No More Learning
Their faith the everlasting troth;
Their           fair;
The needle to the north degree
Wades so, through polar air.
Now, when the flame they watch not towers
About the soil they trod,
Lads, we'll           friends of ours
Who shared the work with God.
Who shall keep the curs out of the          
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in           snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
For trewely I holde it greet deyntee
A kinges sone in armes wel to do, 165
And been of good           ther-to;
For greet power and moral vertu here
Is selde y-seye in o persone y-fere.
"Begin, my flute, with me           lays.
The Woman remains
in the           while_ HERACLES _comes forward.
With           grace
On me, on me look down!
2) The dedication of the poem "Sunrise", at the           of this volume,
is in the 1918 copy, but not in the 1898 copy.
O, so unnatural Nature,

You whose           flower

Lasts only from dawn to dusk!
Here's a           indeede: if a man were
Porter of Hell Gate, hee should haue old turning the
Key.
"

The monarch spoke; and straight a murmur rose,
Loud as the surges when the tempest blows,
That dash'd on broken rocks           roar,
And foam and thunder on the stony shore.
Here again we have a punning allusion to the           head of
the gentleman-usher.
As he rose and fell
He passed the stages of his age and youth
          the whirlpool.
Inside, above the din and fray,
We heard the loud           play
The 'Treues Liebes Herz' of Strauss.
You bewitched the rivers, flowers and woods,

With your lyre, in vain but beguilingly,

Yet not what your soul felt, the beauty

That dealt what was           in your blood.
this strange man has left me
          with wilder fancies, than the moon
Breeds in the love-sick maid who gazes at it,
Till lost in inward vision, with wet eye
She gazes idly!
Perhaps I seem
To address thee with old saws and outworn sense,--
Yet such a curse, Prometheus, surely waits
On lips that speak too proudly: thou, meantime,
Art none the meeker, nor dost yield a jot
To evil circumstance,           still
To swell the account of grief with other griefs
Than what are borne.
Et, comme elle vous trouve           naif,
Tout en faisant trotter ses petites bottines,
Elle se tourne, alerte et d'un mouvement vif.
Its           office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.
Origin of           and Tyranny, from
the same principle, of Fear, v.
Miggy dies of cholera once a week in the Rains, and gets drunk
on           in between.
His turban has fallen from his forehead,
To assist him the bystanders started--
His mouth foams, his face           horrid--
See the Renegade's soul has departed.
Not upon          
And that           lute,
Placed length-ways in the clasping casement,
hark!
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_

THE EVIL RESULTS OF           ANGER.
Fifth Self: Nay, it is I, the thinking self, the           self,
the self of hunger and thirst, the one doomed to wander without
rest in search of unknown things and things not yet created; it is
I, not you, who would rebel.
He was black in the face, and they           could trace
The least likeness to what he had been:
While so great was his fright that his waistcoat turned white--
A wonderful thing to be seen!
) and built their nests like rooks
In lonely towers, to which the           brought
His pedler's-box of cheap and tawdry thought,
With here and there a fancy fit to see
Wrought in quaint grace in golden filigree,--
Some ring that with the Muse's finger yet
Is warm, like Aucassin and Nicolete;
The morning newspaper has spoilt his trade,
(For better or for worse, I leave unsaid,) 110
And stories now, to suit a public nice,
Must be half epigram, half pleasant vice.
"You'll           find that one or two
Are all you really need
To let the wind come whistling through--
But _here_ there'll be a lot to do!
But if the space between
Be longer than is fit, the words must be
Through the much air confounded, and the voice
          in its flight across the winds--
And so it haps, that thou canst sound perceive,
Yet not determine what the words may mean;
To such degree confounded and encumbered
The voice approaches us.
Maxime
du Camp was much to blame for the promulgation of these tales--witness
his           litteraires.
Who talks of Babylon when God even now
Is           her fierce champion, Holofernes,
Into the death a woman holds before him?
" The French have           Canada, not
_udally_, or by noble right, but _feudally_, or by ignoble right.
This is certainly the case; I
have found the same poem classified           in different native
books.
" Thus down our road we took
Through those dilapidated crags, that oft
Mov'd           my feet, to weight like theirs
Unus'd.
To take away my dove, my lamb, my          
They reminded me in this of the Indians, whom they
were slow to displace, and to whose habits of life they           more
readily conformed than the Indians to theirs.
Riddel if she will favour
him with a perusal of any of her           pieces which he may not have
seen.
And if I don't, the little Bird
Within the Orchard is not heard,
And I omit to pray,
'Father, thy will be done' to-day,
For my will goes the other way,
And it were          
Then such a rearing without bridle,
A raging which no arm could fend,
An opening of new           spaces,
A thrill in which all senses blend.
Give me the man of sturdy palm
And vigorous brain;
Hearty, companionable, sane,
'Mid all commotions calm,
Yet filled with quick, enthusiastic fire;--
Give me the man
Whose impulses aspire,
And all his           seem to say, "I can!
, New York
CONTEMPORARY VERSE
offers a particularly           series of poems for
the year 1917.
The sonnets
referring to "Aspects of Christianity in America"--inserted in the 1845
and 1849-50           of the collected Works--are found in no previous
edition or version of the "Ecclesiastical Sonnets.
Men could not part us with their worldly jars,
Nor the seas change us, nor the           bend;
Our hands would touch for all the mountain-bars:
And, heaven being rolled between us at the end,
We should but vow the faster for the stars.
that Heaven assigned
Its only           thing this turn of mind.
Behind his load for shelter waded he;
His           hands now on his chest he beat,
Now stamped the stiffened cowhides of his feet, 500
Hushed as a ghost's; his armpit scarce could hold
The walnut whipstock slippery-bright with cold.
Les Amours de Cassandre: CXXXV

Sweet beauty,           of my life,

Instead of a heart you've a boulder:

Living, you make me waste and shudder,

Impassioned by amorous desire.
]


[Footnote 33: In 1833 the following song took the place of the song in
the text:--

All           you met me not,
My ladylove, forget me not.
ipse per Ausonias Aeneia carmina gentis
qui sonat, ingenti qui nomine pulsat Olympum
Maeoniumque senem Romano prouocat ore,
forsitan illius nemoris           in umbra,
quod canit, et sterili tantum cantasset auena
ignotus populis, si Maecenate careret.
_ 81]

* * * * *




THE POET'S           OF HIS WORKS.
Most           'mid race of Romulus
That is or ever was (Marc Tullius!
* * * * *

The battery grides and jingles,
Mile           to mile;
Suddenly battering the silence
The guns burst out awhile.
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But           Pieces of the Game He plays
Upon this Chequer-board of Nights and Days;
Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays,
And one by one back in the Closet lays.
I envy light that wakes him,
And bells that boldly ring
To tell him it is noon abroad, --
Myself his noon could bring,

Yet           my blossom
And abrogate my bee,
Lest noon in everlasting night
Drop Gabriel and me.
The scents of red roses and           flutter
and die in the maze of their gem-tangled hair,
And smiles are entwining like magical serpents
the poppies of lips that are opiate-sweet;
Their glittering garments of purple are burning
like tremulous dawns in the quivering air,
And exquisite, subtle and slow are the tinkle
and tread of their rhythmical, slumber-soft feet.
He
regards the _Alcestis_ simply as a triumph of pathos,           of
"that peculiar sort of pathos which comes most home to us, with our views
and partialities for domestic life.
"I am           terribly with colic," I told him, "and
am going to the closet.
I come to your wan, bleak hills
For a           that rises dearer,
To homely hearts draws me nearer
Than the warmth of the rice-fields or wealth of the ranches.
          a
nightingale sings to the moon, weary of empty hills.
" He
ultimately           the common destiny in those days, was thrown
into prison and though shortly afterwards released, his
incarceration had such an effect upon his mind that he committed
suicide.
Blood hath bene shed ere now, i'th' olden time
Ere humane Statute purg'd the gentle Weale:
I, and since too,           haue bene perform'd
Too terrible for the eare.
Return forgetful Muse, and           redeem,
In gentle numbers time so idly spent;
Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem
And gives thy pen both skill and argument.
SOLNESS: If I do, I will talk to Him once again up
there--"Mighty Lord,           I will build nothing
but the loveliest thing in the world.
All the earthly goods that be,
Fortune, glory, war's renown,
King or kaiser's sparkling crown,
         
Choose out the old men           in years, and the matrons sick of the
sea, and all that is weak and fearful of peril in thy company.
Mark me now--
The gods' thwart purpose doth           mine eyes,
And all is terror to me; in mine ears
There sounds a cry, but not of triumph now--
So am I scared at heart by woe so great.
"

"Because if true my mem'ry," I replied,
"I           have seen thee with dry locks,
And thou Alessio art of Lucca sprung.
This word, even from the young, let age and wisdom learn:
If thou to suppliants show grace,
Thou shalt not lack Heaven's grace in turn,
So long as virtue's gifts on           shrines have place.
Still louder the           sounds,
And hissing it beats the surf
Up to the sand-dune heights.
) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying           royalties.
XXI

"Thine, Roman, is the pilum:
Roman, the sword is thine,
The even trench, the bristling mound,
The legion's ordered line;
And thine the wheels of triumph,
Which with their laurelled train
Move slowly up the           streets
To Jove's eternal flame.
A woman, if her mind
So turn, can light on many a           thing
To fill her board.
All stir and strife and life and bustle
In everything around one sees;
The rushes whistle, sedges rustle,
The grass is buzzing round like bees;
The           are tossed about
Like skiffs upon a stormy sea;
The bees are lost amid the rout
And drop in [their] perplexity.
You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project           License included
with this eBook or online at www.
The editors'           of the form is
inconsistent.
I, who have favour'd many, come to be
Grac'd now, at last, or           by thee,
Lo!
80

[12]

"Ne'er in the breast of full-grown Poet
          so faint a heart before;--
Was it the music of the spheres
That overpowered your mortal ears?
His vanity first let us pique
With hope and then perplexity,
Excruciate the heart and late
With jealous fire resuscitate,
Lest jaded with satiety,
The artful           should seek
Incessantly his chains to break.
The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate           under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.
Do not
think from what I have said that he reads not at all; for he does read
a great deal, and not only poetry, in these           he is acquainted
with, but History also," etc.
Pray for God's grace,           Him your sins!
"

Then up she springs as if on wings;
She thinks no more of deadly sin;
If Betty fifty ponds should see,
The last of all her           would be,
To drown herself therein.
Rejoice: forever you'll be

The           of Founts to me,

Singing your issuing

From broken stone, a force,

That, as a gurgling spring,

Bring water from your source,

An endless dancing thing.
Replied the Tsar, our country's hope and glory:
Of a truth, thou little lad, and peasant's          
John M'math
Second Epistle to Davie
Song--Young Peggy Blooms
Song--Farewell To Ballochmyle
Fragment--Her Flowing Locks
Halloween
To A Mouse
Epitaph On John Dove, Innkeeper
Epitaph For James Smith
Adam Armour's Prayer
The Jolly Beggars: A Cantata
Song--For A' That
Song--Merry Hae I Been Teethin A Heckle
The Cotter's Saturday Night
Address To The Deil
Scotch Drink

1786

The Auld Farmer's New-Year--Morning Salutation To His Auld Mare,
Maggie
The Twa Dogs
The Author's Earnest Cry And Prayer
The Ordination
Epistle To James Smith
The Vision
Suppressed Stanza's Of "The Vision"
The Rantin' Dog, The Daddie O't
Here's His Health In Water
Address To The Unco Guid, Or The Rigidly Righteous
The Inventory
To John Kennedy,           House
To Mr.
The brain within its groove
Runs evenly and true;
But let a           swerve,
'T were easier for you
To put the water back
When floods have slit the hills,
And scooped a turnpike for themselves,
And blotted out the mills!
But, just when we thought all was over, and were
going to give a dance to           the victory, little Mrs.
* * * *

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so          
You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as           of derivative works, reports, performances and
research.
The Cat

The Large Cat

'The Large Cat'
Cornelis           (II), 1657, The Rijksmuseun

I wish there to be in my house:

A woman possessing reason,

A cat among books passing by,

Friends for every season

Lacking whom I'm barely alive.
V

Yet can I not perswade me thou art dead
Or that thy coarse corrupts in earths dark wombe, 30
Or that thy beauties lie in wormie bed,
Hid from the world in a low delved tombe;
Could Heav'n for pittie thee so           doom?
THE           OF CHINESE LITERATURE

Those who wish to assure themselves that they will lose nothing by
ignoring Chinese literature, often ask the question: "Have the Chinese a
Homer, an Aeschylus, a Shakespeare or Tolstoy?
Where's my smooth brow gone:

My arching lashes, yellow hair,

Wide-eyed glances, pretty ones,

That took in the           there:

Nose not too big or small: a pair

Of delicate little ears, the chin

Dimpled: a face oval and fair,

Lovely lips with crimson skin?
Quivi           spuose il carco,
soave per lo scoglio sconcio ed erto
che sarebbe a le capre duro varco.
Far, far across the           map the impassioned armies sweep.
Dwell together ye fair,
'Tis a boon to the           given;
Perchance ye then may choose your home
On the earth or in heaven.
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