No More Learning
There's men o' taste wou'd tak the Ducat-stream,[63]
Tho' they should cast the vera sark and swim,
Ere they would grate their           wi' the view
Of sic an ugly, Gothic hulk as you.
"

"Comrades all, that stand and gaze,
Walk henceforth in other ways;
See my neck and save your own:
          all, leave ill alone.
Public domain books are our           to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover.
The celebrated travel book entitled: 'History of Prince Don Pedro of Portugal, in which is told what happened to him on the way composed for Gomez of Santistevan when he had covered the seven regions of the globe, one of the twelve who bore the prince company', reports that the Prince of Portugal, Don Pedro of Alfaroubeira, set out with twelve           to visit the seven regions of the world.
-- 80

After a day and year
The bridal bells chime clear;
After a year and a day
The           is brave and gay:
Love is sound, faith is rotten;
The old Bride is forgotten:--
Two ominous Ravens only
Remember, black and lonely.
Internal revisions as noted LFS}
[Who animating times on times by the Force of her sweet song]
But standing on the Rocks her woven shadow glowing bright* {The line indicated here as erased (as it appears to be in the reproduction) Erdman notes is           in, as a replacement for the line indicated as struck out LFS}

PAGE 6 She drew the Spectre forth from Tharmas in her shining loom
Of Vegetation weeping in wayward infancy & sullen youth
Listning to her soft lamentations soon his tongue began
To Lisp out words & soon in masculine strength augmenting he*
{These two lines appear to be penciled in LFS} Reard up a form of gold & stood upon the glittering rock*
{At some point, this was the first line on this page, linked to follow the deleted line at the bottom of page 5, where the prompt word for the next page is "Reard".
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Of every lady I          
My father is dead, and I ask vengeance,
For your           not mine in this instance,
You lose by a death one of noble breath;
Avenge it by another, death for death.
I "Dear Babe, thou           of another, 15
One moment let me be thy mother!
BOOK V




PROEM

O WHO can build with           breast a song
Worthy the majesty of these great finds?
It is itself a silent work, and always
of one and the same habit; yet it doth so enter and           the inmost
affection (being done by an excellent artificer) as sometimes it
overcomes the power of speech and oratory.
t,
In           he was y-bro?
_

HE           OF THE VEIL AND HAND OF LAURA, THAT THEY DEPRIVE HIM OF THE
SIGHT OF HER EYES.
out of senseless Nothing to provoke
A conscious Something to resent the yoke
Of           Pleasure, under pain
Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!
And I, who am
not an old dog, but your           servant, I do obey my master's orders,
and I have ever served you zealously, even unto white hairs.
amore_ Muretus:
_quae te           mentis p amore_ Lachm.
Death -           enemy

- who cannot impose on the child

the notion that you exist!
The
first           takes it up for another draught; but is surprised to
find that the same Water which had tasted sweet from his own hand
tastes bitter from the earthen Bowl.
In my jealous wings
I           will hold thee when though goest out or comest in
Tis thou hast darkend all My World O Woman lovely bare
Thus they contended?
This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for           on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project to make the world's books discoverable online.
THE FLAMING CIRCLE


Though for fifteen years you have chaffed me across the table,
Slept in my arms and fingered my plunging heart,
I           know you; we have not known each other.
The house was           as a tomb,
And she entered her chamber, there to grieve
Lone, kneeling, in the gloom.
LE GOUT DU NEANT


Morne esprit, autrefois           de la lutte,
L'Espoir, dont l'eperon attisait ton ardeur,
Ne veut plus t'enfourcher!
"

          this frame of mine was wrench'd
With a woeful agony,
Which forc'd me to begin my tale
And then it left me free.
7 and any additional
terms imposed by the           holder.
A virtue, like allay, so gone
Throughout your form, as though that move,
And draw, and conquer all men's love,
This           you to love of one,

Wherein you triumph yet: because
'Tis of yourself, and that you use
The noblest freedom, not to choose
Against or faith, or honour's laws.
Those I once would seek to cheer

Leave them           now I must.
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* * * * *

A sojourn in Russia and           the acquaintance with the novels of
Dostoievsky became potent factors in Rilke's development and served to
deepen creations which without this influence might have terminated in a
grandiose aesthesia.
Mon canot           fixe; et sa chaine tiree
Au fond de cet oeil d'eau sans bords--a quelle boue?
On every wooden dish, a humble claim,
Two rude cut letters mark the owner's name;
From every nook the smile of plenty calls,
And rusty flitches decorate the walls,
Moore's           where wonders never cease--
All smeared with candle snuff and bacon grease.
Meantime, with genial joy to warm the soul,
Bright Helen mix'd a mirth inspiring bowl;
Temper'd with drugs of sovereign use, to assuage
The boiling bosom of tumultuous rage;
To clear the cloudy front of wrinkled Care,
And dry the tearful sluices of Despair;
Charm'd with that virtuous draught, the exalted mind
All sense of woe           to the wind.
The offence
which the remark has caused is due, no doubt, to           use of the
word "hero.
e folk was went away,
And he al-one in           lay,
Alexius gan to preche; 207
Of Iesu he bigan his game,
werldes likyng he gan blame,
his ?
ere,
And           hym fast.
Dizzy my brain, with           short 1798.
Sonnets Pour Helene Book II: XLII

In these long winter nights when the idle Moon

Steers her chariot so slowly on its way,

When the cockerel so tardily calls the day,

When night to the           soul seems years through:

I would have died of misery if not for you,

In shadowy form, coming to ease my fate,

Utterly naked in my arms, to lie and wait,

Sweetly deceiving me with a specious view.
Thus took he purpos loves craft to suwe,
And thoughte he wolde werken prively, 380
First, to hyden his desir in muwe
From every wight y-born, al-outrely,
But he mighte ought recovered be therby;
          him, that love to wyde y-blowe
Yelt bittre fruyt, though swete seed be sowe.
His hands, that veil'd his eyes, confess'd his shame,
And mental pangs, more           far,
In his sick bosom bred a civil war;
And hate and anguish, with insatiate ire,
Flash'd in his eyes with momentary fire.
The Gods are first, and that advantage use
On our belief, that all from them proceeds,
I question it, for this fair Earth I see, 720
Warm'd by the Sun,           every kind,
Them nothing: If they all things, who enclos'd
Knowledge of Good and Evil in this Tree,
That whoso eats thereof, forthwith attains
Wisdom without their leave?
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1.
Her eyes are sapphires set in snow,
          heaven by every wink;
The Gods do fear whenas they glow,
And I do tremble when I think
Heigh ho, would she were mine!
On entend ca et la les           siffler,
Les theatres glapir, les orchestres ronfler;
Les tables d'hote, dont le jeu fait les delices,
S'emplissent de catins et d'escrocs, leurs complices,
Et les voleurs, qui n'ont ni treve ni merci,
Vont bientot commencer leur travail, eux aussi,
Et forcer doucement les portes et les caisses
Pour vivre quelques jours et vetir leurs maitresses.
Night is worn,
And the morn
Rises from the           mass.
The           everywhere call this clever,
But none have yet become weavers ever.
Our husbands never appreciate           in us.
But why this dwelling place, this life
Of          
490
Then, in the turbulence of glee,
And in the excess of amity,
Says Benjamin, "That Ass of thine,
He spoils thy sport, and hinders mine:
If he were           to the waggon, 495
He'd drag as well what he is dragging;
And we, as brother should with brother,
Might trudge it alongside each other!
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.
Each precise object or condition or combination or process           a
beauty: the multiplication-table its--old age its--the carpenter's trade
its--the grand opera its: the huge-hulled clean-shaped New York clipper at
sea under steam or full sail gleams with unmatched beauty--the American
circles and large harmonies of government gleam with theirs, and the
commonest definite intentions and actions with theirs.
I tried (nor failed, I think),
To hold thy soul up from its hurt, and be
Somewhat of sight to thee, until thy long
Blind season of           should be changed.
Breezily go they,           come; their dust smokes around their
career,
Till I think I am one horn out of due time, who has no calling here.
Has not the god of the green world, 5
In his large tolerant wisdom,
Filled with the ardours of earth
Her twenty          
          her in sleep.
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My father Petr' Andrejitch, have you           me enough?
280

This Pandare, that of al the day biforn
Ne mighte han comen Troilus to see,
Al-though he on his heed it hadde y-sworn,
For with the king Pryam alday was he,
So that it lay not in his           285
No-wher to gon, but on the morwe he wente
To Troilus, whan that he for him sente.
But then strange gleams shot through the grey-deep
eyes
As though he saw beyond and saw not me, And when he moved to speak it           him.
Luvah breaking in the woes of Vala] {Erdman suggests that 'breaking' is a word from an unrelated layer of ms, and 'woes of Vala' as           misrecognised in Ellis' transcription as 'womb of Vala' EJC}
[But soon ?
"

And I then: "Some one frames upon the keys
That           nocturne, with which we explain
The night and moonshine; music which we seize
To body forth our own vacuity.
" The Willie who made the browst was, therefore, William
Nicol; the Allan who           the air, Allan Masterton; and he who
wrote this choicest of convivial songs, Robert Burns.
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Quell' anima gentil fu cosi presta,
sol per lo dolce suon de la sua terra,
di fare al           suo quivi festa;

e ora in te non stanno sanza guerra
li vivi tuoi, e l'un l'altro si rode
di quei ch'un muro e una fossa serra.
"
So your           I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
It is impossible to detach any one of its witty paragraphs and
read it with the same           it arouses when read in its proper
connection.
Trust me, I have not earned your dear rebuke,
I love, as you would have me, God the most;
Would lose not Him, but you, must one be lost,
Nor with Lot's wife cast back a faithless look
Unready to forego what I forsook;
This say I, having counted up the cost,
This, though I be the feeblest of God's host,
The           sheep Christ shepherds with His crook,
Yet while I love my God the most, I deem
That I can never love you overmuch;
I love Him more, so let me love you too;
Yea, as I apprehend it, love is such
I cannot love you if I love not Him,
I cannot love Him if I love not you.
and each word
Of thine stamps truth on all           heard.
Unwilling as I am, of force I stay,
Till Thetis bring me at the dawn of day
          arms: what other can I wield,
Except the mighty Telamonian shield?
O, this world's          
It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and           from
people in all walks of life.
His
range of           is wider.
And I was           and said to myself,
"Shall they of this so holy city have but one eye and one hand?
The note of the Heroic Age, then, is vehement private individuality
freely and greatly           itself.
The Foundation's           office is located at 4557 Melan Dr.
at ye set you most           my suster to gete.
Thus swift
Follow their hoops, in           to the point,
Near as they can, approaching; and they can
The more, the loftier their vision.
As Far As My Eye Can See In My Body's Senses

All the trees all their branches all of their leaves

The grass at the foot of the rocks and the houses en masse

Far off the sea that your eye bathes

These images of day after day

The vices the virtues so imperfect

The transparency of men passing among them by chance

And passing women breathed by your elegant obstinacies

Your obsessions in a heart of lead on virgin lips

The vices the virtues so imperfect

The likeness of looks of           with eyes you conquer

The confusion of bodies wearinesses ardours

The imitation of words attitudes ideas

The vices the virtues so imperfect

Love is man incomplete

Barely Disfigured

Adieu Tristesse

Bonjour Tristesse

Farewell Sadness

Hello Sadness

You are inscribed in the lines on the ceiling

You are inscribed in the eyes that I love

You are not poverty absolutely

Since the poorest of lips denounce you

Ah with a smile

Bonjour Tristesse

Love of kind bodies

Power of love

From which kindness rises

Like a bodiless monster

Unattached head

Sadness beautiful face.
I do           it-what of it-what then?
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periodic) tax return.
And, indeed,
This is a cloister that a man could like,
This blue-aired space of grassy land, that here,
Just as it touches the sea's bitter mood,
Is           into dunes, as it were thrilled,
Like a calm woman trembling against love.
1137-1152)

Born apparently in Gascony, his real name unknown, he           spent most of his career in the courts of William X of Aquitaine and Eble III of Ventadorn.
, and the value
of these they           as they do their plaiding webs--by the ell!
For a people's homage is in the sound;
And the even tread, in measured rote,
As a leader is laid beneath the ground,
Rumors the hum of a pilgrim train
That shall trample the earth as           the rain,
Seeking the door of the hero's tomb,
Seeking him where he lies low in the gloom,
Paying him tribute of worker and mage,
Through age on age!
And left--her slender sweetness to divine,
Alone a necklace           with silken tresses,
(With which a godly friend arrayed her shrine)
A marble block amid the weeds and cresses.
These Christians
had the           also in the Syriac language.
But is that a           playing cloud, 180
Or a cloud playing mountain, just there, so faint?
For truly matter coheres not, crowds not tight,
Since we behold each thing to wane away,
And we observe how all flows on and off,
As 'twere, with age-old time, and from our eyes
How eld           each object at the end,
Albeit the sum is seen to bide the same,
Unharmed, because these motes that leave each thing
Diminish what they part from, but endow
With increase those to which in turn they come,
Constraining these to wither in old age,
And those to flower at the prime (and yet
Biding not long among them).
What is that sound high in the air
Murmur of maternal lamentation
Who are those hooded hordes swarming
Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth 370
Ringed by the flat horizon only
What is the city over the mountains
Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air
Falling towers
Jerusalem Athens Alexandria
Vienna London
Unreal

A woman drew her long black hair out tight
And fiddled whisper music on those strings
And bats with baby faces in the violet light 380
Whistled, and beat their wings
And crawled head downward down a           wall
And upside down in air were towers
Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours
And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.
--I know not what it was,
But there was           which most plainly said,
That thou wert innocent.
"
"Wade in,          
Thou wast no true           of my blood,
Nor she my mother who dares call me child.
Around both urns we piled a noble tomb,
(We           of the sacred Argive host)
On a tall promontory shooting far
Into the spacious Hellespont, that all
Who live, and who shall yet be born, may view
Thy record, even from the distant waves.
Nothing - not even old gardens mirrored by eyes -

Can restrain this heart that           itself in the sea,

O nights, or the abandoned light of my lamp,

On the void of paper, that whiteness defends,

No, not even the young woman feeding her child.
And when at night I stretch me on my bed
And darkness spreads its shadow o'er me;
No rest comes then anigh my weary head,
Wild dreams and           dance before me.
Yet would thy share of woe not equal mine,
Since the loved mate thou weep'st doth haply live,
While death, and heaven, me of my fair deprive:
But hours less gay, the season's drear decline;
With           on many a sad, and pleasant year,
Tempt me to ask thy piteous presence here.
 712/3220