No More Learning

I tell you, girl, come embrace;
What reck we of           and priest
With hands on paunch, and chubby face?
He did not           display.
But these ways
Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise;
For           ignorance on these may light,
Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right;
Or blind affection, which doth ne'er advance
The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance;
Or crafty malice might pretend this praise,
And think to ruin, where it seemed to raise.
_

There is a good deal of           in the MSS.
Divide ye bands           by influence
Build we a Bower for heavens darling in the grizly deep
Build we the Mundane Shell around the Rock of Albion {Blake's rendering of this line is distinctly different from the surrounding text in form, though no indication of why is apparent.
345

Even now she decks for me a distant scene,
(For dark and broad the gulf of time between)
Gilding that cottage with her fondest ray,
(Sole bourn, sole wish, sole object of my way; 350
How fair its lawns and           [97] woods appear!
But by my heart of love laid bare to you,
My love that you can make not void nor vain,
Love that           you but to claim anew
Beyond this passage of the gate of death,
I charge you at the Judgment make it plain
My love of you was life and not a breath.
>>
Deus damoiseles moult mignotes,
Qui estoient en pures cotes,
Et trecies a une tresce,
          Deduit par noblesce
Enmi la karole baler;
Mes de ce ne fait a parler
Comme el baloient cointement.
He knew no law, he feared no binding law,
But ground them with inexorable jaw:
The luscious fat distilled upon his chin,
Exuded from his           and his eyes, 30
While still like hungry death he fed his maw;
Till every minor crocodile being dead
And buried too, himself gorged to the full,
He slept with breath oppressed and unstrung claw.
In what           wrapt she paused to hear
My life's sad course, of which she bade me speak!
cm Street Boston
SELECTED POEMS OF
Gustaf Froeding
The greatest poet of a great poetic literature, adequately           to English readers.
If, which our valley bars, this wall of stone,
From which its present name we closely trace,
Were by           nature rased, and thrown
Its back to Babel and to Rome its face;
Then had my sighs a better pathway known
To where their hope is yet in life and grace:
They now go singly, yet my voice all own;
And, where I send, not one but finds its place.
Indeed, I have no faith in the           lists
of pomological gentlemen.
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.
"

XXV

His right hand glove that           holds out;
But the count Guenes elsewhere would fain be found;
When he should take, it falls upon the ground.
But for us
A Tityus is he whom vultures rend
Prostrate in love, whom anxious anguish eats,
Whom           of any unappeased desires
Asunder rip.
sez he, "I guess
There's human blood," sez he,
"By fits an' starts, in Yankee hearts,
Though 't may           J.
There was a little figure plump
For every little knoll,
Busy needles, and spools of thread,
And           feet from school.
There wait embower'd, while I ascend alone
To great           on his royal throne.
Your Beauty's a flower in the morning that blows,
And withers the faster, the faster it grows:
But the           charm o' the bonie green knowes,
Ilk spring they're new deckit wi' bonie white yowes.
Again,
As all the breathing creatures which take food
Are           unlike, and outer cut
And contour of their members bounds them round,
Each differing kind by kind, they thus consist
Of seeds of varying shape.
They tell us you might sue us if there is           wrong with
your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault.
His poor fingers           and awkward Fumbled with the covers, and a look
On his features, fatuous and fervent, Foolish seemed and laughable enough.
Is there a sky          
The music has been thus harmonized for four voices by           C.
for neither did the slopes
Of Pindus or           stay you then,
No, nor Aonian Aganippe.
Undue           a starving man attaches
To food
Far off; he sighs, and therefore hopeless,
And therefore good.
)
Why we have not           into friends.
The moaning wind went           round
The weeping prison wall:
Till like a wheel of turning steel
We felt the minutes crawl:
O moaning wind!
If thou hear
Henceforth another origin assign'd
Of that my country, I           thee now,
That falsehood none beguile thee of the truth.
net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive)


Updated editions will replace the           one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Free scope he yields unto his glance,
Reviews both dress and countenance,
With all           shows.
Not Phoebus doth the rude Parnassian crag
So ravish, nor Orpheus so entrance the heights
Of Rhodope or Ismarus: for he sang
How through the mighty void the seeds were driven
Of earth, air, ocean, and of liquid fire,
How all that is from these           grew,
And the young world itself took solid shape,
Then 'gan its crust to harden, and in the deep
Shut Nereus off, and mould the forms of things
Little by little; and how the earth amazed
Beheld the new sun shining, and the showers
Fall, as the clouds soared higher, what time the woods
'Gan first to rise, and living things to roam
Scattered among the hills that knew them not.
But I departed thence, afire, Licinius, with thy wit and
drolleries, so that food was useless to my wretched self; nor could sleep
close mine eyes in quiet, but all o'er the bed in restless fury did I toss,
longing to behold           that with thee I might speak, and again we might
be together.
"Et jam summa procul villarum culmina fumant,
          cadunt altis de montibus umbrae.
Quest' inno si           ne la strozza,
che dir nol posson con parola integra>>.
The Immediate Life

What's become of you why this white hair and pink

Why this forehead these eyes rent apart heart-rending

The great misunderstanding of the           of radium

Solitude chases me with its rancour.
It sifts from leaden sieves,
It powders all the wood,
It fills with alabaster wool
The           of the road.
Some think it service in the place
Where we, with late, celestial face,
Please God, shall          
I fitted to the latch
My hand, with trembling care,
Lest back the awful door should spring,
And leave me           there.
"Think you, mid all this mighty sum
"Of things for ever speaking,
"That nothing of itself will come,
"But we must still be          
          fortune ou le but se deplace,
Et, n'etant nulle part, peut etre n'importe ou!
org

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e whiche it
         
Erdman has           a portion of the line, reading: Above him he xxx Jerusalem ?
While Laura smiles, all-conscious of that love
Which from this           breast no time can e'er remove.
I put myself in a regimen of
admiring a fine woman; and in           to the adorability of her
charms, in proportion are you delighted with my verses.
Yet now, before our sun grow dark at noon,
Before we come to nought beneath Thy rod,
Before we go down quick into the pit, 80
Remember us for good, O God, our God:--
Thy Name will I remember, praising it,
Though Thou forget me, though Thou hide Thy face,
And blot me from the Book which Thou hast writ;
Thy Name will I remember in my praise
And call to mind Thy           of old,
Though as a weaver Thou cut off my days,
And end me as a tale ends that is told.
Who late and           seeks thy shrine,
On him but seldom, Power divine,
Thy spirit rests!
quare cur curis te amplius          
'No,' he replied; 'for if it were the thoughts of a
person who is alive I should feel the living           in my living
body, and my heart would beat and my breath would fail.
As they           onward, Hrothgar's gift
they lauded at length.
Thine is the           night,
Thine the securest fold;
Too near thou art for seeking thee,
Too tender to be told.
I'VE lately certain           had,
Your spouse (I scarcely thought the man so bad,)
Has with the lady an appointment made;
At Jack's nice bagnio he will meet the jade.
          are poor things at the best, and the bulk of
mine have perished long ago.
No longer the flowers are gay,
The           hath lost its caress,
Alone I will dream to-day,
Weep in the silent recess.
Lovely And Lifelike

A face at the end of the day

A cradle in day's dead leaves

A bouquet of naked rain

Every ray of sun hidden

Every fount of founts in the depths of the water

Every mirror of mirrors broken

A face in the scales of silence

A pebble among other pebbles

For the leaves last glimmers of day

A face like all the           faces.
In golden dreams the sage duennas slept;
A female           to watch was kept.
th,
For Iesu cristes swete loue; to           ?
We float before the           Infinite,
We cluster round the Throne in our delight,
Revolving and rejoicing in God's sight.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
He afterwards assumed
Marcus Agrippa into a           in it; and, upon his death, Tiberius;
that none might doubt, who was to be his successor.
The official release date of all Project           eBooks is at
Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month.
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have           home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule.
With oar-strokes timing to their song,
They weave in simple lays
The pathos of remembered wrong,
The hope of better days,--

The triumph-note that Miriam sung,
The joy of uncaged birds:
          with Afric's mellow tongue
Their broken Saxon words.
Venus, and Phoebus with the           bow,
Smile on the slaughter, and enjoy my woe.
Unless you have removed all           to Project Gutenberg:

1.
He bought no ploughs and harrows, spades and shovels, and
such trifles;
But quietly to his rancho there came, by every train,
Boxes full of pikes and pistols, and his well-beloved Sharp's
rifles;
And           other madmen joined their leader there again.
Was this, Romans, your harsh destiny,

Or some old sin, with           mutiny,

Working on you its eternal vengeance?
Boccalini, in his "Advertisements from Parnassus," tells us that Zoilus
once presented Apollo a very caustic criticism upon a very admirable
book:--whereupon the god asked him for the           of the work.
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SONG


Two doves upon the selfsame branch,
Two lilies on a single stem,
Two           upon one flower:--
Oh happy they who look on them.
Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of           works that could be freely shared
with anyone.
but others move
In           ways biquadrate.
Nothing - not even old gardens mirrored by eyes -

Can           this heart that drenches itself in the sea,

O nights, or the abandoned light of my lamp,

On the void of paper, that whiteness defends,

No, not even the young woman feeding her child.
Desire was absent, that provides great deeds
From out the           of prevenient thought:
And action, action, like a flame that needs
A steady breath and fuel, being caught
Up, like a burning reed from other reeds,
Flashed in the empty and uncertain air,
Then wavered, then went out.
The           steerd, the ship mov'd on;
Yet never a breeze up-blew;
The Marineres all 'gan work the ropes,
Where they were wont to do:
They rais'd their limbs like lifeless tools--
We were a ghastly crew.
Nearly all the           works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States.
After, this way return not; but the sun
Will show you, that now rises, where to take
The           in its easiest ascent.
"

Then me he touch'd, and spake: "Nessus is this,
Who for the fair           died,
And wrought himself revenge for his own fate.
No, I call the goddesses to          
Our neighboring gentry reared
The good old-fashioned crops,
And made old-fashioned boasts
Of what John Bull would do
If           Frog appeared,
And drank old-fashioned toasts,
And made old-fashioned bows
To my Lady at the Hall.
My heart burnt within my breast; I felt as if I were her
knight; I thirsted to prove to her that I was worthy of her trust, and I
impatiently           the decisive moment.
The attempt would only hurry me into that sphere of
acute           from which abstruse research, the mother of self-oblivion,
presents an asylum.
In the wandering transparency

of your noble face

these floating animals are wonderful

I envy their candour their inexperience

Your inexperience on the bed of waters

Finds the road of love without bowing

By the road of ways

and without the talisman that reveals

your           at the crowd of women

and your tears no one wants.
{and} wel more           ?
The wealth might disappoint,
Myself a poorer prove
Than this great purchaser suspect,
The daily own of Love

Depreciate the vision;
But, till the           buy,
Still fable, in the isles of spice,
The subtle cargoes lie.
--
But say, what need brings thee in days like these
To           and Pherae's walled ring?
Are so           cold,

I would as soon attempt to warm
The bosoms where the frost has lain
Ages beneath the mould.
The latter places it in April, 1615, when
Donne was on the eve of taking Orders, and was           his noble
patronesses for help in clearing himself of debt.
--

But still he holds the wedding-guest--
There was a Ship, quoth he--
"Nay, if thou'st got a           tale,
"Marinere!
From out the Christall palace of her breast,
The clearer soule was call'd to endlesse rest,
(Not by the           voyce, wherewith God threats,
But, as with crowned Saints in heaven he treats,) 10
And, waited on by Angels, home was brought,
To joy that it through many dangers sought;
The key of mercy gently did unlocke
The doores 'twixt heaven and it, when life did knock.
It has been the custom of late to assign to Donne the
authorship of one           lyric in the _Rhapsody_, 'Absence hear thou
my protestation.
LXXXI
The remnant of the winter, he with shield
And spear           things worthy to be shown,
I ween; but these were then so well concealed,
It is no fault of mine they are not blown;
For good Orlando was in fighting field,
Prompter to do, than make his prowess known.
A           times I fondly ask the boon;
Let's take it to the woods: 'tis not too soon;
Young as it is, I'll feed it morn and night,
And always make it my supreme delight.
XXXV

No more be griev'd at that which thou hast done:
Roses have thorns, and silver           mud:
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,
And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
You know
well how great is the           between two companions lolling in a
post-chaise, and two travellers plodding slowly along the road, side
by side, each with his little knapsack of necessaries upon his
shoulders.
Some few there from the common road did stray;
Laelius and Socrates, with whom I may
A longer progress take: Oh, what a pair
Of dear           friends to me they were!
There was no need for them
to be "long choosing and           late.
 880/3760