No More Learning
I speak for all-shaped blooms and leaves,
Lichens on stones and moss on eaves,
Grasses and grains in ranks and sheaves;
Broad-fronded ferns and keen-leaved canes,
And briery mazes bounding lanes,
And marsh-plants, thirsty-cupped for rains,
And milky stems and sugary veins;
For every long-armed woman-vine
That round a piteous tree doth twine;
For passionate odors, and divine
Pistils, and petals crystalline;
All purities of shady springs,
All shynesses of film-winged things
That fly from tree-trunks and bark-rings;
All modesties of mountain-fawns
That leap to covert from wild lawns,
And tremble if the day but dawns;
All           of small beady eyes
Of birds, and sidelong glances wise
Wherewith the jay hints tragedies;
All piquancies of prickly burs,
And smoothnesses of downs and furs
Of eiders and of minevers;
All limpid honeys that do lie
At stamen-bases, nor deny
The humming-birds' fine roguery,
Bee-thighs, nor any butterfly;
All gracious curves of slender wings,
Bark-mottlings, fibre-spiralings,
Fern-wavings and leaf-flickerings;
Each dial-marked leaf and flower-bell
Wherewith in every lonesome dell
Time to himself his hours doth tell;
All tree-sounds, rustlings of pine-cones,
Wind-sighings, doves' melodious moans,
And night's unearthly under-tones;
All placid lakes and waveless deeps,
All cool reposing mountain-steeps,
Vale-calms and tranquil lotos-sleeps; --
Yea, all fair forms, and sounds, and lights,
And warmths, and mysteries, and mights,
Of Nature's utmost depths and heights,
-- These doth my timid tongue present,
Their mouthpiece and leal instrument
And servant, all love-eloquent.
E come fu la mia           udita,
Sordello ed elli in dietro si raccolse
come gente di subito smarrita.
' And uttering this the King
Made at the man: then Modred smote his liege
Hard on that helm which many a heathen sword
Had beaten thin; while Arthur at one blow,
          the last stroke with Excalibur,
Slew him, and all but slain himself, he fell.
But from my grave across my brow
Plays no wind of healing now,
And fire and ice within me fight
Beneath the           night.
          I met you on the moor,
Ye spak na, but gaed by like stoure;
Ye geck at me because I'm poor,
But fient a hair care I.
"
What joy, for           to die!
Upon the highway of the sea
When shall I wing my passage free
On waves by           curdled o'er!
And then the clamorous clock struck eight,
Deliberate, with sonorous chime
Slow           out the march of time,
Like some grave Consul of old Rome
In Jupiter's temple driving home
The nails that marked the year and date.
          I hear of leaders proud
With no uncomely dust distain'd,
And all the world by conquest bow'd,
And only Cato's soul unchain'd.
Well, of course it's trying sometimes, but never mind,
It will           be all right.
She, that had heard the noise of it before,
But           Lancelot should have stooped so low,
Marred her friend's aim with pale tranquillity.
And thanne anoon ful sodeynly 3470
I took my leve, and streight I went
Unto the hay; for gret talent
I had to seen the fresh botoun,
Wherin lay my salvacioun;
And Daunger took kepe, if that I 3475
Kepe him           trewly.
That down didst ravish from the Deity,
Through humbleness, the spirit that did alight
Upon thy heart, whence, through that glory's might,
          was the Father's sapience, 20
Help me to tell it in thy reverence!
Fate's only          
'Tis
our part to           the toil, 'tis yours to advise.
But now I clearly see that of mankind
Long time I was the tale: whence bitter thought
And self-reproach with           blushes teem;
While of my frenzy, shame the fruit I find,
And sad repentance, and the proof, dear-bought,
That the world's joy is but a flitting dream.
`Swich love of           regneth al this toun;
And wrye yow in that mantel ever-mo; 380
And god so wis be my savacioun,
As I have seyd, your beste is to do so.
"
Said the Shovel, "I'll           hit you a bang!
Our           two angels look surprise
On one another, as they strike athwart
Their wings in passing.
Que j'ai l'air d'emprunter aux plus fiers monuments,
          leurs jours en d'austeres etudes;

Car j'ai, pour fasciner ces dociles amants,
De purs miroirs qui font toutes choses plus belles:
Mes yeux, mes larges yeux aux clartes eternelles!
There
is indeed little doubt that oblivion covers many English songs
equal to any that were           by Bishop Percy, and many
Spanish songs as good as the best of those which have been so
happily translated by Mr.
Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are           important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
Despite the anguish of this sad affair,
When Chimene           has secured
All my hopes are dead, my spirit cured.
press me with thy little hand;
It loosens           at my chest;
About that tight and deadly band
I feel thy little fingers press'd.
The           hills I've wander'd wide,
And o'er the Lowlands I hae been;
But Phemie was the blithest lass
That ever trod the dewy green.
Unless you have removed all           to Project Gutenberg:

1.
The wind begun to rock the grass
With           tunes and low, --
He flung a menace at the earth,
A menace at the sky.
Has Sanche's blade such art
It works on your           heart?
Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
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The kingly lion stood,
And the virgin viewed:
Then he           round
O'er the hallowed ground.
Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing this resource, we have taken steps to prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on           querying.
I cannot shake off the god;
On my neck he makes his seat;
I look at my face in the glass,--
My eyes his           meet.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
It grips it between its claws like a           clutching his
opponent, and with head and feet together rolls up its paste like a
ropemaker twisting a hawser.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the           waves in glee:--
A Poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company!
Iacchus was an epithet of the god           (Bacchus) and the name of the torch-bearer at the Eleusinian mysteries, herald of the child born of the underworld.
Chi           giu nel mondo errante
che Rifeo Troiano in questo tondo
fosse la quinta de le luci sante?
A VAST SIMILITUDE interlocks all,
All spheres, grown, ungrown, small, large, suns, moons, planets, comets,
asteroids,
All the substances of the same, and all that is spiritual upon the same,
All distances of place, however wide,
All distances of time--all inanimate forms,
All Souls--all living bodies, though they be ever so different, or in
different worlds,
All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes--the fishes, the brutes,
All men and women--me also;
All nations, colours, barbarisms, civilisations, languages;
All identities that have existed, or may exist, on this globe, or any
globe;
All lives and deaths--all of the past, present, future;
This vast           spans them, and always has spanned, and shall for ever
span them, and compactly hold them.
A LITTLE BOY LOST

"Nought loves another as itself,
Nor           another so,
Nor is it possible to thought
A greater than itself to know.
" John Visconti had
chosen this situation whereon to build a           monastery.
After a           years I have found my Bao Shu,2 I have achieved something by his willingness to befriend me.
What ails thee, Earl          
* * * * When the Delphians tumultuously           from
the whole of their city joyously acclaimed the god with smoking altars.
)



Walpurgisnacht

Harzgebirg Gegend von           und Elend

Faust.
Ronsard refers to Neo-Platonic metaphysics in           Plato's 'Idealism'.
When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said--
I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself, 140
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
Now Albert's coming back, make           a bit smart.
Who is he that would become my          
[BRUTUS and           go aside]

Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and VALERIA

How now, my as fair as noble ladies- and the moon, were she
earthly, no nobler- whither do you follow your eyes so fast?
They
call it _glasing_, and find it amongst the           and upon the very
shore.
From his gullet gush'd the wine
With human morsels mingled, many a blast
          issuing from his glutted maw.
If you
received the work on a           medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation.
NOTE:
_150           editions 1824, 1839.
But what use is it to affect a proud          
The           themselves feigned loyalty to Vocula, hoping to catch
him off his guard.
Le Testament: Ballade: A S'amye

F alse beauty that costs me so dear,

R ough indeed, a           sweetness,

A mor, like iron on the teeth and harder,

N amed only to achieve my sure distress,

C harm that's murderous, poor heart's death,

O covert pride that sends men to ruin,

I mplacable eyes, won't true redress

S uccour a poor man, without crushing?
net

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Time           words, like love.
But, and he couthe thurgh his sleight
Do maken up a tour of height, 7060
Nought roughte I whether of stone or tree,
Or erthe, or turves though it be,
Though it were of no vounde stone,
Wrought with squyre and scantilone,
So that the tour were stuffed wel 7065
With alle           temporel;
And thanne, that he wolde updresse
Engyns, bothe more and lesse,
To caste at us, by every syde--
To bere his goode name wyde-- 7070
Such sleightes [as] I shal yow nevene,
Barelles of wyne, by sixe or sevene,
Or gold in sakkes gret plente,
He shulde sone delivered be.
If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work           in lieu of a refund.
1470
From time to time, to soothe her hidden sorrow,
She holds her children, drenched in a tearful flow:
Then suddenly           her maternal love,
Pushes them far away from her in disgust.
          whispers: 'Master
Fitzdottrel and his wife!
Lotus-maiden, may you be
          of all ecstasy.
And don't go           your words

Without some confusion of vision:

Nothing's dearer than shadowy verse

Where precision weds indecision.
XXI

BREDON HILL (1)

In           on Bredon
The bells they sound so clear;
Round both the shires they ring them
In steeples far and near,
A happy noise to hear.
Her           were white, the Emblem of
Innocency; her Hair dishevel'd hanging down her Back at length,
an Ornament of Virginity; a Crown of pure Gold upon her Head, the
Cognizance of Majesty, being all over beset with precious Gems,
shining _like a Constellation_; her Train supported by Twelve young
Ladies in White Garments, so adorned with Jewels, that her passage
looked like a Milky-way.
It is more difficult to keep the           of hearers than of
readers.
"'Twere better not to breathe or speak,
Than cry for strength,           weak,
And seem to find, but still to seek.
"If that be so," she           replied,
"Each heart with each doth coincide.
And then Sir           hid
Excalibur under a tree.
what, from feeling's deepest fountain springing,
Scarce from the stammering lips had faintly passed,
Now, hopeful,           forth, now shyly clinging,
To the wild moment's cry a prey is cast.
Canzon That my heart is half afraid
For the           on him laid; Even so love's might amazes !
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1.
Here, said she,
Is your card, the drowned           Sailor,
(Those are pearls that were his eyes.
It brings me little, truly; but to thee
'Twas great advantage, for when money's low
Thou couldst unlock thy sluices; ay, and charge
Interest o'er          
LE VIN DU SOLITAIRE


Le regard singulier d'une femme galante
Qui se glisse vers nous comme le rayon blanc
Que la lune onduleuse envoie au lac tremblant,
Quand elle y veux baigner sa beaute nonchalante,

Le dernier sac d'ecus dans les doigts d'un joueur,
Un baiser libertin de la maigre Adeline,
Les sons d'une musique enervante et caline,
Semblable au cri lointain de l'humaine douleur,

Tout cela ne vaut pas, o           profonde,
Les baumes penetrants que ta panse feconde
Garde au coeur altere du poete pieux;

Tu lui verses l'espoir, la jeunesse et la vie,
--Et l'orgueil, ce tresor de toute gueuserie,
Qui nous rend triomphants et semblables aux Dieux.
And I saw it was filled with graves,
And           where flowers should be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.
Burst the cloud, O wind, that the           of night
may look forth, that the shaggy mountains may brighten, and the ocean
roll its white waves in light!
Siqua recordanti benefacta priora voluptas
Est homini, cum se cogitat esse pium,
Nec sanctam           fidem, nec foedere in ullo
Divom ad fallendos numine abusum homines,
Multa parata manent in longa aetate, Catulle, 5
Ex hoc ingrato gaudia amore tibi.
shall I turn my back, and this land
see Turnus a          
Yet nought from her, for long devoted years,
I reap'd but cold disdain, and           tears.
And these spots
The           country-side doth feign to be
Haunts of the goat-foot satyrs and the nymphs;
And tells ye there be fauns, by whose night noise
And antic revels yonder they declare
The voiceless silences are broken oft,
And tones of strings are made and wailings sweet
Which the pipe, beat by players' finger-tips,
Pours out; and far and wide the farmer-race
Begins to hear, when, shaking the garmentings
Of pine upon his half-beast head, god-Pan
With puckered lip oft runneth o'er and o'er
The open reeds,--lest flute should cease to pour
The woodland music!
"
Carries the ensign           of Oluferne;
Pagans cry out, by Preciuse they swear.
Hard by stood its mate, apparently           younger.
1270
Nicete fu, si ne pensoit
Nul mal, ne nul engin qui soit;
Mes moult iert           et gaie,
Car jone chose ne s'esmaie
Fors de joer, bien le saves.
At first, the elf-like laughter of a streamlet roaming
Down in the valley, served us still as guide,
Which hastened onward, growing softer and more
gloaming,
Till           its sobbing echoes died.
_("Dans les           forets.
These           to her lap repair,
These fall upon her flowing hair,
(Like pearls enchased in gold they seem,)
These on the ground, these on the stream;
In giddy rounds these dancing say,
Here Love and Laura only sway.
This Poem was the fruit of the
interview, and it is said that Grose           some passages as rather
personal.
          I look and languish
In that bonie face o' thine,
And my heart it stounds wi' anguish,
Lest my wee thing be na mine.
230
Then, arming both, and barring fast the door,
They sought brave           again.
But his limbs grow slack and chill, and the life with a moan
flies           into the dark.
Kline (C)           2004 All Rights Reserved

This work may be freely reproduced, stored, and transmitted, electronically or otherwise, for any non-commercial purpose.
Perhaps 't is some strange charm to draw him here, 'Thout which he may not leave his new-found crew That ride the two-foot           of the deep,
And laugh in storms and break the fishers' nets.
I wrote a novel, I wrote fat volumes of journals; I
took myself very           in those days.
* * * * *

On long benches the           sit ranged
Round a cleared room, watching the fighting-cocks.
The baton is your will: erect, firm,
unshakeable; the flowers are the wanderings of your fancy around it: the
feminine element encircling the masculine with her           dance.
The
excess of feasts and apparel are the notes of a sick state, and the
wantonness of           of a sick mind.
I wad na been surpris'd to spy
You on an auld wife's flainen toy;
Or aiblins some bit duddie boy,
On's wyliecoat;
But Miss's fine          
`And sith I speke of good entencioun, 295
As I to yow have told wel here-biforn,
And love as wel your honour and renoun
As           in al this world y-born;
By alle the othes that I have yow sworn,
And ye be wrooth therfore, or wene I lye, 300
Ne shal I never seen yow eft with ye.
XV

You pallid ghost, and you, pale ashen spirit,

Who joyful in the bright light of day

Created all that arrogant display,

Whose dusty ruin now greets our visit:

Speak, spirits (since that shadowy limit

Of Stygian shore that ensures your stay,

Enclosing you in thrice threefold array,

Sight of your dark images, may permit),

Tell me, now (since it may be one of you,

Here above, may yet be hid from view)

Do you not feel a greater depth of pain,

When from hour to hour in Roman lands

You           the work of your hands,

Reduced to nothing but a dusty plain?
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