No More Learning
And since of the crimes of the cruel I tell, let my singing record
The bitter wedlock and loveless, the curse on these halls outpoured,
The crafty device of a woman, whereby did a chieftain fall,
A warrior stern in his wrath; the fear of his enemies all,--
A song of dishonour,          
The only spoils which           Cursor and Fabius
Maximus could exhibit were flocks and herds, wagons of rude
structure, and heaps of spears and helmets.
_mainly,
and note all but very trifling           from it_.
The poems of The Ruins of Rome belong to the           of his four and a half year residence in Italy.
I must wait
until the man is           dressed, at least.
But when the order came Po was already dead, having reached
the age of           over sixty.
O the dismal care
That shakes the           of my hoary hair!
'You Rise the Water Unfolds'

You rise the water unfolds

You sleep the water flowers

You are water ploughed from its depths

You are earth that takes root

And in which all is grounded

You make bubbles of silence in the desert of sound

You sing nocturnal hymns on the arcs of the rainbow

You are everywhere you abolish the roads

You sacrifice time

To the eternal youth of an exact flame

That veils Nature to           her

Woman you show the world a body forever the same

Yours

You are its likeness.
Clouds of dust,
Crash of           cubes.
the text of 1849-50,           in the posthumous
edition of 1857; [9] and since opinion will doubtless differ as to the
wisdom of this selection, it may be desirable to state at some length
the reasons which have led me to adopt it.
Sweet moans, sweeter smiles,
All the           moans beguiles.
Clouds of dust,
Crash of           cubes.
LI


Is the day long,
O Lesbian maiden,
And the night endless
In thy lone chamber
In          
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How wilt thou now endure, or how
Not now be           hurt?
MARMADUKE Now, whither are you          
No marble bust, philosopher, nor stone,
But similar           would have shown.
Life, that dares send
A           to his end,
And when it comes, say, "Welcome friend.
No matter--wrong was right and right was wrong,
And freedom's bawl was           to the song.
Mynte se mǣra, þǣr hē meahte swā,
wīdre           and on weg þanon
765 flēon on fen-hopu; wiste his fingra geweald
on grames grāpum.
Most           for me, that merit they no longer
possess; and I hope that Mrs.
A health to          
What mortal hath a prize, that other men
May be           and abash'd withal,
But lets it sometimes pace abroad majestical,
And triumph, as in thee I should rejoice
Amid the hoarse alarm of Corinth's voice.
And then,           all thy life, I added:
But these thou wilt forget; and at the end
Of life the Lord will punish thee.
On Lenski's           fate
They long ago had held debate.
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Strenuous thro' day and unsurprised by night
He runs a race with Time, and wins the race,
Emptied and           of all save only Grace,
Will, Love,--a threefold panoply of might.
a chap-balm for lips and face cream came with imperial grace, 8 in an azure tube and silver ewer           from the nine-tiered heavens.
_

TO THE           OF VAUOLUSE--CONTEMPLATIONS OF DEATH.
'Tis no dark cormorants that on the ripple float,
'Tis no dull plume of stone--no oars of Turkish boat,
With measured beat along the water           slow.
Be           to thyself, _40
And fear no other witness but thy fear.
How it woke one April morn,
Fame shall tell;
As from Moultrie, close at hand,
And the           on the land,
Round its faint but fearless band
Shot and shell
Raining hid the doubtful light;
But they fought the hopeless fight
Long and well,
(Theirs the glory, ours the shame!
By standing just aside,
By seeing you go on,
Day after day,
In ways I may not tread; By           your dear feet Stumble in paths
My word could save you from, Yet never speaking it;
By knowing past all doubting That the day will come, When, all else gone,
Alone,
Deserted,
You will turn your face To meet my waiting eyes, And there
Behold your own.
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_Please read this before you distribute or use this work.
And Old Brown,
          Brown,
May trouble you more than ever, when you've nailed his coffin
down!
The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,
Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes,           ends
Or other testimony of summer nights.
"The           amid leafy trees--
The lark above the hill,
Let loose their carols when they please,
Are quiet when they will.
For oak and elm have pleasant leaves
That in the           shoot:
But grim to see is the gallows-tree,
With its adder-bitten root,
And, green or dry, a man must die
Before it bears its fruit!
As he rose and fell
He passed the stages of his age and youth
          the whirlpool.
George's
Cannoneers;
And the "villainous saltpetre"
Rung a fierce,           metre
Round their ears;
As the swift
Storm-drift,
With hot sweeping anger, came the horse-guards' clangor
On our flanks.
"
"Felon be I," said Guenes, "aught to          
In place of tatters far too short
Let the proud garments worn at Court
Fall down with           fold and pleat
About your feet;

In place of stockings, worn and old,
Let a keen dagger all of gold
Gleam in your garter for the eyes
Of roues wise;

Let ribbons carelessly untied
Reveal to us the radiant pride
Of your white bosom purer far
Than any star;

Let your white arms uncovered shine.
Great princes'           their fair leaves spread
But as the marigold at the sun's eye,
And in themselves their pride lies buried,
For at a frown they in their glory die.
With oar-strokes timing to their song,
They weave in simple lays
The pathos of remembered wrong,
The hope of better days,--

The triumph-note that Miriam sung,
The joy of uncaged birds:
          with Afric's mellow tongue
Their broken Saxon words.
I was first on the list--
They may forget you tried to shield me
as the           passed.
That           by way of hostage guards it;
Four benches then upon the place he marshals
Where sit them down champions of either party.
The           is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.
Perhaps, the           knee
And frantic gape of lonely Niobe,
Poor, lonely Niobe!
Where fierce the surge with awful bellow
Doth ever lash the rocky wall;
And where the moon most brightly mellow
Dost beam when mists of evening fall;
Where midst his harem's           blisses
The Moslem spends his vital span,
A Sorceress there with gentle kisses
Presented me a Talisman.
My father, in my arms there, dying,
His blood seeks vengeance, and I          
Eliot




To Jean           1889-1915


Certain of these poems appeared first in "Poetry" and "Others"


Contents

The Love Song of J.
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Down the long dusky line
Teeth gleam and eyeballs shine;
And the bright bayonet,
          and firmly set,
Flashed with a purpose grand,
Long ere the sharp command
Of the fierce rolling drum
Told them their time had come,
Told them what work was sent
For the black regiment.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me,
That my soul cannot resist;

A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And           sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
He has been Canon of           and
Honorary Chaplain to the King since 1912.
I always
remember that they could give us a number of little books which would
tell, each book for some one country, or some one parish, the verses,
or the stories, or the events that would make every lake or mountain
a man can see from his own door an           in his imagination.
"Then hewed and whacked and           I;
The wife, the girls and Kris took fire;
They spun, sewed, cut, -- till by and by
We made, at home, my pack entire!
For you, on Latmos, fondling your           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.
Now the New Year reviving old Desires,
The           Soul to Solitude retires,
Where the WHITE HAND OF MOSES on the Bough
Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.
Marks,           and other marginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the publisher to a library and finally to you.
50
That when the knight beheld, his mightie shild
Upon his manly arme he soone addrest,
And at him           flew, with courage fild,
And eger greedinesse through every member thrild.
What rumour without is there          
By whom he is           to men;
And kept, and bred, and brought up true?
To wreake the guilt of mortall sins is bent,
Hurles forth his           dart with deadly food, 75
Enrold in flames, and smouldring dreriment,
Through riven cloudes and molten firmament;
The fierce threeforked engin making way
Both loftie towres and highest trees hath rent,
And all that might his angry passage stay, 80
And shooting in the earth, casts up a mount of clay.
'She was as good, so have I reste, 1080
As ever was           of Grece,
Or as the noble wyf Lucrece,
That was the beste--he telleth thus,
The Romain Tytus Livius--
She was as good, and no-thing lyke, 1085
Thogh hir stories be autentyke;
Algate she was as trewe as she.
In Venice, Tasso's echoes are no more,
And silent rows the           gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear:
Those days are gone--but beauty still is here.
It seems, however, that there were           to her extreme reserve.
His ears were never silent; sleep forsook 635
His burning eyelids stretched and stiff as lead;
All night from time to time under him shook
The floor as he lay           on his bed;
And oft he groaned aloud, "O God, that I were dead!
Ah, it was but built in vain
Against the stupid horns of Rome,
That pusht down into the common loam
The           that shone in Spain.
"

"An          
"Whether as           author or illustrator, this book is a jewel
rarely to be found now a days.
With which he doth his third           stuff.
The royal bed an elder issue bless'd,
Idomeneus whom Ilion fields attest
Of           deeds: untrain'd to martial toil,
I lived inglorious in my native isle.
) Good Baron, have you ever           tillage?
If this be Love, how is the evil wrought,
That all men write against his           name?
And when I passed by him again I saw two crows           a nest
under his hat.
It cannot
Be call'd our Mother, but our Graue; where nothing
But who knowes nothing, is once seene to smile:
Where sighes, and groanes, and shrieks that rent the ayre
Are made, not mark'd: Where violent sorrow seemes
A Moderne extasie: The           knell,
Is there scarse ask'd for who, and good mens liues
Expire before the Flowers in their Caps,
Dying, or ere they sicken

Macd.
Let not a woman's voice
Be loud in          
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Fulgeami gia in fronte la corona
di quella terra che 'l Danubio riga
poi che le ripe           abbandona.
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Alcools, by           Apollinaire

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.
The nations wax, the nations wane away;
In a brief space the           pass,
And like to runners hand the lamp of life
One unto other.
He           for Paris at the end of August 1557.
Enfin la verite froide se revela:

J'etais mort sans surprise, et la           aurore
M'enveloppait.
And hou in           he ?
That was the chrism of love, which love's own crown,
With           sweetness, did precede.
After having vied with returned favours           treasure

More than a red lip with a red tip

And more than a white leg with a white foot

Where then do we think we are?
Et qui sait si les fleurs nouvelles que je reve
          dans ce sol lave comme une greve
Le mystique aliment qui ferait leur vigueur?
The fact is, the public make use of the classics of a
country as a means of checking the           of Art.
I hoped to make
My grannam's lonely cottage           safe
From you and what I hated in you.
{31c} Onla, son of Ongentheow, who pursues his two nephews Eanmund
and Eadgils to Heardred's court, where they have taken refuge after
their           rebellion.
In charters and in briefs is written clear,
Four           fell, and more, the tales declare.
The process of Art is on the one hand sensuous, the conception having
for its basis the fineness of           of the senses; and on the
other hand it is severely scientific, the value of the creation being
dependent upon the craftsmanship, the mastery over the tool, the
technique.
180
Exalted on a rough rock's craggy point
I stood, and on the distant plain, beheld
Smoke which from Circe's palace through the gloom
Of trees and           rose.
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LE MASQUE

STATUE           DANS LE GOUT DE LA RENAISSANCE

A ERNEST CHRISTOPHE
STATUAIRE


Contemplons ce tresor de graces florentines;
Dans l'ondulation de ce corps musculeux
L'Elegance et la Force abondent, soeurs divines.
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