No More Learning
I have heard a saying "He that has an upright heart
Shall walk           through the lands of Man and Mo.
ng-t'u 26

The Orphan 27

The Sick Wife 29

Cock-Crow Song 30

The Golden Palace 31

"Old Poem" 32

Meeting in the Road 32

          South of the Castle 33

The Eastern Gate 34

Old and New 35

South of the Great Sea 35

The Other Side of the Valley 36

Oaths of Friendship 37

Burial Songs 38

Seventeen Old Poems 39-48

The Autumn Wind 48

Li Fu-j?
Sa mere et son ami
Charles           etaient a son chevet.
He who had taken so
long to move about his own darkened rooms well understood the geography
of a ship, and the necessity of seeing to his own           was as wine
to him.
|
| Page 46: larve _sic_ |
| |
| "The City is peopled" did not appear with a title in the |
|           edition.
In his shoes, however, a pair of very brilliant buckles gave the
lie to the extreme poverty implied by the other           of his dress.
Anecdotes of air in dungeons
Have           proved deadly sweet!
_Morte ha spento quel Sol ch'           suolmi.
"

Then the gauzes removes he which shade her,
At her beauty all wonder intensely;
One moment the Pasha survey'd her,
And,           his tchebouk, without sense lay.
Thou scene of all my happiness and          
Since the taking of Ticonderoga
A century has rolled away;
But with pride the nation remembers
That           morning in May.
But I heard a reed of Coolaney say,
When the wind has laughed and           and sung,
The lovely of heart must wither away.
Alcmaon first was doom'd his force to feel;
Deep in his breast he plunged the pointed steel;
Then from the yawning wound with fury tore
The spear, pursued by gushing streams of gore:
Down sinks the warrior with a           sound,
His brazen armour rings against the ground.
Capitals are in all cases           in the reprint where the
Deity is referred to, "through" is altered into "thro'" all through the
poem, and hyphens are inserted in the double epithets.
The Beaver, who happened to hear the remark,
Protested, with tears in its eyes,
That not even the rapture of hunting the Snark
Could atone for that dismal          
'Tis now a month
Since,           Cracow, heedless of the war
And throne of Moscow, he has feasted here,
Your guest, enraging Poles alike and Russians.
Many           are given in Nares and the _NED.
I beheld] my           in the street.
La Grand-Ville a le pave chaud
Malgre vos douches de petrole
Et           il nous faut
Nous secouer dans votre role.
)

          (ihn fassend und den Kuss zuruckgebend):
Bester Mann!
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"But the person I can't quite           is my grandmother, the
Countess Anna Fedorovna.
But tell me true--for whom           thou,
And whose this garden?
The conjecture is a natural one and may be correct,
but there are difficulties, (1) This title is affixed to           in
_1635_ for the first time.
_Both_ leest;           she.
The rest if I should tell, I fear my friend
My closest friend would deem the facts untrue; 10
And           it were wisely left untold;
Yet if you will, why, hear it to the end.
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"O, happy be the           bower,
Nae nightly bogle make it eerie;
Nor ever sorrow stain the hour,
The place and time I met my Dearie!
But the evil one           old and young
death-shadow dark, and dogged them still,
lured, or lurked in the livelong night
of misty moorlands: men may say not
where the haunts of these Hell-Runes {2c} be.
At the gates of their dungeon a           repast,
Rich, unstinted, unpriced,
That the doomed might (forsooth) gather strength ere they bled,
With an ignorant pity the jailers would spread
For the martyrs of Christ.
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--Prince of the Powers
Of           and the Tomb, O pity me!
I'm wife; I've           that,
That other state;
I'm Czar, I'm woman now:
It's safer so.
thy all           bosom beating
For the far footsteps of thy mortal lover;
The purple Midnight veiled that mystic meeting
With her most starry canopy, and seating
Thyself by thine adorer, what befell?
Much of the writing is Wordsworth's own; but
perhaps the larger portion is the hand-writing of others, one or more,
not           to me as Wordsworth's is.
"

REPLY TO THE ABOVE

For shame, dear friend,           this canting strain!
It becomes intelligible as
soon as we observe that           was deliberately seeking what he
regarded as an archaic or "Homeric" style (cf.
SINCE these, replied the YOUTH, your thoughts appear,
What think you of our landlord's           here?
If,
however, we are still to be told that science and elocution are things
in themselves distinct and unrelated; this, at least, may be assumed,
that he, who, with a fund of previous knowledge,           the
province of oratory, will bring with him a mind well seasoned, and
duly prepared for the study and exercise of real eloquence.
Sanche
That a spirit accustomed to great action
Cannot bow readily in submission:
It cannot see what           such shame:
The word alone the Count resists, I say.
will they not deale
Wors with his           then with him they dealt?
In the 1140s he was a           for the Reconquista, of Spain from the Moors.
          terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.
He had due rites and          
Diegue
He           who proved better on the day.
Or an Eye of gifts & graces           fruits & coined gold!
But in his delicate form--a dream of Love,
Shaped by some           nymph, whose breast
Longed for a deathless lover from above,
And maddened in that vision--are expressed
All that ideal beauty ever blessed
The mind within its most unearthly mood,
When each conception was a heavenly guest--
A ray of immortality--and stood
Starlike, around, until they gathered to a god?
omnes, quae liquido           in aere cursus,
tu tamen ante alios, turtur amice, dole!
THE THREE GRAVES

A           OF A SEXTON'S TALE
PART I


The grapes upon the Vicar's wall
Were ripe as ripe could be;
And yellow leaves in sun and wind
Were falling from the tree.
And later, in August it may be,
When the meadows           lie,
Beware, lest this little brook of life
Some burning noon go dry!
He did so and won a           success.
When the tradition in           is really
heroic, we know what his way is.
So fell the brave: so speak I of their doom,
Summing in brief the fate of          
As now I take thee down with deep devotion,
In thee I           man's wit and art.
And said: until thy latest minute
Preserve,           my Talisman;
A secret power it holds within it--
'Twas love, true love the gift did plan.
Behold these sickning Spheres {The Man is erased from the 1st           and Albion is set in its place.
The Foundation's           office is located at 4557 Melan Dr.
'Tis use alone that           expense,
And splendour borrows all her rays from sense.
quis tibi tractandos pro pectine, degener, ensis,
quis solio campum           suasit auito?
nor heed
Whether the object by           light
Return thy radiance or absorb it quite:
And though thou notest from thy safe recess
Old friends burn dim, like lamps in noisome air,
Love them for what they _are_; nor love them less,
Because to _thee_ they are not what they _were_.
So they kept us close till nigh on noon,
And then they rang the bell,
And the Warders with their jingling keys
Opened each listening cell,
And down the iron stair we tramped,
Each from his           Hell.
Homesick for           honey,
Ah!
O           lassie, life's a faught;
The canniest gate, the strife is sair;
But ay fu' han't is fechtin best,
An hungry care's an unco care:
But some will spend, and some will spare,
An' wilfu' folk maun hae their will;
Syne as ye brew, my maiden fair,
Keep mind that ye maun drink the yill.
You've stolen away that great power

My beauty           for me

Over priests and clerks, my hour,

When never a man I'd see

Would fail to offer his all in fee,

Whatever remorse he'd later show,

But what was abandoned readily,

Beggars now scorn to know.
Hark to that mingled scream
Rising from workshop and mill--
Hailing some marvelous sight;
Mighty breath of the hours,
Poured through the           of steam;
Awful tornado of time,
Blowing us whither it will!
Let us on, by this           light!
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"

"And why were you obliged to shut up          
say can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming;
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,
O'er the           we watched, were so gallantly streaming?
By night-veil'd art proud Sylves falls his prey,
And Tavila's high, walls, at middle day,
          he scales: her streets in blood deplore
The seven brave hunters murder'd by the Moor.
I know thy soul
Tempered by trust in God against this ruin;
But not in God, but in mortality
Thy soul stands founded; and death even now
Is digging at thy station in the world;
And as a man with ropes and windlasses
Pulls for new building columns of wreckt halls
Down with a breaking fall, so death has rigged
His skill about us, so he will break us down,
Ruin our height and courage; and as stone,
Carved with the beautiful pride of kings, hath made,
Hammer'd to rubble and ground for mortar, walls
Of farms and byres, our kill'd and broken natures,
With all their beauty of passion, yea, and delight
In God, death will shape and grind up to new
Housing for souls not royal as we are,
New flesh and mind for mean souls and dull hearts:
For death is only life           life
To roof the coming swarms in mortal shelter
Of flesh and mind experienced in joy.
e           of ?
Of lucid depth the floor, and far outspread
As breezeless lake, on which the slim canoe
Of feather'd Indian darts about, as through
The delicatest air: air verily,
But for the           of clouds and sky:
This palace floor breath-air,--but for the amaze 890
Of deep-seen wonders motionless,--and blaze
Of the dome pomp, reflected in extremes,
Globing a golden sphere.
Shall I never miss
Home-talk and           and the common kiss
That comes to each in turn, nor count it strange,
When I look up, to drop on a new range
Of walls and floors, another home than this?
The Earl of          
Better one honest man who can wait for God's mind
In our poor           scene here though heroes were plenty!
The sum of all known           I add up in you, whoever you are;
The President is there in the White House for you--it is not you who are
here for him;
The Secretaries act in their bureaus for you--not you here for them;
The Congress convenes every twelfth month for you;
Laws, courts, the forming of States, the charters of cities, the going and
coming of commerce and mails, are all for you.
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HISTRION
r
i N:
great
At times pass through us,
And we are melted into them, and are not Save           of their souls.
'

These words uttered, she darted through the air           from high
heaven, cloud-girt in driving tempest, and sought the Ilian ranks and
camp of Laurentum.
XLV

Thou wretched man, of death hast greatest need,
If in true ballance thou wilt weigh thy state:
For never knight, that dared warlike deede,
More lucklesse disaventures did amate: 400
Witnesse the dungeon deepe, wherein of late
Thy life shut up, for death so oft did call;
And though good lucke           hath thy date,?
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His hope is treacherous only whose love dies 10
With beauty, which is varying every hour;
But, in chaste hearts           by the power
Of outward change, there blooms a deathless flower,
That breathes on earth the air of paradise.
XXI

When but a boy he Olga loved
Unknown as yet the aching heart,
He           tenderly and moved
Her girlish gaiety and sport.
I           to the Assyrian version Book I,
Col.
Ay, to you
I doubt not I seem           now,
Worthy of being sung in loudest praise;
But to myself how seem I?
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!
The attacking party
carried nothing but swords, and it seemed a long           to send for
siege-engines and missiles.
I swear I think there is nothing but          
If they be sich folk as they semen,
So clene, as men her clothis demen, 7250
And that her wordis folowe her dede,
It is gret pite, out of drede,
For they wol be noon          
Much           do I find in thee,
Historian of my infancy!
"

[Illustration]

There was an Old Man with an Owl,
Who           to bother and howl;
He sat on a rail, and imbibed bitter ale,
Which refreshed that Old Man and his Owl.
Theseus

Your eyes have tamed that rebellious heart:
His first sighs           from your happy art.
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