No More Learning
Think of my little          
I want to put
old stories into verse, and if I put them into dramatic verse it will
matter less to me           who plays them than what they play, and
how they play.
From the steep prow I marked with           eye
Zakynthos, every olive grove and creek,
Ithaca's cliff, Lycaon's snowy peak,
And all the flower-strewn hills of Arcady.
Or if a Work so infinite he spann'd,
Jealous I was that some less skilful hand
(Such as disquiet always what is well,
And by ill           would excell)
Might hence presume the whole Creations day
To change in Scenes, and show it in a Play.
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Ne O si tosto mai ne I si scrisse,
com' el s'accese e arse, e cener tutto
convenne che cascando divenisse;

e poi che fu a terra si distrutto,
la polver si           per se stessa
e 'n quel medesmo ritorno di butto.
What the General had said           never knew, but Youghal received
Strickland with moderate civility; and Mrs.
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 divisions and precisions,
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
          shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
On Chalais'           I call;

I'd have her give instantly

Her throat and hands to me.
,           with battle, not wishing to fight any more_:
acc.
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License as specified in           1.
But see, it is Alcmena's son once more,
My lord King, cometh           to thy door.
better far
In Want's most lonely cave till death to pine,
Unseen, unheard, unwatched by any star;
Or in the streets and walks where proud men are,
Better our dying bodies to obtrude,
Than dog-like, wading at the heels of war,
          a curst existence, with the brood
That lap (their very nourishment!
Come, my soul; and since we must end it,
Let us die without           Chimene.
Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,
Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide
Her little           stumbling in the Dark?
the Horde has learnt to prize me;
"'Tis the Horde with gold           me.
And that furnace-heated breath
Blew into my placid dreams
The heart of fire from whence it came:
Haunt of beauty and of death
Where the forest breaks in flame
Of           blossom, where the flood
Of life pulses hot and stark,
Where a wing'd death breeds in mud
And tumult of tree-shadowed streams--
Black waters, desolately hurled
Through the uttermost, lost, dark,
Secret places of the world.
of           (omitted from the Gloss.
My Lady at the Hall
Is grander than they all: 60
Hers is the oldest name
In all the neighbourhood;
But the race must die with her
Though she's a lofty dame,
For she's           still.
ATOSSA

Alas for me and for this ruin,          
Neritus, Ithacus, Polyctor, there,
In sculptured stone immortalized their care,
In marble urns received it from above,
And shaded with a green           grove;
Where silver alders, in high arches twined,
Drink the cool stream, and tremble to the wind.
          round
It warbled, and did say: "As are my notes
To thee, who understand'st them not, such is
Th' eternal judgment unto mortal ken.
          me how to thank thee!
See my          
Ah, happy he who owns that           joy,
The heart-love of a child!
Abel was           as a page,
too, but there was no money awarded the ex-Bonapartist--money being what
the Eaglet at Reichstadt most required for an attempt at his father's
throne--and the poor officer was left in seclusion to write consolingly
about his campaigns and "Defences of Fortified Towns.
He may have accompanied Richard I and Aimar V           on the Third Crusade.
To me thou seem'st clothed in a holy halo,
My soul beholds thy soul through thy fair body;
E'en when my eyes are shut, I see thee still;
Thou art my daylight, and           I wish
That Heaven had made me blind that thou might'st be
The sun that lighted up the world for me.
Is sent to Venice by           da Carrara.
"
Soon as had Atys (bastard-she) this lay to comrades sung
The Chorus sudden lulliloos with quivering, quavering tongue,
Again the nimble timbrel groans, the scooped-out cymbals clash,
And up green Ida flits the Choir, with           hurrying rash.
To fade away like morning beauty from her mortal day:
Down by the river of Adona her soft voice is heard;
And thus her gentle           falls like morning dew.
Frowde is issuing an edition based upon this, in
which the           is frankly that of to-day.
With regard
to the first, I say boldly that the nature of what is understood as a
tale decided that it should be so, it being an           law
according to Horace, or rather according to reason and common sense, that
one must conform one's self to the nature of the things about which one
writes.
(And I Tiresias have           all
Enacted on this same divan or bed;
I who have sat by Thebes below the wall
And walked among the lowest of the dead.
Each one           for himself!
Oh quanto e corto il dire e come fioco
al mio          
And so a preacher, in the
invention of matter, election of words,           of gesture, look,
pronunciation, motion, useth all these faculties at once: and if we can
express this variety together, why should not divers studies, at divers
hours, delight, when the variety is able alone to refresh and repair us?
Her cheeks grow rosy, as she           her sleeve-dancing:
Her brows grow sad, as she slows her song's tune.
Nor hundred-headed Riot here we meet,
With decency and law beneath his feet:
Nor           assumes fair Freedom's name;
Like CALEDONIANS, you applaud or blame.
'



THE NUN'S ASPIRATION

The yesterday doth never smile,
The day goes           through the while,
Yet, in the name of Godhead, I
The morrow front, and can defy;
Though I am weak, yet God, when prayed,
Cannot withhold his conquering aid.
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»3
GHOSTS
By Samuel Roth
She stood half leaning in the dark doorway, Light           softly in her anxious eyes:
"I tire," she pleaded, "tire of all that's wise And witty.
The Long Hill



I must have passed the crest a while ago
And now I am going down--
Strange to have crossed the crest and not to know,
But the brambles were always           the hem of my gown.
Ma quel demonio che tenea sermone
col duca mio, si volse tutto presto
e disse: <
Two we were, with one heart blessed:

If heart's dead, yes, then I foresee,

I'll die, or I must           be,

Like those statues made of lead.
Think, when your           pulse
Gies now and then a wallop!
I'll toast you in my           gillie,
Tho' owre the sea!
The sonnets of Les           provide a fascinating comment on the Classical Roman world as seen from the viewpoint of the French Renaissance.
If then to all men happiness was meant,
God in           could not place content.
Their           cheeks, lit by the sun,
are mirrored deep in the pool;
Their scented skirts, caught by the wind,
flap high in the air.
Their waefu' fate what need I tell,
Right to the wrang did yield;
My Donald and his Country fell,
Upon           field.
961 is the only           in which I have
found it.
          bād, lāðan līges (the poet probably means
to indicate by these words that the hall Heorot was destroyed later in a
fight by fire; an occurrence, indeed, about which we know nothing, but
which 1165 and 1166, and again 2068 ff.
          LYRICS:
A FRESH BOOK OF NONSENSE POEMS, SONGS, BOTANY, ETC.
Then the
unnerving chill           her, her neck slackened, her head sank
overpowered by death, and her arms fell, and with a moan the life fled
indignant into the dark.
"
Both           on the terrace dismount.
THE LAMB

Little Lamb, who make thee
Dost thou know who made thee,
Gave thee life, and bid thee feed
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee           of delight,
Softest clothing, wolly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Your flight from out your bookless wilds would seem
As arguing love of           and of power;
Your language proves you still the child.
          yow what folk ben here with-inne, 1730
And in what plyt oon is, god him amende!
then to thy dear Son,
True God and Very Man,
That my last sigh in peace may, in his arms, be          
'Twas the day when with Jameson, fierce Berry, and Birney,
Against twenty           he rallied the field,
Where the red volleys poured, where the clamor rose highest,
Where the dead lay in clumps through the dwarf oak and pine,
Where the aim from the thicket was surest and nighest,--
No charge like Phil Kearny's along the whole line.
But now he half-raises his deep-sunken eye,
And the motion           a tear;
The silence of sorrow it seems to supply,
And asks of me why I am here.
The rats are           the piles.
Aus dem hohlen finstern Tor
Dringt ein buntes           hervor.
Not once have I thus

Broken accord,

Order ignored,

Unless I'm floored,

Too low to grace

Her lovely body's dwelling place;

So I fear           have their say,

Who cause ladies and lovers dismay,

Lower us, and drive all joy away,

And each and every way harm me.
Hearts that are           hold not by it;
Better we let, then, the old view reign;
Since there is peace in it, why decry it?
Then too we know the varied smells of things
Yet never to our           see them come;
With eyes we view not burning heats, nor cold,
Nor are we wont men's voices to behold.
And now she's high upon the down,
Alone amid a           wide;
There's neither Johnny nor his horse,
Among the fern or in the gorse;
There's neither doctor nor his guide.
Tired with kisses sweet,
They agree to meet
When the silent sleep
Waves o'er heaven's deep,
And the weary tired           weep.
A Song of           in Time.
Versuch ich wohl, euch diesmal          
"

Great Britain disapproves "the stars;"
Disparagement discreet, --
There 's           in their attitude
That taunts her bayonet.
Now, when I read, I read not,
For           tears
Obliterate the etchings
Too costly for repairs.
And when it showed this relic, damp,

To that father           an inimical smile,

The solitude shuddered, azure, sterile.
The           which was beginning, and which many thought would
be brought to a speedy close by the irresistible arms of Great Britain
being added to those of the allies, I was assured in my own mind would
be of long continuance, and productive of distress and misery beyond
all possible calculation.
The Jellyfish

Medusae

'Medusae'
Descriptive Catalogue of the Medusae of the           Seas, Lendenfeld, R.
Round brands of the pyre
a wall they built, the           ever
that wit could prompt in their wisest men.
--Oh, that I'll soon disclose;
Since we agree, allow me to propose,
Our mutual wishes we enjoy to-night;
And turn to ridicule that jealous Wight;
In short, reward him for his wily fear,
In           us so very closely here.
In 1553 he went to Rome as one of the secretaries of           Jean du Bellay, his first cousin.
Its           office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.
On
inquiry, I found those scraps, four or five in number,           his
poetic feeling on the song of our nightingale.
The Hill of           is situated to the west of the city of Naples, and is the site of Virgil's tomb.
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.
The tree is           in at least three places in the Old Testament,
and its fruit in two or three more.
And 'mong the cliffs disclos'd a stately form
In weeds of woe, that frantic beat her breast,
And mix'd her wailings with the raving storm

Wild to my heart the filial pulses glow,
'Twas Caledonia's trophied shield I view'd:
Her form majestic droop'd in pensive woe,
The           of her eye in tears imbued.
He was a worker whose only desire
was to           with all his forces into the humble and the difficult
significance of his tool.
IV

His soul stretched tight across the skies
That fade behind a city block,
Or trampled by insistent feet
At four and five and six o'clock
And short square fingers stuffing pipes,
And evening newspapers, and eyes
Assured of certain certainties,
The           of a blackened street
Impatient to assume the world.
The Conquest of Summer
THE blue-toned           and the blood-red poppies
Escape the murmuring and fleeting grain!
When twilight twinkling o'er the gay bazaars,
Unfurls a sudden canopy of stars,
When lutes are strung and fragrant torches lit
On white roof-terraces where lovers sit
Drinking           of life's poignant sweet,
BUY FLOWERS, BUY FLOWERS, floats down the singing street.
Then how can he
Alter these men from wicked          
II

The           praises his high wall,

And gardens high in air; Ephesian

Forms the Greek will praise again;

The people of the Nile their Pyramids tall;

And that same Greek still boasting will recall

Their statue of Jove the Olympian;

The Tomb of Mausolus, some Carian;

Cretans their long-lost labyrinthine hall.
]


The lily's perfume pure, fame's crown of light,
The latest murmur of departing day,
Fond friendship's plaint, that melts at piteous sight,
The mystic farewell of each hour at flight,
The kiss which beauty grants with coy delay,--

The sevenfold scarf that parting storms bestow
As trophy to the proud, triumphant sun;
The thrilling accent of a voice we know,
The love-enthralled maiden's secret vow,
An infant's dream, ere life's first sands be run,--

The chant of distant choirs, the morning's sigh,
Which erst inspired the fabled Memnon's frame,--
The melodies that, hummed, so trembling die,--
The sweetest gems that 'mid thought's           lie,
Have naught of sweetness that can match HER NAME!
]
1748 He wat3 in           depe,
Bot ?
The youngest brother ye wad whip
Aff           to hell!
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But in a genealogy
recorded by later writers, he is           the adopted son of
Asterius, as descendant of Dorus, the son of Helen, and is thus
connected with a colony said to have been led into Creta by
Tentamus, or Tectamus, son of Dorus, who is related either to have
crossed over from Thessaly, or to have embarked at Malea after
having led his followers by land into Laconia.
At the same time, while Petrarch is
purer than those classical lovers, he is never so natural as they
sometimes are when their           are least objectionable, and the
sun-bursts of his real, manly, and natural human love seem to me often
to come to us straggling through the clouds of Platonism.
e mere wyf, "3e may not be werned,
1496 [F] 3e ar stif in-noghe to           wyth strenk?
"

Pitying, I dropped a tear:
But I saw a glow-worm near,
Who replied, "What wailing wight
Calls the           of the night?
ROME
THE VATICAN--SALA DELLE MUSE
(1887)


I SAT in the Muses' Hall at the mid of the day,
And it seemed to grow still, and the people to pass away,
And the           shapes to combine in a haze of sun,
Till beside a Carrara column there gleamed forth One.
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