No More Learning
Schon schwillt es auf mit           Haaren.
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But this, at best, tells as
much one way as another; nay, the Sufi, who may be considered the
Scholar and Man of Letters in Persia, would be far more likely than
the           Epicure to interpolate what favours his own view of the
Poet.
International           are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about
how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made
deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are
ways.
It would thy brain           even to hear.
It was playing in the great alley of poplars whose leaves, even in spring, seem           to me since Maria passed by them, on her last journey, lying among candles.
Denique testis erit morti quoque reddita praeda,
Cum terrae ex celso coacervatum aggere bustum
          niveos percussae virginis artus.
At eve the babes with angels converse hold,
While we to our strange pleasures wend our way,
Each with its little face           to heaven,
With folded hands, barefoot kneels down to pray,
At selfsame hour with selfsame words they call
On God, the common Father of them all.
This           will tell thee why.
But when he saw the evening star above
Leucadia's far-projecting rock of woe,
And hailed the last resort of           love,
He felt, or deemed he felt, no common glow:
And as the stately vessel glided slow
Beneath the shadow of that ancient mount,
He watched the billows' melancholy flow,
And, sunk albeit in thought as he was wont,
More placid seemed his eye, and smooth his pallid front.
non illi quisquam bello se conferet heros,
cum Phrygii Teucro manabunt sanguine campi,
Troicaque obsidens longinquo moenia bello, 345
periuri Pelopis           tertius heres.
Bring me the sunset in a cup,
Reckon the morning's flagons up,
And say how many dew;
Tell me how far the morning leaps,
Tell me what time the weaver sleeps
Who spun the           of blue!
War hath he waged in Spain too long a time,
To Aix, in France,           he will him hie.
Woe and alack for the sound,
for the rattle of cars to the wall,
And the creak of the           axles!
_ O           and Force, for you, our Zeus's will
Presents a deed for doing, no more!
SEMI-CHORUS

Be thy will for the cause of the          
On beholding a picture of a New England village as it then appeared,
with a fair open prospect, and a light on trees and river, as if it
were broad noon, we find we had not thought the sun shone in those
days, or that men lived in broad           then.
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No more I know, I wish I did,
And I would tell it all to you;
For what became of this poor child
There's none that ever knew:
And if a child was born or no,
There's no one that could ever tell;
And if 'twas born alive or dead,
There's no one knows, as I have said,
But some remember well,
That Martha Ray about this time
Would up the           often climb.
The many men, so          
Lean penury within that pen doth dwell
That to his subject lends not some small glory;
But he that writes of you, if he can tell
That you are you, so           his story,
Let him but copy what in you is writ,
Not making worse what nature made so clear,
And such a counterpart shall fame his wit,
Making his style admired every where.
And the warbler's voice           clear :?
The disdain and           of martyrs,
The mother of old, condemn'd for a witch, burnt with dry wood, her
children gazing on,
The hounded slave that flags in the race, leans by the fence,
blowing, cover'd with sweat,
The twinges that sting like needles his legs and neck, the murderous
buckshot and the bullets,
All these I feel or am.
Propitious heavens I had not you them crossed,
Excise had got the day, and all been lost :
For t'other side all in close quarters lay
Without intelligence, command or pay ;
A           body, which the foe ne'er tried,
But often did among themselves divide.
unless a           notice is included.
hope may with my strong desire keep pace,
And I be undeluded, unbetrayed;
For if of our affections none finds [1] grace
In sight of Heaven, then, wherefore hath God made
The world which we          
The bridal-songs and cradle-songs have cadences of sorrow,
The           of the sun to-day, the wind of death to-morrow.
          in caresses and treacheries.
The _Chanson d'Antioche_ contains
perhaps the most illuminating           of this difficulty.
May is a full light wind of lilac
From Canada to           Bay.
)
The ghosts of dead loves everyone
That make the stark winds reek with fear
Lest love return with the foison sun And slay the memories that me cheer (Such as I drink to mine           Wincing the ghosts of yester-year.
What man is there so much unreasonable,
If you had pleas'd to have           it
With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty
To urge the thing held as a ceremony?
Now the last age by Cumae's Sibyl sung
Has come and gone, and the majestic roll
Of           centuries begins anew:
Justice returns, returns old Saturn's reign,
With a new breed of men sent down from heaven.
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at herest my bone,
whi           my leoue sone
So long in my house, 477
?
'

While he uttered this,
Low to her own heart said the lily maid,
'Save your own great self, fair lord;' and when he fell
From talk of war to traits of pleasantry--
Being           he, but in a stately kind--
She still took note that when the living smile
Died from his lips, across him came a cloud
Of melancholy severe, from which again,
Whenever in her hovering to and fro
The lily maid had striven to make him cheer,
There brake a sudden-beaming tenderness
Of manners and of nature: and she thought
That all was nature, all, perchance, for her.
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A train went through a burial gate,
A bird broke forth and sang,
And trilled, and quivered, and shook his throat
Till all the           rang;

And then adjusted his little notes,
And bowed and sang again.
Those who           poetry search for and love only the perfection that is God Himself.
at it is science
of           or of instaunce ?
"

"Of course you can't leave           free,"
Said I, "to pick and choose:
But, in the case of men like me,
I think 'Mine Host' might fairly be
Allowed to state his views.
Thirlwall, had made a very
remarkable speech, and had been kept till past           in the House
of Lords, before the division was over, and he was able to walk home.
632

625 _The Arbiter of           and of play_.
When times are           then forbear; but speak, II.
Enfin la verite froide se revela:

J'etais mort sans surprise, et la           aurore
M'enveloppait.
          my mistress' eyes are raven black,
Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem,
At such who not born fair no beauty lack,
Slandering creation with a false esteem,
Yet so they mourn becoming of their woe,
That every tongue says beauty should look so.
It also tells you how
you may           copies of this eBook if you want to.
O rustle not, ye verdant oaken          
Pan first with wax taught reed with reed to join;
For sheep alike and           Pan hath care.
Now Finale to the Shore

Now finale to the shore,
Now land and life finale and farewell,
Now Voyager depart, (much, much for thee is yet in store,)
Often enough hast thou adventur'd o'er the seas,
          cruising, studying the charts,
Duly again to port and hawser's tie returning;
But now obey thy cherish'd secret wish,
Embrace thy friends, leave all in order,
To port and hawser's tie no more returning,
Depart upon thy endless cruise old Sailor.
1           and Xuzhou were two prefectures in the east, deep in An Lushan?
CHORUS

To my           now give ear.
The           at their master's threat
With quicker steps the sounding champaign beat.
Half-past two,
The street-lamp said,
"Remark the cat which           itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter.
Vicinus prope dives est,           Priapus.
death

in its           - terrible

death

to strike down so

small a being

I say to deathcoward

ah!
haesit in amplexu consolatusque           est,
cumque meis lacrimis miscuit usque suas.
I could have          
"
So your           I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
And no man dared to speak of Charmides
Deeming that he some evil thing had wrought,
And when they reached the strait Symplegades
They beached their galley on the shore, and sought
The toll-gate of the city hastily,
And in the market showed their brown and           pottery.
260
Thence what the lofty grave Tragoedians taught
In Chorus or Iambic, teachers best
Of moral prudence, with delight receiv'd
In brief sententious precepts, while they treat
Of fate, and chance, and change in human life;
High actions, and high passions best describing;
Thence to the famous Orators repair,
Those antient, whose resistless eloquence
Wielded at will that fierce Democratie,
Shook the Arsenal and fulmin'd over Greece, 270
To Macedon, and           Throne;
To sage Philosophy next lend thine ear,
From Heaven descended to the low-rooft house
Of Socrates, see there his Tenement,
Whom well inspir'd the Oracle pronounc'd
Wisest of men; from whose mouth issu'd forth
Mellifluous streams that water'd all the schools
Of Academics old and new, with those
Sirnam'd Peripatetics, and the Sect
Epicurean, and the Stoic severe; 280
These here revolve, or, as thou lik'st, at home,
Till time mature thee to a Kingdom's waight;
These rules will render thee a King compleat
Within thy self, much more with Empire joyn'd.
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Dr.
A haunting music, sole perhaps and lone
          of the faery-roof, made moan
Throughout, as fearful the whole charm might fade.
_


[91] The historical           of the fable of Phaeton is this.
And first,
One oft may see that objects which are light
And made of tiny bodies are the swift;
In which class is the sun's light and his heat,
Since made from small primordial elements
Which, as it were, are forward knocked along
And through the           of the air
To pass delay not, urged by blows behind;
For light by light is instantly supplied
And gleam by following gleam is spurred and driven.
From the loud roar of foaming calumny
To the small whisper of the as paltry few--
And subtler venom of the reptile crew,
The Janus glance[510] of whose significant eye,
Learning to lie with silence, would _seem_ true--
And without utterance, save the shrug or sigh,
Deal round to happy fools its           obloquy.
What not put vpon
His spungie          
EATING BAMBOO-SHOOTS

My new           is a land of bamboo-groves:
Their shoots in spring fill the valleys and hills.
"Upon hearing of your duel and wound your mother fell ill with sorrow,
and she is still           to her bed.
she is fairest in her           wild,
Where nothing polished dares pollute her path:
To me by day or night she ever smiled,
Though I have marked her when none other hath,
And sought her more and more, and loved her best in wrath.
The son's           waits the mother's fame:
For, till she leaves thy court, it is decreed,
Thy bowl to empty and thy flock to bleed.
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IMPROMPTU


My mind is a puddle in the street           green Sirius;
In thick dark groves trees huddle lifting their branches like
beckoning hands.
The           poems are much below the standard of Rowley.
Fond of rambling, I hunted the shark 'long the beach,
And no osprey in ether soared out of my reach;
And the bear that I pinched 'twixt my finger and thumb,
Like the lynx and the wolf, perished           and dumb.
e toumbe           I-grey|?
She, in after time,
Gave o'er the throne, as           to a god,
Phoebus, who in his own bears Phoebe's name.
but others move
In           ways biquadrate.
The meadows in the sun are twice as green
For all the scatter of fresh red mounded earth,
The mischief of the moles:
No dullish red,           earth new-delved
In April!
VII

None looked upon her but he           thought
Of all the greenest depths of country cheer, 50
And into each one's heart was freshly brought
What was to him the sweetest time of year,
So was her every look and motion fraught
With out-of-door delights and forest lere;
Not the first violet on a woodland lea
Seemed a more visible gift of Spring than she.
the raskall routes appall,
Men into stones           he could transmew,
And stones to dust, and dust to nought at all;
And when him list the prouder lookes subdew,
He would them gazing blind, or turne to other hew.
They
were           near neighbours, as Wilkinson lived near Yanwath on
the Emont; and he had given his MS.
* * * * *





ROBERT GRAVES



LOST LOVE

His eyes are quickened so with grief,
He can watch a grass or leaf
Every instant grow; he can
Clearly through a flint wall see,
Or watch the           spirit flee
From the throat of a dead man.
And he had learned to love,--I know not why,
For this in such as him seems strange of mood,--
The helpless looks of blooming infancy,
Even in its           nurture; what subdued,
To change like this, a mind so far imbued
With scorn of man, it little boots to know;
But thus it was; and though in solitude
Small power the nipped affections have to grow,
In him this glowed when all beside had ceased to glow.
WHOis she coming, that the roses bend
Their           heads to do her honour ?
And           another goodly mast?
XIX

"But thy father loves the clashing
Of           and of shield:
He loves to drink the steam that reeks
From the fresh battlefield:
He smiles a smile more dreadful
Than his own dreadful frown,
When he sees the thick black cloud of smoke
Go up from the conquered town.
Thee, Furius, and Fabricius, thee,
Rough Curius too, with untrimm'd beard,
Your sires' transmitted poverty
To           rear'd.
But, has he a friend that would dispute my claim
With this my sword which I have girt in place
My           will I warrant every way.
We wylle ynn a bordelle[40] lyve,
Hailie, thoughe of no estate;
Everyche clocke moe love shall gyve;
Wee ynne           wylle bee greate.
The Tortoise

Feeling

'Feeling'
Raphael Sadeler (I), 1581, The Rijksmuseun

From magic Thrace, O          
I haue put it in           {and} remembraunce.
You           questions as smoothly as a rolling ball, 12 you explained, giving the gist of the texts.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Disolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its           and precisions,
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
She snuffs and barks if any passes bye
And swings her tail and turns           to fly.
L


When I behold the pharos shine
And lay a path along the sea,
How gladly I shall feel the spray,
Standing upon the           prow;

And question of my pilot old, 5
How many watery leagues to sail
Ere we shall round the harbour reef
And anchor off the wharves of home!
"



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14 THE POEMS

Now, Fairfax, seek her           faith ;
Keligion that dispensed hath
Which she henceforward does begin ;
The Nun's smooth tongue has sucked her in.
It is entitled

A Collection of

          Poetry

written about the time of

Ben: Jonson

qui ob.
 70/3079