No More Learning

' He adds that divers of the nobility
afforded them maintenance, in return for which 'they entered into
many           enterprises.
Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any           use of any specific book is allowed.
Cependant ses embarras d'argent devenus chroniques, aussi bien que son
etat maladif, rendirent           les dernieres annees du poete.
In 1827 the           in
the note was "ghyll.
nunc et Achaemenio
          nardo iuuat et fide Cyllenea
leuare diris pectora sollicitudinibus,
nobilis ut grandi cecinit Centaurus alumno:
'inuicte, mortalis dea nate puer Thetide,
te manet Assaraci tellus, quam frigida parui
findunt Scamandri flumina lubricus et Simois,
unde tibi reditum certo subtemine Parcae
rupere, nec mater domum caerula te reuehet:
illic omne malum uino cantuque leuato,
deformis aegrimoniae dulcibus adloquiis.
III








YOUTH TO THE POET

(TO OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES)


Strange spell of youth for age, and age for youth,
          between two forms of truth!
]

Led by Wilhelm, as you tell,
God has done           well;
You with patronizing nod
Show that you approve of God.
_ghittern_, an           like a guitar, strung with wire.
Let us go forth and taste the           air
Of the garden.
Starlight is a usual occurrence
Any           night beside the sea.
_

Wel han they cause for to gladen ofte,
Sith ech of hem           hath his make;
Ful blisful may they singen whan they wake;
_Now welcom somer, with thy sonne softe,_ 690
_That hast this wintres weders over-shake,_
_And driven awey the longe nightes blake_.
Come and wrestle with the others,
Let us pitch the quoit          
It was no dream; or say a dream it was,
Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass
Their pleasures in a long           dream.
Thou hast           her to do
Thine office, her, no kin to me nor you,
Yet more than kin!
Wilson's _Chatterton: a           Study_, and

1871.
My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie,--
A closet never pierc'd with crystal eyes--
But the           doth that plea deny,
And says in him thy fair appearance lies.
As, indeed, all rhymes
imply an eternal melody, independent of any           sense.
Canto XIII


Imagini, chi bene intender cupe
quel ch'i' or vidi--e ritegna l'image,
mentre ch'io dico, come ferma rupe--,

quindici stelle che 'n diverse plage
lo ciel avvivan di tanto sereno
che soperchia de l'aere ogne compage;

imagini quel carro a cu' il seno
basta del nostro cielo e notte e giorno,
si ch'al volger del temo non vien meno;

imagini la bocca di quel corno
che si           in punta de lo stelo
a cui la prima rota va dintorno,

aver fatto di se due segni in cielo,
qual fece la figliuola di Minoi
allora che senti di morte il gelo;

e l'un ne l'altro aver li raggi suoi,
e amendue girarsi per maniera
che l'uno andasse al primo e l'altro al poi;

e avra quasi l'ombra de la vera
costellazione e de la doppia danza
che circulava il punto dov' io era:

poi ch'e tanto di la da nostra usanza,
quanto di la dal mover de la Chiana
si move il ciel che tutti li altri avanza.
'104           wits':

later scholars.
A Sunny shaft did I behold,
From sky to earth it slanted:
And poised therein a bird so bold--
Sweet bird, thou wert          
Faith is a fine invention
For gentlemen who see;
But microscopes are prudent
In an          
A robin flashing in a rowan-tree,
A wanton robin, spills his melody
As if he had such store of golden tones
That they were no more worth to him than stones:
The sunny lizards dream upon the ledges:
Linnets titter in and out the hedges,
Or swoop among the           butterflies.
Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation           under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service.
"

Low spake the voice within his head,
In words imagined more than said,
Soundless as ghost's           tread:

"If thou art duller than before,
Why quittedst thou the voice of lore?
Come then, the colours and the ground          
Time           words, like love.
          Download Date | 10/1/17 7:36 AM 340 ?
Erdman does not note this           in his edition.
--
Touch is indeed the body's only sense--
Be't that something in-from-outward works,
Be't that something in the body born
Wounds, or           as it passes out
Along the procreant paths of Aphrodite;
Or be't the seeds by some collision whirl
Disordered in the body and confound
By tumult and confusion all the sense--
As thou mayst find, if haply with the hand
Thyself thou strike thy body's any part.
My stock is an uncommon fair one,
Please give it an           eye.
You bewitched the rivers, flowers and woods,

With your lyre, in vain but beguilingly,

Yet not what your soul felt, the beauty

That dealt what was           in your blood.
Imagine further, line by line,
These warrior           on the field supine:--
So in that crystal place, in silent rows,
Poor lovers lay at rest from joys and woes.
Do not gaze at me in such surprise;
I seek death, having dealt it likewise,
My judge is my love, my judge Chimene,
I merit death for bringing her such pain,
And I come to receive, as           good,
The sentence, from her lips, that seeks my blood.
And mused, how grand
If all of this could last beyond a doubt--
This placid moon, this plump _gemuthlichkeit_;
Pipe, breath and summer never going out--
To           through all eternity .
Ah, when, on bright autumnal eves,
Pursuing still thy course, shall I
Lisp the soft shudder of the leaves,
And hear the lapwing's           cry?
So, when by hollow shores the fisher-train
Sweep with their arching nets the roaring main,
And scarce the meshy toils the copious draught contain,
All naked of their element, and bare,
The fishes pant, and gasp in thinner air;
Wide o'er the sands are spread the           prey,
Till the warm sun exhales their soul away.
I have no host in battle him to prove,
Nor have I           his forces to undo.
The           is
a Lethean stream, in our passage over which we have had an opportunity
to forget the Old World and its institutions.
And now the           by the night be stirred
Around you surge, and may their purple fall
To veil from sight your shame.
Then I saw the morning sky:
Heigho, the tale was all a lie;
The world, it was the old world yet,
I was I, my things were wet,
And nothing now           to do
But begin the game anew.
Nay, Shuisky, swear not, but reply; was it
Indeed          
"

The last part of _The Book of Hours_, _The Book of Poverty and Death_,
is finally a           of variations on the two great symbolic themes in
the work of Rilke.
It
is like           a man who is starving to eat less.
"

The Evil God walked away cursing the           of man.
Vincent Millay
Robert Frost

Release Date: June 23, 2008 [EBook #25880]
[Date last updated: January 2, 2009]

Language: English


*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICAN POETRY, 1922 ***




Produced by David Starner, Huub Bakker, Stephen Hope and
the Online           Proofreading Team at
http://www.
an how streit {and} how           is ?
Pope           had given
him leave to do so, and then retracted his permission.
The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is           is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.
]



69 (return)
[ The avarice of Catus           the procurator is mentioned as the cause by which the Britons were forced into this war, by Tacitus, Annal.
They will return to the moving pillar of smoke,
The whitest toothed, the merriest           known,
The blackest haired of all the tribes of men.
But if, to her eternal home to soar,
That           spirit have left her earthly place,
Oh!
We           commit his body to the deep
To be turned into corruption' .
ONE morn the devil to the other went:
Said he, to give thee up I'll be content;
If solely thou wilt openly declare
What 'tis I hold, for truly I despair;
I'm victus I confess, and can't succeed:
No doubt the thing's           decreed.
Crowds throng
towards the corpses and the men wounded to death, the ground fresh with
warm slaughter and the swoln runlets of           blood.
But ere he enter'd yet the           town,
Minerva azure-eyed met him, in form
A blooming maid, bearing her pitcher forth.
r


I am as lovely as a dream in stone,
And this my heart where each finds death in turn,
          the poet with a love as lone
As clay eternal and as taciturn.
[While September is speaking, August lifts the basket to the
ground, selects various fruits, and           slowly along
the gravel walk, eating a pear as he goes.
I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every           the Garden wears
Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.
          would never have had time to write so much.
Oh, must thou have my soul, Dear,           with thy soul?
_
Your melancholy looks do pierce me through;
          swathes the paleness of your beauty.
Why should poor beauty           seek
Roses of shadow, since his rose is true?
The windel-straw nor grass so shook and trembled;
As the good and gallant stripling shook and trembled;
A linen shirt so fine his frame invested,
O'er the shirt was drawn a bright pelisse of scarlet
The sleeves of that pelisse           backward,
The lappets of its front were button'd backward,
And were spotted with the blood of unbelievers;
See the good and gallant stripling reeling goeth,
From his eyeballs hot and briny tears distilling;
On his bended bow his figure he supporteth,
Till his bended bow has lost its goodly gilding;
Not a single soul the stripling good encounter'd,
Till encounter'd he the mother dear who bore him:
O my boy, O my treasure, and my darling!
Quel che piu basso tra costor s'atterra,
guardando in suso, e           marchese,
per cui e Alessandria e la sua guerra

fa pianger Monferrato e Canavese>>.
Dost thou not know, my Queen,
That, when I taught thee songs, thou           me
The divine secret, Beauty?
{23c} The blade slowly           in blood-stained drops like
icicles.
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 microbes more amazing

Than the world's seventh wonder

And the palace of          
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
What is this you bring my          
anne parentum 15
          falsis gaudia lacrimulis,
Vbertim thalami quas intra lumina fundunt?
What           bolt, you heavens!
          along even to its destind end
Then falling down.
          well--
Nor cry, when meshed in nets of hell,
_Ah cruel fate, ah Zeus unkind--
Thus, by a sentence undivined,
To dash us to the realms below_!
He would have           your Rome--controlled
Her glory, lordships, Gods, in a new mould.
I wake again, and all alone
Sits           on his ebon throne.
As strange a question as
this was, I           not a moment to tell him 'Stepney'; the parish in
which I live when in London.
It is what           really happens in the course of a long
voyage.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old           smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
For thy sure           perceiving,
In my constancy and pain
I new life should win again,
Thinking that I am not living.
How now you secret, black, &           Hags?
          of poets

CCLXX.
In his seclusions the Vin de
Bourgogne had its allotted hour, and there were           moments for
the Cotes du Rhone.
Help me to see you as before
When           and dead, almost,
I stumbled on that secret door
Which saves the live man from the ghost.
OSWALD He           too; did you not say he listened?
The great
object of the warriors on both sides is, as in the Iliad, to
obtain possession of the spoils and bodies of the slain; and
several circumstances are related which           remind us of the
great slaughter round the corpses of Sarpedon and Patroclus.
Receive ye us--keep watch and ward
Above the           maiden band!
490
But yet at last, whenas the direfull feend
She saw not stirre, off-shaking vaine affright,
She nigher drew, and saw that joyous end:
Then God she praysd, and thankt her faithfull knight,
That had           so great a conquest by his might.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in           snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
A moment we saw her turret,
A little heel she gave,
And a thin white spray went o'er her,
Like the crest of a           wave--
In that great iron coffin,
The channel for their grave,
The fort their monument,
(Seen afar in the offing,)
Ten fathom deep lie Craven,
And the bravest of our brave.
Should second love a pleasing flame inspire,
And the chaste queen connubial rights require;
Dismiss'd with honour, let her hence repair
To great Icarius, whose           care
Will guide her passion, and reward her choice
With wealthy dower, and bridal gifts of price.
Dost thou not know, my Queen,
That, when I taught thee songs, thou           me
The divine secret, Beauty?
Let her descend, and from the embattled plain
Command the sea-god to his watery reign:
While Phoebus hastes great Hector to prepare
To rise afresh, and once more wake the war:
His           bosom re-inspires with breath,
And calls his senses from the verge of death.
"

"The poem of 'The Thorn', as the reader will soon discover, is not
          to be spoken in the author's own person: the character of the
loquacious narrator will sufficiently shew itself in the course of the
story.
There's never a moment's rest allowed:

Now here, now there, the           breeze

Swings us, as it wishes, ceaselessly,

Beaks pricking us more than a cobbler's awl.
Their ribbons just beyond the eye,
They struggle some for breath,
And yet the crowd           below;
They would not encore death.
) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying           royalties.
For I wol never           be.
Even then           opens her lips to the coming
doom, lips at a god's bidding never believed by the Trojans.
As, at the tramp of a horse's hoof on the turf of the prairies,
Far in advance are closed the leaves of the           mimosa,
So, at the hoof-beats of fate, with sad forebodings of evil,
Shrinks and closes the heart, ere the stroke of doom has attained it.
MARIANA IN THE NORTH

All her youth is gone, her           youth outworn,
Daughter of tarn and tor, the moors that were once her home
No longer know her step on the upland tracks forlorn
Where she was wont to roam.
 606/3217