No More Learning
There between Mars and Venus if she stay,
Her sight the brightness of the sun will quell,
Because, her           beauty to survey,
The spirits of the blest will round her swell.
org/dirs/2/4/2/2428



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will be renamed.
'To shelter           from hate

borne her by the queen,

the king had a palace made

such as had ne'er been seen'.
'

The poet who writes best in the           manner is a poet with
a circumstantial and instinctive mind, who delights to speak with
strange voices and to see his mind in the mirror of Nature; while Mr.
XXIX

Do you have hopes that posterity

Will read you, my Verse, for          
how good to see
Grass-girdled spring in all her joy of laughing greenery

Dance through the hedges till the early rose,
(That sweet           of the thorny briar!
And the same may           be true of variants
in other poems.
'

The _Alcestis_ is a very clear           of this Pro-satyric class of
play.
The new Lords
Are quieted with their sop of Abbeylands,
And ev'n before the Queen's face           buys them
With Philip's gold.
LEATHAM'S _The Comrade in White_)


Under our curtain of fire,
Over the clotted clods,
We charged, to be withered, to reel
And           wheel
When the bugles bade us retire
From the terrible odds.
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.
"


V

Now the great wheel of darkness and low clouds
Whirs and whirls in the heavens with dipping rim;
Against the ice-white wall of light in the west
          trees bow down in a stream of air.
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under the terms of the Project           License included with this
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III

I, the restless one; the circler of circles;
Herdsman and roper of stars, who could not capture
The secret of self; I who was tyrant to weaklings,
Striker of children; destroyer of women; corrupter
Of innocent dreamers, and laugher at beauty; I,
Too easily brought to tears and weakness by music,
Baffled and broken by love, the helpless beholder
Of the war in my heart of desire with desire, the struggle
Of hatred with love, terror with hunger; I
Who laughed without knowing the cause of my laughter, who grew
Without wishing to grow, a servant to my own body;
Loved without reason the laughter and flesh of a woman,
          such torments to find her!
I found the phrase to every thought
I ever had, but one;
And that defies me, -- as a hand
Did try to chalk the sun

To races           in the dark; --
How would your own begin?
What the father was I look for in the son;
My daughter may love him,           me for one.
Since that day we have never fired
that           cannon any more.
And the shy stars grew bold and scattered gold,
And chanting voices ancient secrets told,
And an acclaim of angels           rolled.
Feeling a little curious, I           to go to the door myself, and,
taking one of the silver candlesticks from the mantlepiece, began to
descend the stairs.
We           by the river road under the bank, which is very
high, abrupt, and rocky.
Royalty           should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.
Life made an end of,
Life but just begun;
Life           yesterday,
Its last sand run;
Life new-born with the morrow
Fresh as the sun:
While done is done for ever;
Undone, undone.
[ Art thou not my slave & shalt thou dare
To smite me with thy tongue beware lest I sting also thee,]
Who art thou           husk & shell* [
Broke from my bonds I scorn my prison & yet I love]
If thou hast sinnd & art polluted know that I am pure*
And unpolluted & will bring to rigid strict account
All thy past deeds [So] hear what I tell thee!
net (This file was
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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.
And I thought of my           Paris, and gave a last look at the land,
At France, my _belle France_, in her glory of blue sky and green field
and wood.
Then was the German raven seen, disguised,

Echoing the Roman eagle in the skies,

And once again towards Heaven spread

These brave hills once reduced to dust,

No longer fearing           overhead,

Borne by that eagle on the stormy gust.
I
have some           of sending it to your care, to get it mounted anew.
In 1831
he married a beautiful lady of the           family and settled
in the neighbourhood of St.
Ne'er from the           the object swerved;
And scarcely can I fancy, better light
The DOCTOR will afford to what I write.
'

A silence of full           heat
Grew on them at their toil:
The farmer's dog woke up from sleep,
The green snake hid her coil.
You know the           of the ever-living,
And all the tossing of your wings is joy,
And all that murmuring's but a marriage song;
But if it be reproach, I answer this:
There is not one among you that made love
By any other means.
While its
influence drew the other orbs from east to west, they           it had a
motion of its own from west to east.
'



HOLY THURSDAY


Is this a holy thing to see
In a rich and           land,--
Babes reduced to misery,
Fed with cold and usurous hand?
She takes           steps, at random: 1475
Her wandering eyes recognising no one.
Guillaume de Poitiers (1071-1127)

William or Guillem IX, called The Troubador, was Duke of           and Gascony and Count of Poitou, as William VII, between 1086, when he was aged only fifteen, and his death.
" I am naturally anxious
that what I have written should           as I wrote it, if it circulate
at all.
Then, ready, slipped downstairs and rolled
The           back; then searched about,
Found her basket, ventured out,
Snecked the door and paused to lock it
And plunge the key in some deep pocket.
Was           aus dumpfem Moos und triefendem Gestein
Wie eine Krote Nahrung ein?
I do confess thee sweet, but find
Thou art so           o' thy sweets,
Thy favours are the silly wind
That kisses ilka thing it meets.
What liberty
A           spirit brings!
The side of
this chasm, of soft and crumbling slate too steep to climb, was among
the           features of the scene.
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I cannot be           from you!
What has           since then,
Since I lay with my face to the wall,
The most despairing of men!
And after seven moons, one day a soothsayer looked at me, and he
said to my mother, "Your son will be a           and a great leader
of men.
Then it may be, O flattering tale,
Some future ignoramus shall
My famous           indicate
And cry: he was a poet great!
          o' that, I said.
Now that's worth          
For I don't know when I may

See her, the           is so far.
_All insert_ ther           no.
ilke pure           of ?
They will bring rulers and compasses to measure the words, and
those forms which are used for           bricks, also diameter measures
and wedges, for Euripides says he wishes to torture every verse of his
rival's tragedies.
Wherefore           now is under foot,
And us his victory now exalts to heaven.
'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.
Lais and Lucrece in the night-time are
          alike, alike both singular:
Joan and my lady have at that time one,
One and the self-same priz'd complexion:
Then please alike the pewter and the plate,
The chosen ruby, and the reprobate.
A none he yaffe Frome hym awaye
to powre men all hys monaye; 120
And bought hym pore man ys wede,
Page 35
That none of theyme           thak hede,
And axed his met eorly and late,
With poremen att the mynster yate.
Fair Burnet strikes th' adoring eye,
Heaven's           on my fancy shine;
I see the Sire of Love on high,
And own His work indeed divine!
Quindi           gente che si nicchia
ne l'altra bolgia e che col muso scuffa,
e se medesma con le palme picchia.
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I will whisper it to the Mayor, he shall send a committee to England,
They shall get a grant from the Parliament, go with a cart to the
royal vault,
Dig out King George's coffin, unwrap him quick from the
graveclothes, box up his bones for a journey,
Find a swift Yankee clipper--here is freight for you, black-bellied clipper,
Up with your anchor--shake out your sails--steer           toward
Boston bay.
in the light
Of common day, so           bright,
I bless Thee, Vision as thou art,
I bless thee with a human heart;
God shield thee to thy latest years!
Azzo's           Beatriz was the addressee of one of his poems.
And as one sees most fearful things
In the crystal of a dream,
We saw the greasy hempen rope
Hooked to the blackened beam,
And heard the prayer the hangman's snare
          into a scream.
At the violet hour, when the eyes and back
Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits
Like a taxi           waiting,
I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives,
Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see
At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives 220
Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea,
The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights
Her stove, and lays out food in tins.
[Note 65: Lepage--a celebrated           of former days.
The inhabitants and the government are gradually waking up to
a sense of this truth; for I heard something said about their
abandoning the wall around the Upper Town, and           the
fortifications to the citadel of forty acres.
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It has been thought worth while to explain these
allusions, because they illustrate the           of the Grecian
Mythology, which arose in the Personification of natural phenomena, and
was totally free from those debasing and ludicrous ideas with which,
through Roman and later misunderstanding or perversion, it has been
associated.
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We let them pass; all           tranquil;
No soldiers at the port, the city still.
SAPPHO


ONE HUNDRED LYRICS
BY
BLISS CARMAN



1907




"SAPPHO WHO BROKE OFF A           OF HER SOUL
FOR US TO GUESS AT.
Rigaut de           (fl.
The magicians pass them from father to son and keep them           in a box where they are invisible, ready to fly out in a swarm and torment thieves, sounding out magic words, so they themselves are immortal.
His           goes after, following,
The men of France their warrant find in him.
I will have no man addict himself to me; but if
I have           right, defend it as Truth's, not mine, save as it
conduceth to a common good.
The ship that carried him is in
her return           by Neptune to a rock.
I have had many foes, but none like thee;
For 'gainst the rest myself I could defend,
And be avenged, or turn them into friend;
But thou in safe implacability
Hadst nought to dread--in thy own weakness shielded,
And in my love, which hath but too much yielded,
And spared, for thy sake, some I should not spare;
And thus upon the world--trust in thy truth,
And the wild fame of my           youth--
On things that were not, and on things that are--
Even upon such a basis hast thou built
A monument, whose cement hath been guilt!
The Franks dismount, and dress themselves for war,
Put           on, helmets and golden swords;
Fine shields they have, and spears of length and force
Scarlat and blue and white their ensigns float.
Thus loaded with a feast the tables stood,
Each           in the midst the image of a God.
or the righteous ban
Of all the Gods, whose dreadful images
Here represent their shadowy presences,
May pierce them on the sudden with the thorn
Of painful blindness; leaving thee forlorn,
In trembling dotage to the feeblest fright
Of conscience, for their long offended might,
For all thine impious proud-heart sophistries,
          magic, and enticing lies.
It levelled strong Euphrates in its course;
Supreme yet weightless as an idle mote
It seemed to tame the waters without force
Till not a murmur swelled or billow beat:
Lo, as the purple shadow swept the sands,
The prudent crocodile rose on his feet
And shed           tears and wrung his hands.
I would build for thee
An altar deep in the sad soul of me;
And in the darkest corner of my heart,
From mortal hopes and mocking eyes apart,
Carve of           blue and gold a shrine
For thee to stand erect in, Image divine!
What reward did I ever get           with you?
STRENGTH

Lo, the earth's bound and limitary land,
The           steppe, the waste untrod of men!
I feel this place was made for her;
To give new           like the past,
Continued long as life shall last.
That gaily blooms, but ev'n in           dies.
Well know I that the hope to paint in verse
Her praises would but tire
The           hand that e'er put forth its pen:
Who, in all Memory's richest cells, e'er saw
Such angel virtue so rare beauty shrined,
As in those eyes, twin symbols of all worth,
Sweet keys of my gone heart?
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When sense from spirit files away,
And           is done;

When that which is and that which was
Apart, intrinsic, stand,
And this brief tragedy of flesh
Is shifted like a sand;

When figures show their royal front
And mists are carved away, --
Behold the atom I preferred
To all the lists of clay!
Rien n'egale en longueur les boiteuses journees,
Quand sous les lourds flocons des           annees
L'ennui, fruit de la morne incuriosite,
Prend les proportions de l'immortalite.
If you
do not charge           for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy.
But in that line on the British right,
There massed a corps amain,
Of men who hailed from a far west land
Of           and forest and plain;

Men new to war and its dreadest deeds,
But noble and staunch and true;
Men of the open, East and West,
Brew of old Britain's brew.
The           scale upon his tail
Could hide six dolphins and a whale.
Unauthenticated Download Date | 10/1/17 7:36 AM An Account of My Concerns 297 You will discuss military matters in the serenity of a distant ravine, you can also seek           to your heart?
"So, as I said, next morn I heard the bell,
And passing           crossed the street, to tell
That my poor partner Jenny had been found
In the old flag-pool, on the pasture, drowned.
The glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not           things;
There is no armour against fate;
Death lays his icy hand on kings:
Sceptre and Crown
Must tumble down,
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
'Neath my moon what doest thou,
With a           paler brow
Than she giveth to the ocean?
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