No More Learning
He deems it sin to sing, yet not to say
A song--a mighty           in his way.
And why
Doth he himself allow it, nor spare the same
Even for his          
Series

For the splendour of the day of           in the air

To live the taste of colours easily

To enjoy loves so as to laugh

To open eyes at the final moment

She has every willingness.
And many a chief from distant regions[195] came
To share the laurels of Alonzo's fame;
Yet, more for holy Faith's           cause
Their spears they wielded, than for Fame's applause.
The           for
literature is not whence they came, but how he used them.
The outworn           hasten to run for the nearest shore, and turn to
the coast of Libya.
Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant
Unshaven, with a pocket full of           210
C.
THE LITTLE BLACK BOY

My mother bore me in the           wild,
And I am black, but oh my soul is white!
Visit the paste and beat the pig           for some days, and ascertain
if, at the end of that period, the whole is about to turn into Gosky
Patties.
e lace, with a knot,
2488 [E] In           he wat3 tane in tech of a faute;
[F] & ?
'38 vast French Romances':

these           were the customary reading of society in Pope's day when
there were as yet no English novels.
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.
Lycius to all made eloquent reply,
Marrying to every word a twinborn sigh;
And last,           to Corinth, ask'd her sweet,
If 'twas too far that night for her soft feet.
I call your sires,
Bravest of brave and           'mid the great,
A line of warriors!
And evermore the          
The vane a little to the east
Scares muslin souls away;
If           breasts are firmer
Than those of organdy,

Who is to blame?
' To
whom Palinurus,           lifting his eyes, returns: 'Wouldst thou have
me ignorant what the calm face of the brine means, and the waves at
rest?
In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg           Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
Then forward they sprang, and spurred and clashed;
Shouted the officers, crimson-sash'd;
Rode well the men, each brave as his fellow,
In their faded coats of the blue and yellow;
And above in the air, with an           true,
Like a bird of war their pennon flew.
To-day I thought what boots it what I          
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness,--
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,
In some           plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
Batchelor
Mary Morris Duane William Laird
Freshness, strength, beauty and dignity           the poems in store for subscribers.
This was first printed in Sir John Simeon's _Unpublished
Poems of Donne_ (1856-7), whence it is included by           in his
Appendix A.
The lily I           for thy hand,
And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair;
The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
One blushing shame, another white despair;
A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both,
And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath;
But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth
A vengeful canker eat him up to death.
Their number has even           within a few
years in this vicinity.
THE           OF MACBETH.
The lovely lady who was long so dear
To thee, now           is from us gone,
And, for this hope is sure, to heaven is flown,
So mild and angel-like her life was here!
So her fear fled; and then she said,
Leaning upon her quiet bed:
'Now thou art come, I prithee stay,
That I may see thee in the day,
And learn to know thy voice, and hear
It           calling me near.
To a Lady singing to her           on the Guitar"), "The
Athenaeum", November 17, 1832; reprinted by Mrs.
'

With glad remembrance of my debt,
I           turn; farewell, my pet!
unless a           notice is included.
Beautiful is the tradition
Of that flight through           portals,
The old classic superstition
Of the theft and the transmission
Of the fire of the Immortals!
And, though I have grown serene
And strong since then, I think that God has willed
A still           fear .
"
la la

To Carthage then I came

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









IV.
[26] The innocent simplicity of the Americans in their conferences with
the Spaniards, and the horrid cruelties they suffered from them, divert
our view from their           character.
Rimbaud qui ne savait supporter
la boisson, et que l'on avait contracte dans ces <> pourtant
moderees, la mauvaise habitude de gater au point de vue du vin et des
liqueurs,--Rimbaud qui se trouvait gris, prit mal la chose, se saisit
d'une canne a epee a moi qui etait derriere nous, voisins           et,
par-dessus la table large de pres de deux metres, dirigea vers M.
And the still           hover panting for hallowed souls.
And           of their hurt, by knife and charm,
Apis devised, unblamed of Argive men,
And in their prayers found honour, for reward.
|
+--------------------------------------------------------------+





End of the Project           EBook of Sea Garden, by Hilda Doolittle

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEA GARDEN ***

***** This file should be named 28665.
How is it then that some spiteful god in his wrath has

Raised from the poisonous slime           so monstrous again?
And then the           of the lamps.
OSWALD So far into your          
In Emily
Dickinson's exacting hands, the especial, intrinsic fitness of a
particular order of words might not be sacrificed to anything
virtually extrinsic; and her verses all show a strange cadence of
inner           music.
Or come again,
Or send to us
Thy wit's great overplus;
But teach us yet
Wisely to husband it,
Lest we that talent spend:
And having once brought to an end
That           stock; the store
Of such a wit the world should have no more.
His gifts with joy the valiant chief receives,
And gifts in turn,           friendship, gives.
"--

"I need not and seek not company,
Bonny boat, I can sing all alone;
For the           tall too heavy am I,
Bonny boat, I have wings of my own.
+ Maintain attribution The Google "watermark" you see on each file is essential for           people about this project and helping them find additional materials through Google Book Search.
Le Testament: Epitaph et Rondeau

Epitaph

Here there lies, and sleeps in the grave,

One whom Love killed with his scorn,

A poor little scholar in every way,

He was named           Villon.
960

'There           John Neal, who has wasted in Maine
The sinews and cords of his pugilist brain,
Who might have been poet, but that, in its stead, he
Preferred to believe that he was so already;
Too hasty to wait till Art's ripe fruit should drop,
He must pelt down an unripe and colicky crop;
Who took to the law, and had this sterling plea for it,
It required him to quarrel, and paid him a fee for it;
A man who's made less than he might have, because
He always has thought himself more than he was,-- 970
Who, with very good natural gifts as a bard,
Broke the strings of his lyre out by striking too hard,
And cracked half the notes of a truly fine voice,
Because song drew less instant attention than noise.
And yet it tasted like them all;
The figures I have seen
Set orderly, for burial,
Reminded me of mine,

As if my life were shaven
And fitted to a frame,
And could not breathe without a key;
And 't was like midnight, some,

When           that ticked has stopped,
And space stares, all around,
Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns,
Repeal the beating ground.
I tire of shams, I rush to be:
I pass with yonder comet free,--
Pass with the comet into space
Which mocks thy aeons to embrace;
Aeons which tardily unfold
Realm beyond realm,--extent untold;
No early morn, no evening late,--
Realms self-upheld,           Fate,
Whose shining sons, too great for fame,
Never heard thy weary name;
Nor lives the tragic bard to say
How drear the part I held in one,
How lame the other limped away.
But being
of our time, he has been like Maeterlinck, like Villiers de L'Isle Adam
in _Axel_, like all who are           with intellectual symbols in
our time, a foreshadower of the new sacred book, of which all the arts,
as somebody has said, are begging to dream, and because, as I think,
they cannot overcome the slow dying of men's hearts that we call the
progress of the world, and lay their hands upon men's heart-strings
again, without becoming the garment of religion as in old times.
let Nestor know
What grateful           still in this bosom glow,
For all the proofs of his paternal care,
Through the long dangers of the ten years' war.
"

Thus he: the stern Achilles thus replied:
"My second father, and my reverend guide:
Thy friend, believe me, no such gifts demands,
And asks no honours from a mortal's hands;
Jove honours me, and favours my designs;
His           guides me, and his will confines;
And here I stay (if such his high behest)
While life's warm spirit beats within my breast.
e then blood; and one that euery way
Lookes as he were of too good quality,
To intrap a           woman, or betray her: 170
Since you haue payd thus deare, Sir, for a vi?
The rowers lift their oars to view
Each other in the sea;
The landsmen watch the rocking boats
In a pleasant company;
While up the hill go           still
Dear friends by two and three.
The shed will hold the weather from their sleep,
The           warm them--and, for beds, a cloak
Is swansdown to a seasoned traveller:
It has been mine for many a moon, and may
Tonight, for aught it recks me.
Die Mauernpfeiler
          mich!
--The page           278 X 218.
When Shelley was on board, he had his papers with him; and much of the
"Triumph of Life" was written as he sailed or           on that sea
which was soon to engulf him.
Sur son char d'or brode de noirs raisins,
Lysios, promene dans les champs Phrygiens
Par les tigres lascifs et les           rousses,
Le long des fleuves bleus rougit les sombres mousses.
NURSE'S SONG

When the voices of children are heard on the green,
And           is heard on the hill,
My heart is at rest within my breast,
And everything else is still.
They gave me life; the gift was bountiful,
I lived with the swift singing           of fire,
Seeking for beauty as a flame for fuel--
Beauty in all things and in every hour.
SARA TEASDALE




WISDOM


It was a night of early spring,
The winter-sleep was           broken;
Around us shadows and the wind
Listened for what was never spoken.
I love forsooth these reveries,
Though           make me pant,
Voluptuously swaying
Upon an elephant.
If the value
per text is           estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
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files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+
We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002
If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total
will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end.
"You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
"They called me the           girl.
"

CORYDON
"This bristling boar's head, Delian Maid, to thee,
With branching antlers of a sprightly stag,
Young Micon offers: if his luck but hold,
Full-length in           marble, ankle-bound
With purple buskin, shall thy statue stand.
Happily now I've escaped, and my mistress knows Werther and Lotte

Not a whit better than who might be this man in her bed:

That he's a foreigner,           and lusty, is all she could tell you,

Who beyond mountains and snow, dwelt in a house made of wood.
Newby
Chief           and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.
Glory is but my menial, Pride my own chained slave,
Humbly           when Zizimi is in his seat.
Now blooms the lily by the bank,
The           down the brae;
The hawthorn's budding in the glen,
And milk-white is the slae:
The meanest hind in fair Scotland
May rove their sweets amang;
But I, the Queen of a' Scotland,
Maun lie in prison strang.
HILDA: Then I _have_ my          
How, also at Telepylus he arrived,
Town of the Laestrygonians, who           380
His ships with all their mariners, his own
Except, who in his sable bark escaped.
And next of shame renouncing every tye,
With tongue as bold as eyes,           made,
And begged him, haply an unwitting foe,
To sheathe the suffering of that cruel blow.
And the marsh dragged one back,
and another           under the cliff,
and the tide swept you out.
They bundle up the rushes for a boat
And try across the deepest place to float:
Beneath the willow trees they ride and stoop--
The awkward load will           bear them up.
And now 'tis night, the guardian moon
Sails her           course on high,
And from the misty woodland nigh
The nightingale trills forth her tune;
Restless Tattiana sleepless lay
And thus unto her nurse did say:

XVII

"Nurse, 'tis so close I cannot rest.
I envy nests of sparrows
That dot his distant eaves,
The wealthy fly upon his pane,
The happy, happy leaves

That just abroad his window
Have summer's leave to be,
The           of Pizarro
Could not obtain for me.
" This is the           account of what is now
Vermont.
_


They roused him with muffins--they roused him with ice--
They roused him with mustard and cress--
They roused him with jam and judicious advice--
They set him           to guess.
"Either           punish or entirely
pardon; that is my motto.
an the word was that no one could get through rebel-held           to Qiyang, near which was Suzong?
Loudly roared his iron cannon,
          ever in the strife,
And beside him, firm and daring,
Stood his faithful Irish wife.
If you are redistributing or           access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.
If you           this etext on a physical
medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.
]

XXXII

Bard of the "Feasts," and           breast,(43)
If thou wert sitting by my side,
With this immoderate request
I should alarm our friendship tried:
In one of thine enchanting lays
To russify the foreign phrase
Of my impassioned heroine.
at I charre hider;
For I haf           ?
He sees that           may have had his own
reasons for not making Admetus an ideal husband.
Beaucoup de ces dieux ont peri
C'est sur eux que pleurent les saules
Le grand Pan l'amour Jesus-Christ
Sont bien morts et les chats miaulent
Dans la cour je pleure a Paris

Moi qui sais des lais pour les reines
Les complaintes de mes annees
Des hymnes d'esclave aux murenes
La romance du mal aime
Et des chansons pour les sirenes

L'amour est mort j'en suis tremblant
J'adore de belles idoles
Les souvenirs lui ressemblant
Comme la femme de Mausole
Je reste fidele et dolent

Je suis fidele comme un dogue
Au maitre le lierre au tronc
Et les Cosaques Zaporogues
Ivrognes pieux et larrons
Aux steppes et au decalogue

Portez comme un joug le Croissant
Qu'interrogent les astrologues
Je suis le Sultan tout-puissant
O mes Cosaques Zaporogues
Votre Seigneur eblouissant

Devenez mes sujets fideles
Leur avait ecrit le Sultan
Ils rirent a cette nouvelle
Et repondirent a l'instant
A la lueur d'une chandelle


Reponse des Cosaques Zaporogues au Sultan de Constantinople

Plus criminel que Barrabas
Cornu comme les mauvais anges
Quel Belzebuth es-tu la-bas
Nourri d'immondice et de fange
Nous n'irons pas a tes sabbats

Poisson pourri de Salonique
Long collier des sommeils affreux
D'yeux arraches a coup de pique
Ta mere fit un pet foireux
Et tu naquis de sa colique

Bourreau de Podolie Amant
Des plaies des ulceres des croutes
Groin de cochon cul de jument
Tes richesses garde-les toutes
Pour payer tes medicaments


Voie lactee {1}

Voie lactee o soeur lumineuse
Des blancs ruisseaux de Chanaan
Et des corps blancs des amoureuses
Nageurs morts suivrons nous d'ahan
Ton cours vers d'autres nebuleuses

Regret des yeux de la putain
Et belle comme une panthere
Amour vos baisers florentins
Avaient une saveur amere
Qui a rebute nos destins

Ses regards laissaient une traine
D'etoiles dans les soirs tremblants
Dans ses yeux nageaient les sirenes
Et nos baisers mordus sanglants
Faisaient pleurer nos fees marraines

Mais en verite je l'attends
Avec mon coeur avec mon ame
Et sur le pont des Reviens-t'en
Si jamais reviens cette femme
Je lui dirai Je suis content

Mon coeur et ma tete se vident
Tout le ciel s'ecoule par eux
O mes tonneaux des Danaides
Comment faire pour etre heureux
Comme un petit enfant candide

Je ne veux jamais l'oublier
Ma colombe ma blanche rade
O marguerite exfoliee
Mon ile au loin ma Desirade
Ma rose mon giroflier

Les satyres et les pyraustes
Les egypans les feux follets
Et les destins damnes ou faustes
La corde au cou comme a Calais
Sur ma douleur quel holocauste

Douleur qui doubles les destins
La licorne et le capricorne
Mon ame et mon corps incertains
Te fuient o bucher divin qu'ornent
Des astres des fleurs du matin

Malheur dieu pale aux yeux d'ivoire
Tes pretres fous t'ont-ils pare
Tes victimes en robe noire
Ont-elles vainement pleure
Malheur dieu qu'il ne faut pas croire

Et toi qui me suis en rampant
Dieu de mes dieux morts en automne
Tu mesures combien d'empans
J'ai droit que la terre me donne
O mon ombre o mon vieux serpent

Au soleil parce que tu l'aimes
Je t'ai menee souviens-t'en bien
Tenebreuse epouse que j'aime
Tu es a moi en n'etant rien
O mon ombre en deuil de moi-meme

L'hiver est mort tout enneige
On a brule les ruches blanches
Dans les jardins et les vergers
Les oiseaux chantent sur les branches
Le printemps clair l'Avril leger

Mort d'immortels argyraspides
La neige aux boucliers d'argent
Fuit les dendrophores livides
Du printemps cher aux pauvres gens
Qui resourient les yeux humides

Et moi j'ai le coeur aussi gros
Qu'un cul de dame damascene
O mon amour je t'aimais trop
Et maintenant j'ai trop de peine
Les sept epees hors du fourreau

Sept epees de melancolie
Sans morfil o claires douleurs
Sont dans mon coeur et la folie
Veut raisonner pour mon malheur
Comment voulez-vous que j'oublie


Les sept epees

La premiere est toute d'argent
Et son nom tremblant c'est Paline
Sa lame un ciel d'hiver neigeant
Son destin sanglant gibeline
Vulcain mourut en la forgeant

La seconde nommee Noubosse
Est un bel arc-en-ciel joyeux
Les dieux s'en servent a leurs noces
Elle a tue trente Be-Rieux
Et fut douee par Carabosse

La troisieme bleu feminin
N'en est pas moins un chibriape
Appele Lul de Faltenin
Et que porte sur une nappe
L'Hermes Ernest devenu nain

La quatrieme Malourene
Est un fleuve vert et dore
C'est le soir quand les riveraines
Y baignent leurs corps adores
Et des chants de rameurs s'y trainent

La cinquieme Sainte-Fabeau
C'est la plus belle des quenouilles
C'est un cypres sur un tombeau
Ou les quatre vents s'agenouillent
Et chaque nuit c'est un flambeau

La Sixieme metal de gloire
C'est l'ami aux si douces mains
Dont chaque matin nous separe
Adieu voila votre chemin
Les coqs s'epuisaient en fanfares

Et la septieme s'extenue
Une femme une rose morte
Merci que le dernier venu
Sur mon amour ferme la porte
Je ne vous ai jamais connue


Voie lactee {2}

Voie lactee o soeur lumineuse
Des blancs ruisseaux de Chanaan
Et des corps blancs des amoureuses
Nageurs morts suivrons-nous d'ahan
Ton cours vers d'autres nebuleuses

Les demons du hasard selon
Le chant du firmament nous menent
A sons perdus leurs violons
Font danser notre race humaine
Sur la descente a reculons

Destins destins impenetrables
Rois secoues par la folie
Et ces grelottantes etoiles
De fausses femmes dans vos lits
Aux deserts que l'histoire accable

Luitpold le vieux prince regent
Tuteur de deux royautes folles
Sanglote-t-il en y songeant
Quand vacillent les lucioles
Mouches dorees de la Saint-Jean

Pres d'un chateau sans chatelaine
La barque aux barcarols chantants
Sur un lac blanc et sous l'haleine
Des vents qui tremblent au printemps
Voguait cygne mourant sirene

Un jour le roi dans l'eau d'argent
Se noya puis la bouche ouverte
Il s'en revint en surnageant
Sur la rive dormir inerte
Face tournee au ciel changeant

Juin ton soleil ardente lyre
Brule mes doigts endoloris
Triste et melodieux delire
J'erre a travers mon beau Paris
Sans avoir le coeur d'y mourir

Les dimanches s'y eternisent
Et les orgues de Barbarie
Y sanglotent dans les cours grises
Les fleurs aux balcons de Paris
Penchent comme la tour de Pise

Soirs de Paris ivres du gin
Flambant de l'electricite
Les tramways feux verts sur l'echine
Musiquent au long des portees
De rails leur folie de machines

Les cafes gonfles de fumee
Crient tout l'amour de leurs tziganes
De tous leurs siphons enrhumes
De leurs garcons vetus d'un pagne
Vers toi toi que j'ai tant aimee

Moi qui sais des lais pour les reines
Les complaintes de mes annees
Des hymnes d'esclave aux murenes
La romance du mal aime
Et des chansons pour les sirenes


LES COLCHIQUES

Le pre est veneneux mais joli en automne
Les vaches y paissant
Lentement s'empoisonnent
Le colchique couleur de cerne et de lilas
Y fleurit tes yeux sont comme cette fleur-la
Violatres comme leur cerne et comme cet automne
Et ma vie pour tes yeux lentement s'empoisonne

Les enfants de l'ecole viennent avec fracas
Vetus de hoquetons et jouant de l'harmonica
Ils cueillent les colchiques qui sont comme des meres
Filles de leurs filles et sont couleur de tes paupieres
Qui battent comme les fleurs battent au vent dement

Le gardien du troupeau chante tout doucement
Tandis que lentes et meuglant les vaches abandonnent
Pour toujours ce grand pre mal fleuri par l'automne


PALAIS

A Max Jacob

Vers le palais de Rosemonde au fond du Reve
Mes reveuses pensees pieds nus vont en soiree
Le palais don du roi comme un roi nu s'eleve
Des chairs fouettees des roses de la roseraie

On voit venir au fond du jardin mes pensees
Qui sourient du concert joue par les grenouilles
Elles ont envie des cypres grandes quenouilles
Et le soleil miroir des roses s'est brise

Le stigmate sanglant des mains contre les vitres
Quel archet mal blesse du           le troua
La resine qui rend amer le vin de Chypre
Ma bouche aux agapes d'agneau blanc l'eprouva

Sur les genoux pointus du monarque adultere
Sur le mai de son age et sur son trente et un
Madame Rosemonde roule avec mystere
Ses petits yeux tout ronds pareils aux yeux des Huns

Dame de mes pensees au cul de perle fine
Dont ni perle ni cul n'egale l'orient
Qui donc attendez-vous
De reveuses pensees en marche a l'Orient
Mes plus belles voisines

Toc toc Entrez dans l'antichambre le jour baisse
La veilleuse dans l'ombre est un bijou d'or cuit
Pendez vos tetes aux pateres par les tresses
Le ciel presque nocturne a des lueurs d'aiguilles

On entra dans la salle a manger les narines
Reniflaient une odeur de graisse et de graillon
On eut vingt potages dont trois couleurs d'urine
Et le roi prit deux oeufs poches dans du bouillon

Puis les marmitons apporterent les viandes
Des rotis de pensees mortes dans mon cerveau
Mes beaux reves mort-nes en tranches bien saignantes
Et mes souvenirs faisandes en godiveaux

Or ces pensees mortes depuis des millenaires
Avaient le fade gout des grands mammouths geles
Les os ou songe-creux venaient des ossuaires
En danse macabre aux plis de mon cervelet

Et tous ces mets criaient des choses nonpareilles
Mais nom de Dieu!
Myrtho

Myrtho, I think of you divine enchantress,

And of proud Posilipo, lit with a           fires,

Of your brow flooded with Eastern light,

And the black grapes twined in your golden hair.
All white objects are more           than by day.
ostendit digitum, sed impudicum,
Alconti           Symmachoque.
They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically           with public domain eBooks.
She dried her feet on the           grass;

She looked at me once again,

And the playful beauty then took thought.
But when the seasons following in their train,
Brought back the months, the days, and hours again;
As from a lethargy at once they rise,
And urge their chief with           cries:

"'Is this, Ulysses, our inglorious lot?
"Or mebbe you're intendin' of
         
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AVE IMPERATRIX


SET in this stormy Northern sea,
Queen of these           fields of tide,
England!
Another vain           covets fame in eloquence.
Add finders-out of           and arts;
Add comrades of the Heliconian dames,
Among whom Homer, sceptered o'er them all,
Now lies in slumber sunken with the rest.
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