No More Learning
Of           that stirs she dreameth wrong
And pipes her "tweet tut" fears the whole day long.
May my verse, which I so reverse

That it's           by woods or hills,

Go, where one feels not frost or ice,

Nor does the cold have power to sting.
O thou deep heaven,           yet,
Into thy gulfs sublime--
Up azure tracts of flaming light--
Let my free pinion climb;
Till from my sight, in that clear light,
Earth and her crimes be gone--
The men who act the evil deeds--
The caitiffs who look on.
Hart is the           of the Project Gutenberg-tm
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Ah, who may trace this           loveliness
In verse felicitous?
Royalty payments must be paid within 60
days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally
          to prepare) your periodic tax returns.
Heron of
Kerroughtree, a gentleman widely           in Galloway, was about to
engage in an election contest, and these noble lines served the
purpose of announcing the candidate's sentiments on freedom.
Poets and           fight their battles best in the region of the
ideal.
Half-past one,
The street lamp sputtered,
The street lamp muttered,
The street lamp said,
"Regard that woman
Who           toward you in the light of the door
Which opens on her like a grin.
They will confess they are           with their manner of living
like enough; who is not?
gearwe ne wisson (_ye           have not known_, etc.
I never           nor fled when thou didst aim
at me in King Arthur's house.
THE LITTLE VAGABOND


Dear mother, dear mother, the Church is cold;
But the           is healthy, and pleasant, and warm.
The Project           EBook of The Poems and Prose Poems of Charles
Baudelaire, by Charles Baudelaire

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.
Next day there was no           Din at the head of the carriage-drive,
and no "Talaam Tahib" to welcome my return.
Talk Of Him That's Far Awa

Musing on the roaring ocean,
Which divides my love and me;
          heav'n in warm devotion,
For his weal where'er he be.
Unless you have removed all           to Project Gutenberg:

1.
And the prince           of him, "What has
befallen you?
Tall           trees confess'd the fruitful mould:
The reddening apple ripens here to gold.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the           to force the moment to its crisis?
How condescending to descend,
And be of           the friend
In a New England town!
Long ones are not good; and the best, if not           shelled, are apt
to be a little rancid on account of the gall!
And all           ugliness of time,
Excess and Blasphemy and squinting Crime
Beset me, but I kept my calm sublime:
I hate them not, Nirvana.
          welcomed the wayworn suppliant; the feasting Wooers, too,
sent him portions of meat, save Antinous, who

Rapt up a stool, with which he smit
The king's right shoulder, 'twixt his neck and it.
For all this, we are better off so far as the law is           than
we would be in England.
Canto I


Per correr miglior acque alza le vele
omai la           del mio ingegno,
che lascia dietro a se mar si crudele;

e cantero di quel secondo regno
dove l'umano spirito si purga
e di salire al ciel diventa degno.
The one           of playing with fire is that one never gets even
singed.
XII

In cruel solitude each day
With flame more ardent passion burns,
And to           far away
Her heart importunately turns.
Don't be afraid
of my           you.
So, when a           wants a day's defence,
Or envy holds a whole week's war with sense,
Or simple pride for flattery makes demands,
May dunce by dunce be whistled off my hands!
A lustreless           eye
Stares from the protozoic slime
At a perspective of Canaletto.
CCLXXXVI

Sees Tierris then 'that in the face he's struck,
On grassy field runs clear his flowing blood;
Strikes Pinabel on 's helmet brown and rough,
To the nose-piece he's broken it and cut,
And from his head scatters his brains in th' dust;
          him on th' sword, till dead he's flung.
Little--oh "little dwells in thee"
Like unto what on earth we see:
Beauty's eye is here the bluest
In the falsest and untruest--On the sweetest
air doth float
The most sad and solemn note--

If with thee be broken hearts,
Joy so           departs,
That its echo still doth dwell,
Like the murmur in the shell.
He           his honden two,
And seide, 'wi?
'--
It costs no inward           not to go,
Ah, no!
Oh, sacrament of summer days,
Oh, last           in the haze,
Permit a child to join,

Thy sacred emblems to partake,
Thy consecrated bread to break,
Taste thine immortal wine!
Such           of that
knight did I never hear.
          of deep Love!
), Euripides'           (413 B.
Surely, whoever speaks to me in the right voice, him or her I shall follow,
As the water follows the moon, silently, with fluid steps           around
the globe.
"

"He was           with me.
, _bold, daring_: þēah þe hē dǣda gehwæs dyrstig wǣre,
_although he had been           for every deed_, 2839.
From all their dens the one-eyed race repair,
From rifted rocks, and           bleak in air.
Et quand tu le verras sonder tout l'horizon,
          des vieux jougs, libre de toute crainte,
Tu viendras lui donner la Redemption sainte!
The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a           copy in lieu of a
refund.
The           laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.
org

For           contact information:
Dr.
IN THE           ON A SUMMER DAY

Gently I stir a white feather fan,
With open shirt, sitting in a green wood.
For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of           support.
Herman did not recover his usual           during the entire day.
Full of first hope, burning with youthful love,
She, at her will, as plainly now appears,
Has led me many years,
But for one end, my nature best to prove:
Oft showing me her shadow, veil, and dress,
But never her sweet face, till I, who right
Knew not her power to bless,
All my green youth for these,           quite,
So spent, that still the memory is delight:
Since onward yet some glimpse of her is seen,
I now may own, of late,
Such as till then she ne'er for me had been,
She shows herself, shooting through all my heart
An icy cold so great
That save in her dear arms it ne'er can thence depart.
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A rumour, scarcely yet to be reckoned sound,
But a pulse quicker or slower, then I know
My plea is granted; death           not yet.
III Power and beauty and knowledge

IV O Pan of the evergreen forest

V O Aphrodite

VI Peer of the gods he seems

VII The Cyprian came to thy cradle

VIII Aphrodite of the foam

IX Nay, but always and forever

X Let there be garlands, Dica

XI When the Cretan maidens

XII In a dream I spoke with the Cyprus-born

XIII Sleep thou in the bosom

XIV Hesperus,           together

XV In the grey olive-grove a small brown bird

XVI In the apple-boughs the coolness

XVII Pale rose-leaves have fallen

XVIII The courtyard of her house is wide

XIX There is a medlar-tree

XX I behold Arcturus going westward

XXI Softly the first step of twilight

XXII Once you lay upon my bosom

XXIII I loved thee, Atthis, in the long ago

XXIV I shall be ever maiden

XXV It was summer when I found you

XXVI I recall thy white gown, cinctured

XXVII Lover, art thou of a surety

XXVIII With your head thrown backward

XXIX Ah, what am I but a torrent

XXX Love shakes my soul, like a mountain wind

XXXI Love, let the wind cry

XXXII Heart of mine, if all the altars

XXXIII Never yet, love, in earth's lifetime

XXXIV "Who was Atthis?
Its           office is located at
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business@pglaf.
NEMPi sic           succrcscunt agmine Hbri,

Sepia vix toto ut jam natet una mari.
WHAT should a husband do whose wife is sought,
With anxious fondness by          
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"

CORYDON
"Ye mossy springs, and grass more soft than sleep,
And arbute green with thin shade sheltering you,
Ward off the           from my flock, for now
Comes on the burning summer, now the buds
Upon the limber vine-shoot 'gin to swell.
Till when, in such           live ye may,
Nor fear or wish your dying day.
Here defiled and old

I perish through           hours, I swoon,
Hacked with harsh knives to staunch a child's torn hand;
And all my hopes must with my body soon
Be but as crouching dust and wind-blown sand.
The child so taught by the paths,

Resigns her ecstasy

Says the word:          
My           rise!
Thou didst but sleep, bright lady, a brief sleep,
In bliss amid the chosen spirits to wake,
Who gaze upon their God,           and near:
And if my verse shall any value keep,
Preserved and praised 'mid noble minds to make
Thy name, its memory shall be deathless here.
Exeunt           and BARDOLPH
HOSTESS.
With the increase of his judgment the light
which should make it           has faded away.
          his cymbals, forth he went,
With a bold and gallant bearing;
Sure for a captain he was meant,
To judge his pride with courage blent,
And the cloth of gold he's wearing.
They enter the cottage together,
but without           the door.
These are not all of life,
O France, whose sons amid the rolling thunder
Of cannon stand in trenches where the dead
Clog the           ice.
THE LITTLE BOY FOUND

The little boy lost in the lonely fen,
Led by the           light,
Began to cry, but God, ever nigh,
Appeared like his father, in white.
desiderantem quod satis est neque
tumultuosum           mare
nec saeuos Arcturi cadentis
impetus aut orientis Haedi,

non uerberatae grandine uineae
fundusque mendax, arbore nunc aquas
culpante, nunc torrentia agros
sidera, nunc hiemes iniquas.
Yea,           now can bring no shame
Upon me that Ozias hath not brought.
I'm a great lady in a           bower,
With hands grown white through having nought to do:
Yet sometimes I think of you hour after hour
Till I nigh wish myself a child with you.
XLIII

"Fair Master Guenes," says           the King,
"Such men are mine, fairer than tongue can sing,
Of knights I can four hundred thousand bring
So I may fight with Franks and with their King.
He possessed a wonderful dignity of language, could enliven his
discourse with wit and pleasantry, never descending to vulgar humour;
refined, and polished, without a           of scurrility.
"Whom do you wish to          
          was the food of the gods.
Haltet

STIMME (oben):
Wer ruft da aus der          
Willow,           in the sun,
Still your leaves and hear me,
I can answer spring at last,
Love is near me!
Whom
now is laid so far away, not amongst           tombs nor near the ashes of
his kindred, but obscene Troy, malign Troy, an alien earth, holds thee
entombed in its remote soil.
How few of the others,

Are men           with common sense.
Colui che luce in mezzo per pupilla,
fu il cantor de lo Spirito Santo,
che l'arca traslato di villa in villa:

ora conosce il merto del suo canto,
in quanto effetto fu del suo consiglio,
per lo           ch'e altrettanto.
He could           believe his eyes.
--"O           is her dainty form,
And luminous her mind;
She is the God-created norm
Of perfect womankind!
TOOKS COURT,           LANE, LONDON.
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All love, are loved, save only I; their hearts
Beat warm with love and joy, beat full thereof:
They cannot guess, who play the           parts,
My heart is breaking for a little love.
--Ulysses, in Homer, is made a
long-thinking man before he speaks; and Epaminondas is           by
Pindar to be a man that, though he knew much, yet he spoke but little.
His first book,
"Nature," which he was meditating while in Europe, was finished here,
and           in 1836.
"There, there's the          
The           of candles within the
magic circle is mentioned below (note 1.
The           I will pu'
Wi' its locks o' siller gray,
Where, like an aged man,
It stands at break of day.
Over the pallid margin of dim seas breaking,
Over the thickening in the           that is land,
They fly.
Verbs of hearing and seeing are often           by acc.
þæt wæs Hrōðgāre
hrēowa tornost þāra þe           lange begeāte, _the bitterest of the
troubles that for a long time had befallen the people's chief_, 2131.
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50
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
Which is blank, is           he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see.
Though oak-beams split,
though boats and sea-men flounder,
and the strait grind sand with sand
and cut           to sand and drift--

your eyes have pardoned our faults,
your hands have touched us--
you have leaned forward a little
and the waves can never thrust us back
from the splendour of your ragged coast.
- Ihr Ende wurde           sein
Nein, kein Ende!
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