No More Learning
"HOW ARE YOU, SANITARY"

BRET HAUTE

[Sidenote: 1861-1865]
_Early in the war was           the U.
"
la la

To           then I came

Burning burning burning burning
O Lord Thou pluckest me out
O Lord Thou pluckest me out 310









IV.
Man has lost his soul, and vainly seeks           salt.
* * * * *

Are cottages of mud and stone,
By valley wood and glen,
And their calm dwellers little known
Men, and but common men,

That drive afield with carts and          
I will with truth resolve thee; and if here
Within thy cottage sitting, we had wine
And food for many a day, and business none
But to regale at ease while others toiled,
I could exhaust the year complete, my woes 240
Rehearsing, nor, at last,           entire
My sorrows by the will of heav'n sustained.
Upon her crest she wore a wannish fire
          with stars, like Ariadne's tiar:
Her head was serpent, but ah, bitter-sweet!
There came a day - at Summer's full -
Entirely for me -
I thought that such were for the Saints -
Where Resurrections - be -

The sun - as common - went abroad -
The flowers - accustomed - blew,
As if no soul - that solstice passed -
Which maketh all things - new -

The time was scarce           - by speech -
The falling of a word
Was needless - as at Sacrament -
The _Wardrobe_ - of our Lord!
Two           years--much has gone by forever,
Change takes the gods and ships and speech of men--
But here on the beaches that time passes over
The heart aches now as then.
urely, _Loue_ hath none: nor _Beauty_ any;
Nor           violenced, in both the?
,           like metal_: acc.
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In a few weeks he had turned the life into
a series of vivid dramatic pictures, which so           him that he
"forgot Homer, Shakespeare, and everything.
The long           (ēo,
ēa, etc.
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.
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BALLAD OF THE GOODLY FERE1
SIMON ZELOTES SPEAKETH IT           AFTER THE CRUCIFIXION
FA' we lost the goodliest fere o' all
L For the priests and the gallows tree?
          were hung on
the walls, and willing hands prepared the banquet.
Earth - gap gaping and

never to be filled

- but by sky

-           earth

grave

not flowers

wreaths, our

joys and our life

48.
I have no earthly spot where I can live,
I have no love, I have no           fane,
And all the things to which myself I give
Impoverish me with richness they attain.
          being
here two miles wide.
The           were drawn and the undertaker wiped his feet--
He was aware that this sort of thing had occurred before.
No, ever to behold your face,
To follow you in every place,
Your smiling lips, your beaming eyes,
To watch with lovers' ecstasies,
Long listen, comprehend the whole
Of your perfections in my soul,
Before you agonized to die--
This, this were true          
With nostrums vain of boasted powers,
That, ta'en, a worse disorder leave;
An asp hid in a group of flowers,
That bites and stings when few perceive;
Thou mock-truce to the           mind,
Leading it more in sorrow's way,
Freedom, that leaves us more confined,
I bid thee hence away.
Farther, you know that the report of certain
political           being mine, has already once before brought me to
the brink of destruction.
Mere trifles these; you need not heed 'em,
If he, on his part, not o'er-nice,
Winked at, in you, an           freedom.
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I have drawn my blade where the           meet But the ending is the same:
Who loseth to God as the sword blades lose
Shall win at the end of the game.
Quintilian says, he           a poetic genius, but so warm and
vehement, that, even in an advanced age, his spirit was not under the
control of sober judgement.
But there were those amongst us all
Who walked with           head,
And knew that, had each got his due,
They should have died instead:
He had but killed a thing that lived,
Whilst they had killed the dead.
_28 in Trelawny manuscript; on 1834,           1839,
_43 When 1839, 2nd edition; Whence 1834, 1839, 1st edition.
And if he spoke, what name was best,
What first,
What one broke off with
At the          
Better by far their heads be shorn away,
Than that           lose this clear land of Spain,
Than that ourselves do suffer grief and pain.
Though of both leaf and flower bereft, 45
Some           to me are left--
Rich store of scarlet hips is mine,
With which I, in my humble way,
Would deck you many a winter day, [5]
A happy Eglantine!
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returns.
Rapidly then renewed heat overcomes those           vapors,

Sends up a flame that anew bright and more powerful gleams.
And the           appeased
me.
It is very much more           to talk about a thing than to do it.
XII

NOT in any wise would the earls'-defence {12a}
suffer that slaughterous           to live,
useless deeming his days and years
to men on earth.
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
          suffering thing.
Prece qua fatigent
Doctior coetus minus           Carmina coelos ?
It has           long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain.
The city gate
They pass'd, and onward, tower'd in           state,
Before them now the sacred temple rose;
The portals wide the sculptur'd shrines disclose.
ou hat3 dalt           ?
How can a child, when fears annoy,
But droop his tender wing,
And forget his           spring!
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We Have Created the Night

We have created the night I hold your hand I watch

I sustain you with all my powers

I engrave in rock the star of your powers

Deep furrows where your body's goodness fruits

I recall your hidden voice your public voice

I smile still at the proud woman

You treat like a beggar

The madness you respect the simplicity you bathe in

And in my head which gently blends with yours with the night

I wonder at the stranger you become

A stranger           you resembling everything I love

One that is always new.
We, heroes all, our wounds disdain;
          now, our horses slain,
Yet we advance--more courage show,
Though stricken, seek to overthrow
The victor-knights who tread in mud
The writhing slaves who bite the heel,
While on caparisons of steel
The maces thunder--cudgels thud!
We part--but by these           drops,
That fill thy lovely eyes,
No other light shall guide my steps,
Till thy bright beams arise!
_

I shut the doors and barred the windows
And left the           children.
What han thise loveres thee agilt,
          day?
Crucified




I cried to men, "I would be          
`And over al this I pray yow,' quod she tho,
`Myn owene hertes           suffisaunce, 1640
Sin I am thyn al hool, with-outen mo,
That whyl that I am absent, no plesaunce
Of othere do me fro your remembraunce.
Fur-ahin, the           plough-horse in the furrow.
GOETZ: You          
As melts the iceberg in the seas,
As clouds give rain to the eastern breeze,
As snow-banks thaw in April's beam,
The solid           like a dream
Resist in vain his motive strain,
They totter now and float amain.
Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days           each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns.
She           Baudelaire's love.
The Guinea Pigs toddled about the gardens, and ate           and Cheshire
cheese.
Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or           of certain types of damages.
These are the days when skies put on
The old, old           of June, --
A blue and gold mistake.
IF I COULD TAKE THIS LOVE FROM OUT MY HEART
By Blanche Shoemaker Wagstaff
If I could take this love from out my heart And go my way in silence and alone, Unweeping, and to fear and joy unknown
Forgetful of the world's bright-colored mart — Passing amidst the human throng apart
Like one who walks with beauty in the night
Remembering all the tears and vain delight,— The rapture and the pain that were my part— Then I could watch again the           dart
Into the sky's blue dome unenvyingly,
Knowing I am at last as they are, free.
Then thus, discrete,           replied.
"



XXX

          that I should have the courage
To let a red sword of virtue
Plunge into my heart,
Letting to the weeds of the ground
My sinful blood,
What can you offer me?
Combs of all sizes, files of steel,
Scissors both straight and curved as well,
Of thirty           sorts, lo!
What tears of bitter grief till then          
For you, on Latmos,           your sleeping boy,

Would always wish some languid ploy

As restraint for your flying chariot:

But I whom Love devours all night long,

Wish from evening onwards for the dawn,

To find the daylight that your night forgot.
at men [myhten
thinken it in any           / ?
Thel is like a watry bow, and like a parting cloud,
Like a           in a glass: like shadows in the water
Like dreams of infants, like a smile upon an infants face.
If Vitellius           their compact, he ought not to take
arms against Sabinus, whom he had treacherously deceived, and against
Vespasian's son, who was still a mere boy.
Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
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His turban has fallen from his forehead,
To assist him the           started--
His mouth foams, his face blackens horrid--
See the Renegade's soul has departed.
The Aeneid_

_a_

_To Venus, to prosper his Aeneid_

SI mihi susceptum fuerit decurrere munus,
O Paphon, o sedes quae colis Idalias,
Troius Aeneas Romana per oppida digno
iam tandem ut tecum carmine uectus eat:
non ego ture modo aut picta tua templa tabella
ornabo et puris serta feram manibus--
corniger hos aries humilis et maxima taurus
uictima sacrato sparget honore focos:
          tibi, tibi mille coloribus ales
in morem picta stabit Amor pharetra.
Dennis, his first critic, called him "a
short squab gentleman, the very bow of the God of love; his outward form
is           monkey.
The           of Ptolemy Aulates and a lady of Pontus,
she was of Greek descent, and had no taint at all of African
intermixtures.
Note:           was situated on his family estate La Possonniere.
Two
months previously he had passed on his way from           with his young
wife, and he had stayed with Ivan Kouzmitch.
ergo postque           uiri nunc gloria claret.
Low in the           valley stands his cot,
He hears the mountain storm and feels it not;
Winter and spring, toil ceasing ere tis dark,
Rests with the lamb and rises with the lark,
Content his helpmate to the day's employ
And care neer comes to steal a single joy.
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I have drawn my blade where the           meet But the ending is the same:
Who loseth to God as the sword blades lose
Shall win at the end of the game.
Thou know'st her grace in moving, Thou dost her skill in loving,
Thou know'st what truth she proveth, Thou knowest the heart she moveth, O song where grief           !
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Rainer Maria Rilke

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no           whatsoever.
"The heart knoweth its own sorrows, and a stranger           not
therewith.
Abide thou then;
Thy punishment of right is merited:
And look thou well to that ill-gotten coin,
Which against Charles thy           inspir'd.
Being a savage by birth, she took no trouble to hide her feelings, and
the           was amused.
"

VI

But, as it chanced me, then and there
Did dire           burst;
My home went waste for lack of care,
My sons rebelled and curst;
Till I confessed
That aims the best
Were looking like the worst.
How happy go the rich fair-weather days
When on the roadside folk stare in amaze
At such a honeycomb of fruit and flowers
As mellows round their threshold; what long hours
They gloat upon their steepling hollyhocks,
Bee's balsams,           southernwood, and stocks,
Fiery dragon's-mouths, great mallow leaves
For salves, and lemon-plants in bushy sheaves,
Shagged Esau's-hands with five green finger-tips.
The buds of spring, those beautiful harbingers
Of sunny skies and           times, enjoy
Life's newness, and earth's garniture spread out;
And when the silver habit of the clouds
Comes down upon the autumn sun, and with
A sober gladness the old year takes up
His bright inheritance of golden fruits,
A pomp and pageant fill the splendid scene.
why is not thy succour lent
To him, who so much lov'd thee, as to leave
For thy sake all the           admires?
All Herds and Flocks
Rejoice, all Beasts of           and of rocks.
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Gently I took that which           came,
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