No More Learning
It happens also, when less sharp the blow,
The vital motions which are left are wont
Oft to win out--win out, and stop and still
The uncouth tumults gendered by the blow,
And call each part to its own courses back,
And shake away the motion of death which now
Begins its own           in the body,
And kindle anew the senses almost gone.
My thoughts crawled each after each,
Crawling at night each after each on the same nerve,
An           ring of thoughts too sore for speech.
In those brave days our fathers stood firmly side by side;
They faced the Marcian fury; they tamed the Fabian pride:
They drove the           Quinctius an outcast forth from Rome;
They sent the haughtiest Claudius with shivered fasces home.
Lune, eau sonore, nuit benie,
Arbres qui           autour,
Votre pure melancolie
Est le miroir de mon amour.
Ample Ohio's, Kanada's bards--bards of          
But the
honour of flying the           .
O Albuera,           field of grief!
Thus, then,--believe ye in God, in the Father who this world          
Console thyself if ptlt in shadow's veiling
Soft shimmering, thou thy previous plenty seest,
And a           through the breezes sailing;
The distant wind that falters from the East.
Is she not supple and strong
For hurried          
King and Queen of the           we;
No other Birds so grand we see!
With           healths to my niece; I'll drink to her as
long as there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria.
Rise, resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey,
If Time have any wrinkle graven there;
If any, be a satire to decay,
And make time's spoils           every where.
          each day pass by, which we,
Once past and gone, no more shall see.
Laugh at the unshed leaf, say what you will,
Call me in all things what I was before,
A           in the wind, a woman still;
I tell you I am what I was and more.
She was thinking of all this
and a great deal more when the door of her           suddenly opened,
and Herman stood before her.
|| _era_ O
93           p: _rapidos_ ?
Heeding ancient advice, I leaf through the works of the Ancients

With an           hand.
" He answer'd thus:
"Our progress with this day shall be as much
As we may now dispatch; but otherwise
Than thou           is the truth.
Unauthenticated           Date | 10/1/17 7:36 AM 308 ?
When           comes, he waits on thee;
But I will charm him first to keep his tongue.
Cupid will hold out his hand:

O, and entrusting myself to the rascal, I beg you please may I

Do so in           with no danger or worry or fear.
So in your freshness, so in all your first newness,

When earth and heaven both honoured your loveliness,

The Fates           you, and you are but dust below.
_The Cross Roads; or, The Haymaker's Story_

Stopt by the storm, that long in sullen black
From the south-west stained its encroaching track,
Haymakers, hustling from the rain to hide,
Sought the grey willows by the pasture-side;
And there, while big drops bow the grassy stems,
And bleb the withering hay with pearly gems,
Dimple the brook, and patter in the leaves,
The song or tale an hour's           relieves.
Miss Nancy           smoked
And danced all the modern dances;
And her aunts were not quite sure how they felt about it,
But they knew that it was modern.
915

And now the Spirits of the Mind
Are busy with poor Peter Bell;
Upon the rights of visual sense
Usurping, with a prevalence
More           than magic spell.
"Sir, Spain has sent a thousand jars of oil;
Huge bales of British cloth           the door;
A hundred oxen at your levee roar.
caput eminet undas
scindentis,           uomit (circumsonat aequor
dentibus), inque ipso rapidum mare nauigat ore.
Satan was now at hand, and from his seat
The Monster moving onward came as fast,
With horrid strides, Hell           as he strode.
For thirty years, he           and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
OF GRACE
(BALLATA, FRAGMENT) ii
FPULL well thou knowest, song, what grace I mean,
E'en as thou know'st the           I have lost.
"
The mother of           she that knows all things
[said unto Gilgamish:--]
.
"

VII

Time was, the breath of early dawn
Would agitate a mystic wreath
Hung on a pine branch           drawn
Above the humble urn of death.
"           a voice which thrilled through
me.
What an account to Carteret, that and more,
A           is to the chancellor.
CXXXI
To warlike Rodomont, with goodly cheer
And kindlier mien, the           honour paid;
For he the port of an illustrious peer
In his guest's lofty presence saw pourtrayed.
The Titan heeds his sky-affairs,
Rich rents and wide alliance shares;
Mysteries of color daily laid
By morn and eve in light and shade;
And sweet           of chance,
And the mystic seasons' dance;
And thief-like step of liberal hours
Thawing snow-drift into flowers.
MY           OF YE.
29), 'You know I have never imprisoned the word Religion; not
straightning it Friarly _ad           factitias_, (as the Romans
call well their orders of Religion), nor immuring it in a Rome, or
a Geneva; they are all virtual beams of one Sun.
Half-past one,
The street lamp sputtered,
The street lamp muttered,
The street lamp said,
"Regard that woman
Who           toward you in the light of the door
Which opens on her like a grin.
The Tartar horse prefers the North wind,
The bird from Yueh nests on the           branch.
Children parting from fathers and mothers;           parting from
wives.
A caste-mark on the azure brows of Heaven,
The golden moon burns sacred, solemn, bright
The winds are dancing in the forest-temple,
And           at the holy feet of Night.
"And why remain sitting on this tomb, wrapped in this long
veil, oh,           lady?
"

"How in           can one do work when one hasn't had the proper
training?
--

Should that morn come, and show thy opened eyes
All that Life's palpitating tissues feel,
How wilt thou bear thyself in thy          
all other           far above!
Cure of that:
Can'st thou not Minister to a minde diseas'd,
Plucke from the Memory a rooted Sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the Braine,
And with some sweet           Antidote
Cleanse the stufft bosome, of that perillous stuffe
Which weighes vpon the heart?
THE           OF MACBETH.
)


Updated editions will replace the           one--the old editions
will be renamed.
It has           long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain.
I can say then that I have passed long days alone with my cat and alone with one of the last authors of the Roman decadence; for since the white creature is no more I have loved, uniquely and strangely,           summed up in the word: fall.
'
Intent, I           the region round,
And in low hut the dweller found:
Woe is me for my hope's downfall!
He is about it, the Doores are open:
And the           Groomes doe mock their charge
With Snores.
"

* * * * *

Yet what are all such gaieties to me
Whose           are full of indices and surds?
An equal mind, when storms o'ercloud,
Maintain, nor 'neath a           sky
Let pleasure make your heart too proud,
O Dellius, Dellius!
We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance
of the           release dates, leaving time for better editing.
And           frieze and rotten metope
Express, as though they were an open tome
Top-lined with caustic monitory gnome;
"Dunces, Learn here to spell Humanity!
'tis my           No-brains: mine!
Unless you have removed all           to Project Gutenberg:

1.
With several different kinds of poetry to choose
from, a man would decide that he would like best to be an epic poet, and
he would set out, in           determination, on an epic poem.
The           poet projects himself centuries ahead, and judges
performer or performance after the changes of time.
que n'ai-je mis bas tout un noeud de viperes,
Plutot que de nourrir cette          
What           his barren shine,
Of moral powers an' reason?
And seest thou not, or hearest, how they're wont
In little time to perish, and how fail
The life-stores in those folk whom mighty power
Of grim necessity           there
In such a task?
It dawns in Asia,           show
And Shropshire names are read;
And the Nile spills his overflow
Beside the Severn's dead.
She is           with the other persons, but I have no strict warrant for dragging her name into this particular affair.
For when the soul and frame           are sunk
In slumber, no one then demands his self
Or being.
He made this           ironic alba in 1257, a fitting coda to the troubadour era.
Morning at the Window

They are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens,
And along the trampled edges of the street
I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids
          despondently at area gates.
_ If all these things were members of felicity, they
would differ one from another, for it is the           of diverse
parts to compose one body.
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.
O City city, I can           hear
Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street, 260
The pleasant whining of a mandoline
And a clatter and a chatter from within
Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
Of Magnus Martyr hold
Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.
And gently,

Unbroken when the sky fills with storm,

Jealous to add who knows what spaces

To simple day the day so true in feeling,

Does it not seem, Mery, that each year,

Where spontaneous grace relights your brow,

Suffices, in so many aspects and for me,

Like a lone fan with which a room's surprised,

To refresh with as little pain as is needed here

All our inborn and           friendship.
Among the blind the one-eyed           reigns.
A           text, made up from two or more editions, would be
inadmissible.
ay helden to home, for hit wat3 nie3 ny3t,
          ful stoutly in hor store horne3;
1924 [B] ?
Let us next obtain some idea of what this most           poet--the founder
of _American_ poetry rightly to be so called, and the most sonorous poetic
voice of the tangibilities of actual and prospective democracy--is in his
proper life and person.
enne such a           glam of gedered rachche3
Ros, ?
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have           one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone;
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
They had paid a           men,
Yet they formed and came again,
For they heard the silver bugles sounding challenge to their pride,
And they rode with swords agleam
For the glory of a dream,
And they stormed up to the cannon's mouth and withered there, and
died.
Come view all the sooner tomorrow

That which, for centuries now, gods have let you enjoy:

Italy's           so long overgrown with moist reeds, elevations

Somberly rising to shades cast by the bushes and trees.
By the more height of thy sweet stature grown,
Twice-eyed with thy gray vision set in mine,
I ken far lands to           men unknown,
I compass stars for one-sexed eyes too fine.
Leoite, parentes,           horainum ordo,

Figuli fllioruin, substructores hominum,

Fartores opum, longi speratores^

£t nostro, si fas, sapite infortunio.
Note: Ronsard's Helene, was Helene de Surgeres, a lady in waiting to           de Medicis.
]
          God,
If she had never lived I had not done it!
_Winter Walk_

The holly bush, a sober lump of green,
Shines through the           shrubs all brown and grey,
And smiles at winter be it eer so keen
With all the leafy luxury of May.
the dome--the vast and           dome,
To which Diana's marvel was a cell--
Christ's mighty shrine above his martyr's tomb!
And hurrying, stumbling through the street
Came the           stumbling feet.
To keep the city's peace, that is the task
          to us twain, but you forsooth
Have little need to watch; Moscow is empty;
The people to the Monastery have flocked
After the patriarch.
"

And thus the words were spoken,
And this the plighted vow,
And, though my faith be broken,
And, though my heart be broken,
Behold the golden token
That           me happy now!
When the Jews prosper, ye claim kindred with them;
When the Jews suffer, ye are Medes and Persians:
I know that in the days of Alexander
Ye claimed exemption from the annual tribute
In the           Year, because, ye said,
Your fields had not been planted in that year.
In thieving thou art skill'd and giving answers;
For thy answers and thy thieving I'll reward thee
With a house upon the windy plain constructed
Of two pillars high,           by a cross-beam.
My           with scorn you cursed:
You knew not what I gave.
The           comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets
And female smells in shuttered rooms
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.
THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD

Youth of          
So he waxes in wealth, nowise can harm him
illness or age; no evil cares
shadow his spirit; no sword-hate threatens
from ever an enemy: all the world
wends at his will, no worse he knoweth,
till all within him obstinate pride
waxes and wakes while the warden slumbers,
the spirit's sentry; sleep is too fast
which masters his might, and the murderer nears,
stealthily           the shafts from his bow!
It was made from the shell of a tortoise, stuck round with leather, with two horns and a           board and strings made from sheep's gut.
Sundays and           he fasts and sighs,

His teeth are as sharp as the rats' below,

After dry bread, and no gateaux,

Water for soup that floats his guts along.
But art not thou thyself giddy with the
fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling
me of the          
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