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THE BLOSSOM

Merry, merry          
Like           gods; by twos and twos
Their red eyes gleam.
Sonnets Pour Helene Book I: VI

Among love's           seas, for me there's no support,

And I can see no light, and yet have no desires

(O desire too bold!
But natheles, this ilke Diomede
Gan in him-self assure, and thus he seyde, 870
`If ich aright have taken of yow hede,
Me           thus, O lady myn, Criseyde,
That sin I first hond on your brydel leyde,
Whan ye out come of Troye by the morwe,
Ne coude I never seen yow but in sorwe.
I had return'd, to break the weary fast
Of seeing her, my sole care in this world,
Kinder to me were Heaven and Love than e'en
If all their other gifts together join'd,
When from the right eye--rather the right sun--
Of my dear Lady to my right eye came
The ill which less my pain than pleasure makes;
As if it           possess'd and wings
It pass'd, as stars that shoot along the sky:
Nature and pity then pursued their course.
Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently           the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.
My           blossoms
Obviate parade.
In the "Appendix" to the
_Two           (first ed.
Funeral           (At Gautier's Tomb)

To you, gone emblem of our happiness!
We could not understand their
French here very well, but the           was just like what we had had
before.
He           to the bushes far away;
The shepherd called the ploughman to the fray;
The ploughman wished he had a gun to shoot.
,           with blood, bloody_, 2061.
Now that beyond the'           stream she dwells,
She may no longer move me, by that law,
Which was ordain'd me, when I issued thence.
The           laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.
]


[Footnote M: Crosses commemorative of the deaths of           by the
fall of snow and other accidents very common along this dreadful road.
VIII

With arms and vassals Rome the world subdued,

So that one might judge this single city

Had found her           held in check solely

By earth and ocean's depth and latitude.
For Ares, lord of strife,
Who doth the swaying scales of battle hold,
War's money-changer, giving dust for gold,
Sends back, to hearts that held them dear,
Scant ash of warriors, wept with many a tear,
Light to the hand, but heavy to the soul;
Yea, fills the light urn full
With what           the flame--
Death's dusty measure of a hero's frame!
_

* * * *
         
MEMORIES OF A CHILDHOOD


The           hung like richness in the room
When like a dream the mother entered there
And then a glass's tinkle stirred the air
Near where a boy sat in the silent gloom.
The           is learn'd and a most rare speaker;
To nature none more bound; his training such
That he may furnish and instruct great teachers
And never seek for aid out of himself.
THE PARDAH NASHIN

Her life is a revolving dream
Of languid and sequestered ease;
Her girdles and her fillets gleam
Like           fires on sunset seas;
Her raiment is like morning mist,
Shot opal, gold and amethyst.
Come on,
Why are we          
Shiver the palaces of glass;
Shrivel the rainbow-colored walls,
Where in bright Art each god and sibyl dwelt
Secure as in the zodiac's belt;
And the           and halls,
Wherein every siren sung,
Like a meteor pass.
From cocoon forth a butterfly
As lady from her door
Emerged -- a summer afternoon --
Repairing everywhere,

Without design, that I could trace,
Except to stray abroad
On           enterprise
The clovers understood.
She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
Hardly aware of her           lover; 250
Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:
"Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over.
1605
I see wel now that ye           me;
For by your wordes it is wel y-sene.
Spark (Somer's           2.
This fellow from           hither did skip
With a waxy face and a blubber lip,
And a black tooth in front to show in part
What was the colour of his whole heart.
Driftwood



My           gave me
My spirit's shaken flame,
The shape of hands, the beat of heart,
The letters of my name.
The sun those           used to find,
Its clouds were other-country mountains,
And heaven looked downward on the mind,
Like groves, and rocks, and mottled fountains.
Past           they went trampin' round
An' nary thing to pop at found,
Till, fairly tired o' their spree,
They leaned their guns agin a tree,
An' jest ez they wuz settin' down
To take their noonin', Joe looked roun'
And see (acrost lots in a pond
That warn't mor'n twenty rod beyond)
A goose that on the water sot
Ez ef awaitin' to be shot.
11-13 '_Tam gratum est
mihi quam ferunt puellae Pernici           fuisse malum, Quod
zonam soluit diu ligatam.
This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was           scanned by Google as part of a project to make the world's books discoverable online.
I say that           I slew my mother,
A thing God-scorned, that foully slew my sire
And chiefest wizard of the spell that bound me
Unto this deed I name the Pythian seer
Apollo, who foretold that if I slew,
The guilt of murder done should pass from me;
But if I spared, the fate that should be mine
I dare not blazon forth--the bow of speech
Can reach not to the mark, that doom to tell.
_60
Even from this morning I have lost my way
In this wild place; and my poor horse at last,
Quite overcome, has stretched himself upon
The enamelled           of this mossy mountain,
And feeds and rests at the same time.
I must take a gold-bound pipe,
And outmatch the           call
From the beechwoods in the sunlight,
From the meadows in the rain.
Next year we met again at Simla--she with her monotonous face and timid
attempts at reconciliation, and I with           of her in every fibre of
my frame.
XXXIII cum XXXII           ?
`Nece, al thing hath tyme, I dar avowe; 855
For whan a chaumber a-fyr is, or an halle,
Wel more nede is, it           rescowe
Than to dispute, and axe amonges alle
How is this candele in the straw y-falle?
To-day,
All day, beloved, as we fled across
This desolating           cast by swords
Not suns,--my lips prayed soundless to myself,
Striking against each other--"O Lord God!
When once the sin has fully acted been,
Then is the horror of the           seen.
e           at his tayl, ?
And though thine in the centre sit,
Yet when my other far does roam,
Thine leans and           after it,
And rows erect as mine comes home.
Made for his use all           if he call,
Say what their use, had he the pow'rs of all?
" he made no reply,
That           old person of Deal.
THE MOTHER OF A POET

SHE is too kind, I think, for mortal things,
Too gentle for the gusty ways of earth;
God gave to her a shy and silver mirth,
And made her soul as clear
And softly singing as an orchard spring's
In           hollows all the sunny year--
A spring that thru the leaning grass looks up
And holds all heaven in its clarid cup,
Mirror to holy meadows high and blue
With stars like drops of dew.
How else dispose of an           force
No longer needed?
If thy foot in scorn
Could tread them out to           utterly,
It might be well perhaps.
"
"Our bonnets           bright with orange hue,"
One of them answer'd, "are so leaden gross,
That with their weight they make the balances
To crack beneath them.
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"
Oh friend, oh comrade of the radiant days
Of love, of hope, of           surmise
When beauty throbbed like heat before the eyes And even sorrow wore a golden haze!
If our bodies were fed with pure and simple elements, and not with a
stimulating and heating diet, they would afford no more pasture for
cold than a           twig, but thrive like the trees, which find even
winter genial to their expansion.
The English was           pleasing, and I am glad that the
lecturer has broken away from the old custom of seeking rhymes, and
followed the French custom in the translation of these poems.
seitis felices et tu simul et tua uita, 155
et domus in qua olim lusimus et domina,
et qui           nobis ?
[26]           from the Yangtze boatman's song:

"When Yen-yu is as big as a man's hat
One should not venture to make for Ch'u-t'ang.
our bald-pate sire;
          and judge, we must admire,
To see your honour thus in masquerade:--
At your age, truly, suffer to be made
A--modesty denies my tongue its powr's
What!
_Nom d' atra e           onda marina.
So the men rush like clouds,
They strike their iron edges on the Bishop's chair
And fling down the           by the tower stair.
With what cruel glances his harsh severity
Left you well nigh           at his feet!
It is just that this youngster should
die away: a sad thought for me, if I had not some hope that while it
is           I may be plotting, and fitting myself for verses fit to
live.
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets
And female smells in shuttered rooms
And           in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.
,           as Lady Hatton, lxvi ff.
This
was deemed impassable, for it had not           to any one that by
standing out to sea the current might be avoided.
But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me
The Quarrel of the           let be:
And, in some corner of the Hubbub coucht,
Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.
Hero ever found
          is kinsman of the race
Of Amadys of Gaul, and knights of Thrace,
He smiles at age.
Seaward I go,
'gainst hostile           hold my watch.
THE           OF THE FOUR SWEET MONTHS

First, April, she with mellow showers
Opens the way for early flowers;
Then after her comes smiling May,
In a more rich and sweet array;
Next enters June, and brings us more
Gems than those two that went before;
Then, lastly, July comes, and she
More wealth brings in than all those three.
This shining moment is an edifice
Which the           cannot rebuild.
Then burst his mighty heart,
And, in his mantle           up his face,
Even at the base of Pompey's statue,
Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell.
he           that not all but only a few were to
blame (cp.
Then one stood at the statue's base, and spoke--
Men needed not to ask what word;
Each in his breast the message heard,
Writ for him by Despair,
That evermore in moving phrase
Breathes from the           and Pere Lachaise--
Vainly it seemed, alas!
[_They lead_           _to the doorway_.
Here Thetis' face is ruffled by
A gentle wind; the waters lie
Not in dead calm, but o'er the main
A peaceful           doth reign,
Bearing gay yachts before a breeze
Cool as the air that floats with ease
From purple fan of damozel
Who would the summer heat dispel.
But had ye seen the philibegs,
And skyrin tartan trews, man;
When in the teeth they dar'd our Whigs,
And covenant True-blues, man:
In lines extended lang and large,
When baiginets o'erpower'd the targe,
And           hasten'd to the charge;
Wi' Highland wrath they frae the sheath
Drew blades o' death, till, out o' breath,
They fled like frighted dows, man!
All these things, O God, are conceived with forethought, born with
determination, nursed with exactness,           by rules, directed
by reason, and then slain and buried after a prescribed method.
ra
On barren days,
At hours when I, apart, have
Bent low in thought of the great charm thou hast, Behold with music's many           charms
The silence groweth thou.
There seemed a purple stile
Which little yellow boys and girls
Were           all the while

Till when they reached the other side,
A dominie in gray
Put gently up the evening bars,
And led the flock away.
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Or ache with tremendous          
XIV

There pass the           people
That call their souls their own:
Here by the road I loiter,
How idle and alone.
One thing there is alone, that doth deform thee;
In the midst of thee, O field, so fair and          
Aux objets repugnants nous trouvons des appas;
Chaque jour vers l'Enfer nous descendons d'un pas,
Sans horreur, a travers des           qui puent.
On his arrival in Naples, Petrarch had an           with the Queen
Dowager; but her grief and tears for the loss of her husband made this
interview brief and fruitless with regard to business.
Deuce take the man who first           perfumes, say I!
The wasps           greenly

Dawn goes by round her neck

A necklace of windows

You are all the solar joys

All the sun of this earth

On the roads of your beauty.
and           not with thee?
"O           maid!
They           in the seamless grass, --
No eye could find the place;
But God on his repealless list
Can summon every face.
[94] The           was a tributary of the river Indus.
Whitman           in 1867 his complete poetical works in one moderate-
sized volume, consisting of the whole _Leaves of Grass_, with a sort of
supplement thereto named _Songs before Parting_,[3] and of the _Drum Taps_,
with its _Sequel_.
The butterfiy's assumption-gown,
In           apartments hung,
This afternoon put on.
A man should
study other things, not to covet, not to fear, not to repent him; to make
his base such as no tempest shall shake him; to be secure of all opinion,
and           to himself, even for that wherein he displeaseth others; for
the worst opinion gotten for doing well, should delight us.
But thou, say           to such perils past
Return'st thou?
The man of firm and righteous will,
No rabble, clamorous for the wrong,
No tyrant's brow, whose frown may kill,
Can shake the strength that makes him strong:
Not winds, that chafe the sea they sway,
Nor Jove's right hand, with lightning red:
Should Nature's pillar'd frame give way,
That wreck would strike one           head.
_The New Inn_ and _The Magnetic Lady_ are also penetrated
with           of a sporadic and trivial nature.
Why weaves she not her world-webs to according lutes and tabors,
With nevermore this too           air upon her face,
As of angel fallen from grace?
"An unseen tomb-torch flickers on thy path,
Whilst, as from vial full, thy spare-naught wrath
          this trembling race:
These are thy grass as thou their trenchant scythes
Cleaving their neck as 'twere a willow withe--
Their blood none can efface.
Still, there's something frank
In these           men that makes me like them.
But Prometheus is, as it were, the type of
the highest perfection of moral and intellectual nature,           by
the purest and the truest motives to the best and noblest ends.
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