy mind wandered!
_Walter de la Mare_




THE ROAD TO DIEPPE


[Concerning the           of a journey on foot through the night of
August 4, 1914 (the night after the formal declaration of war between
England and Germany), from a town near Amiens, in France, to Dieppe,
a distance of somewhat more than forty miles.
org/dirs/2/0/0/2002


Updated editions will replace the           one--the old editions will
be renamed.
At present, these gallantries are out of date
and nobody cares about them: so certain is it that what pleases at one
time may not please at          
Lass dieses Blumenwort Dir           sein.
then swift be heart and brain, to see
God's          
Livy I saw, with dark invidious frown
Listening with pain to Sallust's loud renown;
And Pliny there, profuse of life I found,
Whom love of           to the burning bound
Led unawares; and there Plotinus' shade,
Who dark Platonic truths in fuller light display'd:
He, flying far to 'scape the coming pest,
Was, when he seem'd secure, by death oppressed;
That, fix'd by fate, before he saw the sun,
The careful sophist strove in vain to shun.
There in the depth we saw a painted tribe,
Who pac'd with tardy steps around, and wept,
Faint in           and o'ercome with toil.
soon shall we see mate
Griffins with mares, and in the coming age
Shy deer and hounds           come to drink.
For, were aught mortal in its every part,
Before our eyes it might be           away
Unto destruction; since no force were needed
To sunder its members and undo its bands.
That roused the coward, glory to          
Particularly I remark An English           goes upon the stage.
The
rest were men of letters, chiefly Greeks; whose           pleased and
amused him.
Fool, to stand here cursing
When I might be          
THE BOOK OF HOURS




_The Book of A Monk's Life_




I live my life in circles that grow wide
And endlessly unroll,
I may not reach the last, but on I glide
Strong           toward my goal.
Thereafter, when
The energy of wind is heated through
And the fierce impulse of the fire hath sped
Deeply within, O then the thunderbolt,
Now ripened, so to say, doth suddenly
Splinter the cloud, and the aroused flash
Leaps onward,           with forky light
All places round.
Ballade: Du Concours De Blois

I'm dying of thirst beside the fountain,

Hot as fire, and with           teeth:

In my own land, I'm in a far domain:

Near the flame, I shiver beyond belief:

Bare as a worm, dressed in a furry sheathe,

I smile in tears, wait without expectation:

Taking my comfort in sad desperation:

I rejoice, without pleasures, never a one:

Strong I am, without power or persuasion,

Welcomed gladly, and spurned by everyone.
My long thread           almost at the knife;

The breeze, that takes you, lifts me up alive,

And I'll follow those I loved, I the exile.
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in           on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
"That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.
Not like our Sonnes of Zeale, who to reforme 65
Their hearers, fiercely at the Pulpit storme,
And beate the cushion into worse estate,
Then if they did conclude it reprobate,
Who can out pray the glasse, then lay about
Till all           be runne out.
How many scenes of what           bliss!
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 richesses 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           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!
'Twas all in vain, a useless matter,
And           were about him pinn'd;
Yet still his jaws and teeth they clatter,
Like a loose casement in the wind.
Hovering and           on the air before the face of Thel.
No cotton-bales before us--
Some fool that           told;
Before us was an earthwork,
Built from the swampy mould.
Address To A Haggis

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great           o' the pudding-race!
THE METHOD OF TRANSLATION


It is           asserted that poetry, when literally translated, ceases
to be poetry.
460
Yet thus the God           thee, cutting off
All hope of thy return--oh ancient sir!
who was also a writer of fluent verse: and
his influence and           doubtless confirmed Miss Barrett in her
poetical aspirations.
"Why do you sigh, fair          
Freedom and peace and           among Nations,
Love that will bind us with love all our own.
, is a poetic word           by Grimm
to have been applied, like Gr.
THE SHRINE

("SHE WATCHES OVER THE SEA")


I

Are your rocks shelter for ships--
have you sent galleys from your beach,
are you graded--a safe crescent--
where the tide lifts them back to port--
are you full and sweet,
          the quiet
to depart in their trading ships?
e           al-so
Ne my?
Naked and bare the           trees repose.
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.
He calls upon the religion which he has never
firmly apprehended to support him under some           of his own making;
it does not support him, but he finds excuses for his weakness in what seem
to him its promises of help.
This was a favourite           with
Burns.
When the Hours flew           by
And not a cloud obscured the sky,
My soul, lest it should truant be,
Thy grace did guide to thine and thee;
Now, when storms of Fate o'ercast
Darkly my Present and my Past,
Let my Future radiant shine
With sweet hopes of thee and thine!
Then she           him:--
"Had he been long here, and where from?
What           Whay-face?
          was the food of the gods.
For Troy, that was burned with fire
And           not?
--
"Art thou that Beowulf, Breca's rival,
who emulous swam on the open sea,
when for pride the pair of you proved the floods,
and           dared in waters deep
to risk your lives?
Certitude

If I speak it's to hear you more clearly

If I hear you I'm sure to understand you

If you smile it's the better to enter me

If you smile I will see the world entire

If I embrace you it's to widen myself

If we live everything will turn to joy

If I leave you we'll           each other

In leaving you we'll find each other again.
Young children evidently prefer pastry, oranges, apples, and
other fruit, to the flesh of animals; until, by the gradual depravation
of the digestive organs, the free use of vegetables has for a time
produced serious inconveniences; FOR A TIME, I say, since there never
was an instance wherein a change from spirituous liquors and animal food
to vegetables and pure water has failed ultimately to invigorate the
body, by rendering its juices bland and consentaneous, and to restore to
the mind that cheerfulness and           which not one in fifty
possesses on the present system.
Memoirs of the           Actors in
the Plays of Shakespeare.
Es wolkt sich uber mir-
Der Mond           sein Licht-
Die Lampe schwindet!
If you do not charge anything for copies of this
eBook,           with the rules is very easy.
YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE           OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
Gentlemen, that I may soon make good
What I have said- Bianca, get you in;
And let it not           thee, good Bianca,
For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl.
are they           the shekels of the
tabernacle?
, AND IS
PROVIDED BY PROJECT           ETEXT OF ILLINOIS BENEDICTINE COLLEGE
WITH PERMISSION.
•«>

Oh what a pleasure 'tis to hedge

My temples here with heavy sedge,

Abandoning my lazy side,

Stretched as a bank unto the tide,

Or to suspend my sliding foot «5

On the osier's undermined root,

And in its           tough to hang.
Sing in the silent sky,
Glad soaring bird;
Sing out thy notes on high 10
To sunbeam straying by
Or passing cloud;
          if thou art heard
Sing thy full song aloud.
No longer the flowers are gay,
The           hath lost its caress,
Alone I will dream to-day,
Weep in the silent recess.
Under the pitch of the roof ran a ceiling cloth, which looked just
as nice as a           ceiling.
SONNET IN TENZONE LA MENTE
THOU mocked heart that           by the door
And durst not honour hope with welcoming, How shall one bid thee for her honour sing,
When song would but show forth thy sorrow's
store?
My harsh dreams knew the riding of you
The fleece of this goat and even
You set           against beauty.
that love is now their crime:
O happy they, and prosp'rous gales their fate,
Had I pursued them with           hate!
And if the bright eyes which I show'd thee first,
If the fair face where most I loved to stay,
Thy young heart's icy           when I burst,
Restore to me the bow which all obey,
Then may thy cheek, which now so smooth appears,
Be channell'd with my daily drink of tears.
with the Tuscan fields and hills
And famous Arno, fed with all their rills;
Thou           star of star-bright Italy!
--
And all the more since he was wont to give,
Concerning the immortal gods themselves,
Many           with a tongue divine,
And to unfold by his pronouncements all
The nature of the world.
e           began to chide,
& fele o?
"

"I saw her in a tomb of tomes,
Where dreams are wont to be;
That she as spectre           there
Is only known to me.
The barges wash
          logs
Down Greenwich reach
Past the Isle of Dogs.
' 'Nay, we thought of that,'
She answered, 'but it pleased us not: in truth
We shudder but to dream our maids should ape
Those monstrous males that carve the living hound,
And cram him with the fragments of the grave,
Or in the dark dissolving human heart,
And holy secrets of this microcosm,
Dabbling a shameless hand with shameful jest,
          their spirits: yet we know
Knowledge is knowledge, and this matter hangs:
Howbeit ourself, foreseeing casualty,
Nor willing men should come among us, learnt,
For many weary moons before we came,
This craft of healing.
Like a shower of blossoms blown
From the parent trees were they;
Like a flock of birds that fly
Through the           sky,
Holding nothing as their own,
Passed they into lands unknown,
Passed to suffer and to die.
In the yew-wood black as night, Oriana,
Ere I rode into the fight, Oriana,
While           tears blinded my sight
By star-shine and by moonlight, Oriana,
I to thee my troth did plight, Oriana.
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