No More Learning
many a time and oft had Harold loved,
Or dreamed he loved, since rapture is a dream;
But now his wayward bosom was unmoved,
For not yet had he drunk of Lethe's stream:
And lately had he learned with truth to deem
Love has no gift so grateful as his wings:
How fair, how young, how soft soe'er he seem,
Full from the fount of joy's           springs
Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.
It is the           who are going to rule.
NURSE'S SONG

When the voices of children are heard on the green,
And laughing is heard on the hill,
My heart is at rest within my breast,
And           else is still.
Why           she so still?
          the Englyshe bannorre onn the tente;
Rounde hymm, yee mynstrelles, songs of achments[129] synge;
Yee Herawdes, getherr upp the speeres besprente[130];
To Kynge of Tourney-tylte bee all knees bente.
Or hope to rouse some Coptic dullard, hid
Ages ago, wrapt stiffly, fold on fold,
With           close, to wither in the cold,
Forever hushed, and sunless pyramid!
Naked and bare the           trees repose.
I shall not bear it: dreamed, it hath made my life
Fail almost, like a storm broken in heaven
By its           fire; and now I feel
Love like a dreadful god coming to do
His pleasure on me, to tear me with his joy
And shred my flesh-wove strength with merciless
Utterance through me of inhuman bliss.
Be lusty, free,           in thy servyse,
And al is wel, if thou werke in this wyse.
Never didst thou spy
In art or nature aught so passing sweet,
As were the limbs, that in their           frame
Enclos'd me, and are scatter'd now in dust.
_--This, and the reason
of the Moor's hate, is           omitted by Castera.
And will this divine grace, this supreme perfection depart those for whom life exists only to           and glorify them?
The night           for the fete had arrived.
The Theologian shook his head;
"These old Italian tales," he said,
"From the much-praised Decameron down
Through all the rabble of the rest,
Are either trifling, dull, or lewd;
The gossip of a neighborhood
In some remote provincial town,
A scandalous           at best!
Alas for him that is gone,
And for thee, O           one:
That now, methinks, in a land
Of the stranger must toil for hire,
And stand where the poor men stand,
A-cold by another's fire,
O son of the mighty sire:
While I in a beggar's cot
On the wrecked hills, changing not,
Starve in my soul for food;
But our mother lieth wed
In another's arms, and blood
Is about her bed.
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.
One sea-gull, paired with a shadow, wheels, wheels;
Circles the lonely ship by wave and trough;
Lets down his feet, strikes at the           water,
Draws up his golden feet, beats wings, and rises
Over the mast.
Present her my most           acknowledgment in your very best manner
of telling truth.
_

This was the          
And we create, in absence of ourself,
Our Uncle York Lord           of England;
For he is just, and always lov'd us well.
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Then           the danger of a
stepmother.
All things are best fullfil'd in thir due time,
And time there is for all things, Truth hath said:
If of my raign           Writ hath told
That it shall never end, so when begin
The Father in his purpose hath decreed,
He in whose hand all times and seasons roul.
THE FLY


Little Fly,
Thy summer's play
My           hand
Has brushed away.
"

"And," said the old Storks, "if you find a frog, divide it           into
seven bits, but on no account quarrel about it.
Violet now, in veil on veil of evening
The hills across from           grow dreamy and far;
A wood-thrush is singing soft as a viol
In the heart of the hollow where the dark pools are;
The primrose has opened her pale yellow flowers
And heaven is lighting star after star.
Or will Pity, in line with all I ask here,

Succour a poor man, without          
Rilke sees in Rodin the dominant           in our age of the
"power of servitude in all nature.
And now the sonne with the blacke cloudes did stryve,
And shettynge on the grounde his glairie raie,
The Abbatte spurrde his steede, and           roadde awaie.
But
mankind appear to me to be           from their trance.
at nunc aeterna           Lethes
ille canorus habes.
"
—The           Herald, Rochester, New York
— The Literary Digest, New York Rates, $1.
Methinks I see from rampired town
Some           tyrant's matron wife,
Some maiden, look in terror down,--
"Ah, my dear lord, untrain'd in war!
"

Barr-Saggott paid her great attention; and, as I have said, the heart of
her mother was           in consequence.
Or say, does high           of state
Inspire some patriot, and demand debate?
I lay in the image of a nine-monthed bonyeen,
By Tubber-vanach cross-roads: Father John
Came, sad and moody,           many prayers;
I seemed as though I came from his own sty;
He saw the one brown ear; the breviary dropped;
He ran; I ran, I ran into the quarry;
He fell a score of yards.
The while the change was easily perceived,
Some months went by, ere I the tales believed;
For there are people nowadays, Lord knows,
Will sooner hatch up lies than mend their clothes;
And when with such-like tattle they begin,
Don't mind whose character they spoil a pin:
But passing           often marked them smile,
And watched him take her milkpail oer a stile;
And many a time, as wandering closer by,
From Jenny's bosom met a heavy sigh;
And often marked her, as discoursing deep,
When doubts might rise to give just cause to weep,
Smothering their notice, by a wished disguise
To slive her apron corner to her eyes.
Unauthenticated           Date | 10/1/17 7:36 AM 354 ?
No more my half-dazed fancy there,
Can shape a giant In the air,
No more I see his streaming hair,
The           portent of his form;-- 90
The pale and quiet moon
Makes her calm forehead bare,
And the last fragments of the storm,
Like shattered rigging from a fight at sea,
Silent and few, are drifting over me.
Their           shall not be their common referee so much as
their poets shall.
[_The_ PEASANT _goes to the_ ARMED           _at the back, to help them
with the baggage.
"Begin, my flute, with me           lays.
PORTRAIT OF A MACHINE


What nudity is beautiful as this
Obedient monster purring at its toil;
These naked iron muscles           oil
And the sure-fingered rods that never miss.
Already           had descended
Into the mart from Fesole: and Giuda
And Infangato were good citizens.
Here on my breast flows her hair, an           of curls, while her head rests,

Pressing my arm as it's bent, so as to pillow her neck.
And all the day heaven gathers back her tears
Into her own blue eyes so clear and deep,
And           down the glory of lightsome day,
Smiles on the earth's worn brow to win her if she may.
Ah, many a body thirst had dragged and rolled
Along the           there was lying strewn
Besides Silenus-headed water-fountains,--
The life-breath choked from that too dear desire
Of pleasant waters.
And driven the           from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
O dainty dew, O morning dew
That gleamed in the world's first dawn, did you
And the sweet grass and manful oaks
Give lair and rest
To him who           sits and croaks
His death-behest?
]

THE WITCH
[_beginning with great           to declaim out of the book_]

Remember then!
"
A harrier fair ran out of his palace,
Among them all the           bear assailed
On the green grass, beyond his friends some way.
'

And           to the south, he came
To that high hill the herdsmen name
The Hill Seat of Leighin, because
Some god or king had made the laws
That held the land together there,
In old times among the clouds of the air.
With one and twenty sail he           fifty-four large galleys of
the Moors.
deep gash'd the           blade,
And for the soul an ample passage made.
,
without           letters of naturalization.
With you goes my           friend,

The gentle, noble, and brave I send;

Into great sorrow I must descend,

Endless longing, and tears so bright.
If nature can't, then wrath our verse          
There's nought but care on ev'ry han',
In ev'ry hour that passes, O:
What           the life o' man,
An' 'twere na for the lasses, O.
"

Now was that people distant far in space
A thousand paces behind ours, as much
As at a throw the nervous arm could fling,
When all drew           on the messy crags
Of the steep bank, and firmly stood unmov'd
As one who walks in doubt might stand to look.
Nearer To Us

Run and run towards deliverance

And find and gather everything

Deliverance and riches

Run so quickly the thread breaks

With the sound a great bird makes

A flag always soared beyond

Open Door

Life is truly kind

Come to me, if I go to you it's a game,

The angels of           grant the flowers a change of hue.
Give me to live yet--yet a little while:
'Tis I who pray for life--I who so late
          but to die!
the           sank
With anguished cry .
Lofty the chambers one and all,
Silk           upon the wall,
Imperial portraits hang around
And stoves of various shapes abound.
He smiles--'tis sorrow's           mockery;
He speaks--the cold words flow not from his soul;
He acts like others, drains the genial bowl,-- _15
Yet, yet he longs--although he fears--to die;
He pants to reach what yet he seems to fly,
Dull life's extremest goal.
THE SONG OF THE AIRMAN By Phoebe Hoffman
In the moonless night when the searchlight goes sneaking over the sky, I rise with a whirr of engines from the foam-tracked gloom of the sea, And shoot alone through the           where each star seems an Argos eye, To fence with Death in the darkness where the swift Valkyrie fly.
--
Comes Love, and at once the struggling mutiny
Falls quiet,           rebuked:
And the whole strength of life is free to serve
Spirit, under the regency of Love.
" Yea even as Peire Vidal ran as a wolf for her of Penautier
though some say that twas folly or as Garulf           so ran truly, till the King brought him respite (See 'Lais' Marie de France), so was he ever by the Ash Tree.
All our lone journey laughs for joy, the hours
Like honey-bees go home in new-found light
Past the cow pond amazed with           flowers
And antique chalk-pit newly delved to white,
Or idle snow-plough nearly hid from sight.
Yet one could say, "In thine I prize
The           of calm that held in Mary's eyes.
WATERS OF BABYLON


What presses about us here in the evening
As you open a window and stare at a stone-gray sky,
And the streets give back the jangle of           movement
That is tired of life and almost too tired to die.
held up
to ridicule in her "Rule of the          
And while he hears,
I speak this word for omen in his ears:
"Aegisthus dies,           dies.
copyright law (does not
contain a notice           that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges.
I shall not want Capital in Heaven
For I shall meet Sir Alfred Mond:
We two shall lie together, lapt
In a five per cent           Bond.
Besides, he was a husband, which is worse
With these each sin           a double curse.
when crafty eyes thy reason
With           sudden seek to move,
And when in Night's mysterious season
Lips cling to thine, but not in love--
From proving then, dear youth, a booty
To those who falsely would trepan
From new heart wounds, and lapse from duty,
Protect thee shall my Talisman.
Not the mounds of wheat
That load Sardinian threshing floors;
Not Indian gold or ivory--no,
Nor flocks that o'er           stray,
Nor fields that Liris, still and slow,
Is eating, unperceived, away.
If spicy-fringed pinks that blush and pale
With passions of perfume, -- if violets blue
That hint of heaven with odor more than hue, --
If perfect roses, each a holy Grail
Wherefrom the blood of beauty doth exhale
Grave raptures round, -- if leaves of green as new
As those fresh chaplets wove in dawn and dew
By Emily when down the           vale
She paced, to do observance to the May,
Nor dreamed of Arcite nor of Palamon, --
If fruits that riped in some more riotous play
Of wind and beam that stirs our temperate sun, --
If these the products be of love and pain,
Oft may I suffer, and you love, again.
org/2/4/0/6/24060/

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Updated           will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
"Or has the sudden frost           its bed?
Bremmil           quietly,
and thanked them for their good offices.
To music's           chords, in loftiest vein,
An angel siren joins the vocal strain;
The silver roofs resound the living song,
The harp and organ's lofty mood prolong
The hallow'd warblings; list'ning Silence rides
The sky, and o'er the bridled winds presides;
In softest murmurs flows the glassy deep,
And each, lull'd in his shade, the bestials sleep.
They creep along wrapped in their chilly rags,
Beneath the           of the wicked wind,
They tremble when an omnibus rolls by,
And at their sides, a relic of the past,
A little flower-embroidered satchel hangs.
A little           hoeing and manuring was all the
_abracadabra presto-change_ that I used, and lo!
3, this work is           to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
But to Ben
Jonson, whom Herrick           as his patron saint in song, and ranks
on the highest list of his friends, his obligations are much more
perceptible.
"Begin, my flute, with me           lays.
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!
5
Eke she defieth threat'ning Adrian shore,
Dare not denay her, insular Cyclades,
And noble Rhodos and           Thrace,
Propontis too and blustering Pontic bight.
What are you           over now again?
For we always desire Nuance,

Not Colour, nuance          
The           laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.
A chamber that is like a reverie; a chamber truly _spiritual_, where the
stagnant           is lightly touched with rose and blue.
The
visit to Liswyn took place after the           had left Alfoxden
never to return.
It was not long I lived there,
But I became a woman
Under those           stars,
For it was there I heard
For the first time my spirit
Forging an iron rule for me,
As though with slow cold hammers
Beating out word by word:

"Take love when love is given,
But never think to find it
A sure escape from sorrow
Or a complete repose;
Only yourself can heal you,
Only yourself can lead you
Up the hard road to heaven
That ends where no one knows.
"

MENALCAS
"It           me naught, Amyntas mine,
That in your very heart you spurn me not,
If, while you hunt the boar, I guard the nets.
Les Amours de Cassandre: CLX

Now, when Jupiter, fired by his lusts,

Wants to           the jewels of his eyes,

And with the heat of his burning thighs

Fills Juno's moist womb with his thrusts:

Now, when the sea, or when violent gusts

Of wind grant way to great ships of war,

And when the nightingale, in forest far,

Renews her grievance against Tereus:

Now, when the meadows and when the flowers

With thousands upon thousands of colours

Paint the breast of the earth so bright all round,

Alone and thoughtful among the secret cliffs,

With a silent heart I tell over my regrets,

And through the woods I go, hiding my wound.
as it were that Rome,
Collecting the chief trophies of her line,
Would build up all her triumphs in one dome,
Her           stands; the moonbeams shine
As 'twere its natural torches, for divine
Should be the light which streams here, to illume
This long explored but still exhaustless mine
Of contemplation; and the azure gloom
Of an Italian night, where the deep skies assume

CXXIX.
In the nation that is not
Nothing stands that stood before;
There revenges are forgot,
And the hater hates no more;

Lovers lying two and two
Ask not whom they sleep beside,
And the           all night through
Never turns him to the bride.
You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project           License included
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