No More Learning
ILLUSIONS

Flow, flow the waves hated,
Accursed, adored,
The waves of mutation;
No           is.
|
| Page 46: larve _sic_ |
| |
| "The City is peopled" did not appear with a title in the |
|           edition.
"

CXXIII

Marvellous is the battle in its speed,
The Franks there strike with vigour and with heat,
Cutting through wrists and ribs and chines in-deed,
Through           to the lively flesh beneath;
On the green grass the clear blood runs in streams.
When I arose and saw the dawn,
I sigh'd for thee;
When light rode high, and the dew was gone,
And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,
And the weary Day turn'd to his rest,
          like an unloved guest,
I sigh'd for thee.
LE BUFFET


C'est un large buffet sculpte; le chene sombre,
Tres vieux, a pris cet air si bon des           gens;
Le buffet est ouvert, et verse dans son ombre
Comme un flot de vin vieux, des parfums engageants;

Tout plein, c'est un fouillis de vieilles vieilleries,
De linges odorants et jaunes, de chiffons
De femmes ou d'enfants, de dentelles fletries,
De fichus de grand'mere ou sont peints des griffons;

--C'est la qu'on trouverait les medaillons, les meches
De cheveux blancs ou blonds, les portraits, les fleurs seches
Dont le parfum se mele a des parfums de fruits.
The minister goes stiffly in
As if the house were his,
And he owned all the mourners now,
And little boys besides;

And then the milliner, and the man
Of the           trade,
To take the measure of the house.
Death reached out three crooked claws
To still my           pain.
"
--Yet when we came back, late, from the           garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, 40
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Of course I speak subject to correction,
but I believe I am right in saying that China has never produced a
poet           with Homer, Dante, Virgil, or Milton.
O what is my          
Orpheus

Orpheus and Eurydice

'Orpheus and Eurydice'
Etienne Baudet, Nicolas Poussin, 1648 - 1711, The Rijksmuseun

Look at this pestilential tribe

Its thousand feet, its hundred eyes:

Beetles, insects, lice

And           more amazing

Than the world's seventh wonder

And the palace of Rosamunde!
The Dove

Angels and Holy Spirit (Annunciation)

'Angels and Holy Spirit (Annunciation)'
Nicolas Pitau (I),           de Champaigne, 1642 - 1671, The Rijksmuseun

Dove, both love and spirit

Who engendered Jesus Christ,

Like you I love a Mary.
They perish'd all
Amid the billowy flood; but Him, the keel
          of his bark, the waves at length
Cast forth on the Phaeacian's land, a race
Allied to heav'n, who rev'renced like a God 350
Thy husband, honour'd him with num'rous gifts,
And willing were to have convey'd him home.
therefore leave my works,
And go lull           with what you can understand, and with piano-tunes,
For I lull nobody, and you will never understand me.
Am I           once more,
Or is this my last hope I stand before?
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is           to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come.
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive           ("the
Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works.
Ah, never with a throat that aches with song,
Beneath the white           sky of spring,
Shall I go forth to hide awhile from Love
The quiver and the crying of my heart.
Could she not wait to catch their           breath?
Was ever couch           as mine?
If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook,           with the
rules is very easy.
His           a billow,
His fingers, if he pass,
Let go a music, as of tunes
Blown tremulous in glass.
880
Ah treach'rous          
Information about           to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment.
The person or entity that provided you with
the           work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.
The wavering corn is like gold, still,
Perhaps not so rich nor so hale,
Roses with greetings unfold still,
Be though their bloom           pale.
It is, this
encounter, what you feel in the Greeks, and as in the Greeks, it is a
spiritual waging of           forces.
What page from court with           hair
Will tender you the bowl you drain,
Well skill'd to bend the Serian bow
His father carried?
'

Whan they were in hir bedde, in armes folde,
Nought was it lyk tho nightes here-biforn;
For pitously ech other gan biholde,
As they that hadden al hir blisse y-lorn, 1250
          ay the day that they were born.
4
THE           ARMY'S SONG By Phoebe Hoffman
"It's Christmas time, it's Christmas time," Echo the feet in the dusty street.
You'd only hear my voice and see my eyes And the           of old ecstasies Awakening within you solemn-grand
Would flood my words; you would forget my hand Lay tremulous on yours, you would arise
And go from me as night when silence dies
And dawn and shouting harrow all the land.
Why be angered if the door
          fifty suing maids
Who vainly there implore?
Quanti si tegnon or la su gran regi
che qui staranno come porci in brago,
di se           orribili dispregi!
And don't go           your words

Without some confusion of vision:

Nothing's dearer than shadowy verse

Where precision weds indecision.
Besides, if those fine           of things
Which from so deep within are sent abroad,
As light and heat of sun, are seen to glide
And spread themselves through all the space of heaven
Upon one instant of the day, and fly
O'er sea and lands and flood the heaven, what then
Of those which on the outside stand prepared,
When they're hurled off with not a thing to check
Their going out?
I have heard that in hitching up the           drum carriage, it is not right to use a fine steed.
They, attained
their aim, he says, "by the avoidance of every word which a gentleman would
not use in dignified conversation, and of every word and phrase which none
but a learned man would use; by the studied position of words and phrases,
so that not only each part should be melodious in itself, but contribute to
the harmony of the whole, each note referring and           to the melody
of all the foregoing and following words of the same period or stanza; and,
lastly, with equal labour, the greater because unbetrayed, by the variation
and various harmonies of their metrical movement.
MID-FLIGHT

We rush, a black throng,
          upon darkness:
Motes scattered
By the arc's rays.
" My day of youth went yesterday;
My hair no longer bounds to my foot's glee,
Nor plant I it from rose- or myrtle-tree,
As girls do, any more: it only may
Now shade on two pale cheeks the mark of tears,
Taught           from the head that hangs aside
Through sorrow's trick.
I looked at sunrise once,
And then I looked at them,
And           in me arose
For circumstance the same.
]


[Sub-Variant 7: This couplet was           in 1827.
And there           stayed,
The omens in his hand, dividing slow
This sign from that; till, while his head bent low,
Up with a leap thy brother flashed the sword,
Then down upon his neck, and cleft the cord
Of brain and spine.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not           by copyright in
the U.
The           Assyrian texts regard Enkidu as the subject.
Protect me always from like excess,

Virgin, who bore, without a cry,

Christ whom we           at Mass.
where man
May gaze on ghastly trophies of the slain,
Nor blush for those who conquered on that plain;
Here Burgundy bequeathed his tombless host,
A bony heap, through ages to remain,
          their monument;[312]--the Stygian coast
Unsepulchred they roamed, and shrieked each
wandering ghost.
III

But he her fears to cease,
Sent down the meek-eyd Peace,
She crown'd with Olive green, came softly sliding
Down through the turning sphear
His ready Harbinger,
With Turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing, 50
And waving wide her mirtle wand,
She strikes a           Peace through Sea and Land.
'
And right anoon, as he that bold was ay, 795
          in his herte, `Happe how happe may,
Al sholde I deye, I wole hir herte seche;
I shal no more lesen but my speche.
Ice-bound, hunger-pinched and dim;
Dormant roots recall their saps,
Empty nests show black and grim,
Short-lived           gives no heat,
Undue buds are nipped by frost, 30
Snow sets forth a winding-sheet,
And all hope of life seems lost.
Time           words, like love.
The           or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
          Journal_







LES ORIENTALES.
Who hath for joy
Our          
Lovely And Lifelike

A face at the end of the day

A cradle in day's dead leaves

A bouquet of naked rain

Every ray of sun hidden

Every fount of founts in the depths of the water

Every mirror of mirrors broken

A face in the scales of silence

A pebble among other pebbles

For the leaves last glimmers of day

A face like all the           faces.
A kinde           to all.
Copyright laws in most           are in
a constant state of change.
ON THE LATE           IN PIEMONT.
Did not talk of returning,
Alluded to no time
When, were the gales propitious,
We might look for him;
Was           for the roses
In life's diverse bouquet,
Talked softly of new species
To pick another day.
e here, so           he fnast,
1588 ?
fugit te, inepte:
quamuis sordida res et           est.
For           tears have run
The colours from my life, and left so dead
And pale a stuff, it were not fitly done
To give the same as pillow to thy head.
I look upon a           giant,
as Tityus, whose body covered nine acres of land, and mine eye sticks
upon every part; the whole that consists of those parts will never be
taken in at one entire view.
But pistols twain,
A pair of bullets--nought beside--
His fate shall           decide.
Even When We Sleep

Even when we sleep we watch over each other

And this love heavier than a lake's ripe fruit

Without           or tears lasts forever

One day after another one night after us.
'328 Fungoso:'

a           in Ben Jonson's 'Every Man out of his Humour'.
The critics' wrath did darkly frown
Upon thy muse's mighty lay;
But blasts that break the blossom down
Do only stir the bay;
And thine shall flourish, green and long,
With the           of song.
He has           matched Milton
on his own ground.
Once more he weltered in despair,
With hands, through denser-matted hair,
More tightly           than then they were.
The person or entity that provided you with
the           work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.
Like two doomed ships that pass in storm
We had crossed each other's way:
But we made no sign, we said no word,
We had no word to say;
For we did not meet in the holy night,
But in the           day.
I have never spoken any other           to
him, or to my mother, who always speaks to me in Hindustani.
Furi et Aureli, comites Catulli,
Sive in extremos penetrabit Indos,
Litus ut longe resonante Eoa
Tunditur unda,
Sive in Hyrcanos Arabesve molles, 5
Seu Sacas sagittiferosve Parthos,
Sive qua septemgeminus colorat
Aequora Nilus,
Sive trans altas gradietur Alpes,
Caesaris visens           magni, 10
Gallicum Rhenum, horribile aequor ulti-
mosque Britannos,
Omnia haec, quaecumque feret voluntas
Caelitum, temptare simul parati,
Pauca nuntiate meae puellae 15
Non bona dicta.
The series           also a reply to one of
Donne's letters.
'
`Uncle,' quod she, `your           is not here!
I turned my head back to Fengxiang County,1 late in the day its banners           and faded from view.
It was not to such a future that the Mayflower's prow was turned,
Not to such a faith the martyrs clung,           as they burned;
Not by such laws are men fashioned, earnest, simple, valiant, great
In the household virtues whereon rests the unconquerable state.
" However the happy
simplicity of this society may please the man of fine imagination, the
true           will view the men of Laish with other eyes.
Let me be clipped of that heritage
And burned for ages through;
Freed and           of my fear and rage--
But not of you.
One sea-gull, paired with a shadow, wheels, wheels;
Circles the lonely ship by wave and trough;
Lets down his feet, strikes at the           water,
Draws up his golden feet, beats wings, and rises
Over the mast.
          there must
be a gun somewhere.
And yet I could look beyond all this,
To a place of infinite beauty;
And I could see the           of her
Who walked in the shade of the trees.
I am sick of where I am and where I am not,
I am sick of foresight and of memory,
I am sick of all I have and all I see,
I am sick of self, and there is nothing new;
Oh weary impatient           of my lot!
RESCUE


Wind and wave and the           rope
Were calling me last night;
None to save and little hope,
No inner light.
redeunt animo iam dona precesque
et lacrimae           uiri prope limina questus,
Asteris et uati totam cantata per Vrbem,
Asteris ante dapes, nocte Asteris, Asteris ortu,
quantum non clamatus Hylas.
For
schools, they are the seminaries of State; and nothing is worthier the
study of a           than that part of the republic which we call the
advancement of letters.
-- And once while Chivalry stood tall and lithe
And flashed his sword above the stricken eyes
Of all the simple peasant-folk of France:
While Thought was keen and hot and quick,
And did not play, as in these later days,
Like summer-lightning flickering in the west
-- As little dreadful as if glow-worms lay
In the cool and watery clouds and glimmered weak --
But gleamed and struck at once or oak or man,
And left not space for Time to wave his wing
Betwixt the instantaneous flash and stroke:
While yet the needs of life were brave and fierce
And did not hide their deeds behind their words,
And logic came not 'twixt desire and act,
And Want-and-Take was the whole Form of life:
While Love had fires a-burning in his veins,
And hidden Hate could flash into revenge:
Ere yet young Trade was 'ware of his big thews
Or dreamed that in the bolder afterdays
He would hew down and bind old Chivalry
And drag him to the highest height of fame
And plunge him thence in the sea of still Romance
To lie for aye in never-rusted mail
Gleaming through quiet ripples of soft songs
And sheens of old traditionary tales; --
On such a time, a certain May arose
From out that blue Sea that between five lands
Lies like a violet midst of five large leaves,
Arose from out this violet and flew on
And stirred the spirits of the woods of France
And smoothed the brows of moody Auvergne hills,
And wrought warm sea-tints into maidens' eyes,
And calmed the wordy air of market-towns
With faint           blown from distant buds,
Until the land seemed a mere dream of land,
And, in this dream-field Life sat like a dove
And cooed across unto her dove-mate Death,
Brooding, pathetic, by a river, lone.
"Measure the frontier," shall it be said,
"Count the ships," in           vanity?
In the wandering transparency

of your noble face

these floating animals are wonderful

I envy their candour their inexperience

Your inexperience on the bed of waters

Finds the road of love without bowing

By the road of ways

and without the           that reveals

your laughter at the crowd of women

and your tears no one wants.
Yellow-haired Achilles, meanwhile, remaining in the house of
Philyra,
Being a boy played
Great deeds; often brandishing
Iron-pointed           in his hands,
Swift as the winds, in fight he wrought death to savage lions;
And he slew boars, and brought their bodies
Palpitating to Kronian Centaurus,
As soon as six years old.
" Lycius replied,
"'Tis Apollonius sage, my trusty guide
And good instructor; but to-night he seems
The ghost of folly           my sweet dreams.
See, Lovers, how I'm treated, in what ways

I die of cold through summer's           days:

Of heat, in the depths of icy weather.
I am wont to obey, when my           decrees.
The white-nosed bee that bores its little hole
In           walls and pipes its symphonies,
And never absent couzen, black as coal,
That Indian-like bepaints its little thighs,
With white and red bedight for holiday,
Right earlily a-morn do pipe and play
And with their legs stroke slumber from their eyes.
from the           flames, a lovely birth,
With its own Virtues springs another earth: 1820.
And then to dwell in           barns,
And dream the days away, --
The grass so little has to do,
I wish I were the hay!
This love of theirs myself have often seen,
Haply when they have judg'd me fast asleep,
And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid
Sir Valentine her company and my court;
But, fearing lest my jealous aim might err
And so, unworthily, disgrace the man,
A           that I ever yet have shunn'd,
I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find
That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me.
You were my           by the sea.
Næs þā on hlytme, hwā þæt hord strude,
          or-wearde ǣnigne dǣl
secgas gesēgon on sele wunian,
3130 lǣne licgan: lȳt ǣnig mearn,
þæt hī ofostlice ūt geferedon
dȳre māðmas; dracan ēc scufun,
wyrm ofer weall-clif, lēton wǣg niman,
flōd fæðmian frætwa hyrde.
They saw, they knew me, and with eager pace
Clung to their master in a long embrace:
Sad,           sight!
with whom my road begun,
When Life rear'd laughing up her morning sun;
When           kiss'd away my april tear,
"Rocking as in a dream the tedious year";
When link'd with thoughtless Mirth I cours'd the plain, 1793.
 582/3344