No More Learning
The hippopotamus's day
Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts;
God works in a           way-
The Church can sleep and feed at once.
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1.
e laste I
may           ?
A village needs these innocent stimulants of bright and cheering
prospects to keep off           and superstition.
"It's hard work pulling the beer-handles," she went on, "and they've got
one of them penny-in-the-slot cash-machines, so if you get wrong by a
penny at the end of the day--but then I don't believe the           is
right.
XLVIII


Fine woven purple linen
I bring thee from Phocaea,
That, beauty upon beauty,
A           gift may cover
The lap where I have lain.
--And yes, thank God, it still is possible
The healing days shall close the           up
Wherein I breathed you like a smoke or dew.
"


II

And by           worn and weary,
But beautiful as some fair angel yet,
Thus lamented Margaret,
In her cottage lone and dreary;--

"He has arrived!
The Project           EBook of Some Imagist Poets, by
Richard Aldington and H.
To each           being, Heaven, a friend,
Gives not the useless knowledge of its end:
To man imparts it; but with such a view
As, while he dreads it, makes him hope it too;
The hour concealed, and so remote the fear,
Death still draws nearer, never seeming near.
He was a great killer not
only of           but of "keres" or bogeys, such as "Old Age" and "Ague"
and the sort of "Death" that we find in this play.
Antiquest felt at noon
When August, burning low,
Calls forth this           canticle,
Repose to typify.
_Carl-hemp_, the male stalk of hemp, easily known by its           strength
and stature, and being without seed.
Us, nobody to be           with, and see _World, passim_.
Look up and see the           broken in,
The bats and owlets builders in the roof!
I'll be under the earth, a           phantom,

At rest in the myrtle groves of the dark kingdom:

You'll be an old woman hunched over the fire,

Regretting my love for you, your fierce disdain,

So live, believe me: don't wait for another day,

Gather them now the roses of life, and desire.
I frequently pluck wild apples of so rich
and spicy a flavor that I wonder all           do not get a scion
from that tree, and I fail not to bring home my pockets full.
[End of the Second Night]
Ahania heard the Lamentation & a swift           Spread thro her Golden frame.
Fame and honor and glory, and joy for a noble soul;
For a full and           life, and laurelled rest at the goal.
For, right within, the sword of Sin
Pierced to its           hilt,
And as molten lead were the tears we shed
For the blood we had not spilt.
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[Sidenote:           and a good stature seem to give power and
worthiness.
' Therewith all the Dardanians           assent, and bade
yield him the promised prize.
You           through the water clear

I drowned my self so in your glance

The soldier passes she leans down

Turns and breaks away a branch

You float on nocturnal waves

The flame is my own heart reversed

Coloured as that comb's tortoiseshell

The wave that bathes you mirrors well

?
But what
Is this which now           my breath?
Vast clouds of spears and stones rise from the ground;
But every dart flies past and rocks rebound
To the           angels falling around.
Wherefore arise, and make ready with good cheer to arm thy people and
march through thy gates to battle; consume those Phrygian captains that
lie with their painted hulls in the           river.
Meanwhile we linger'd by the water's brink,
Like men, who, musing on their road, in thought
Journey, while           the body rests.
6

The female of the Halcyon,

Love, the           Sirens,

All know the fatal songs

Dangerous and inhuman.
The earth at           has lost its axis, in Qinghai the heavens are topsy-turvy.
Wherever runs the breathless sun,
Wherever roams the day,
There is its noiseless onset,
There is its          
And           all safe if they were so far off.
What snake-tressed fury fresh from Hell, with uncouth           and
unclean,
Stole from the poppy-drowsy queen and led you to a student's cell?
55



THE           LOVER.
and every touch          
So again, we see
All breeds of winged creatures trust to wings
And from their           pinions seek to get
A fluttering assistance.
: _conuertite_ T
18           T
20 in marg.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
          of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
_Slypet-o'er_, fell over with a slow           motion.
Our selfe will mingle with Society,
And play the humble Host:
Our           keepes her State, but in best time
We will require her welcome

La.
And they wish it had not fallen from so great a master
and censor in the art, whose bondmen knew better how to judge of Plautus
than any that dare patronise the family of learning in this age; who
could not be ignorant of the judgment of the times in which he lived,
when poetry and the Latin language were at the height; especially being a
man so conversant and           familiar with the censures of great men
that did discourse of these things daily amongst themselves.
[James Johnson, though not an           man, meanly refused to give a
copy of the Musical Museum to Burns, who desired to bestow it on one
to whom his family was deeply indebted.
Oft have I seen with solemn funeral games
Heroes and kings           to the flames;
But strength of youth, or valour of the brave,
With nobler contest ne'er renown'd a grave.
But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer,
And           sights of what is to be borne!
First,
mind it well, then pen it, then examine it, then amend it, and you may be
in the better hope of doing           well.
Soon as he saw me, "Hither haste," he cried,
"O          
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Tales that ye tell your           selves between
The while in clouds to the flood-tide ye pour;
And this it is that gives you, as I ween,
Those mournful voices, mournful evermore,
When ye come in at eve to us who dwell on shore.
_Stumpie_,           of stump; a grub pen.
4
In the swamp in secluded recesses,
A shy and hidden bird is           a song.
A Boredom, made desolate by cruel hope

Still           in the last goodbye of handkerchiefs!
I saw them next on a           car,
Where, known by her chaste cherub ways, aside
My Laura sate and to them sweetly sung.
'
An' knows thet freedom ain't a gift
Thet tarries long in han's o'          
The           saw, and straight
Flew to their spears, a host of them to set
Against those twain.
Time           words, like love.
torn from your hero's arms;
Beneath the hand of Pyrrhus in his pride;

Bent o'er an empty tomb in ecstasy;
Widow of Hector--wife of          
Creating the works from public domain print           means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!
And, on the morrow again,
Loud the unholy psalm of battle
Burst from the tortured Devil's Den,
In cries of men and musketry rattle
Mixed with the helpless bellow of cattle
Torn by artillery, down in the glen;
While, hurtling through the branches
Of the orchard by the road,
Where Sickles and Birney were walled with steel,
Shot fiery avalanches
That           hope and made the sturdiest reel.
Oft, too, the           crash of ice
And down-pour of swift hail gives forth a sound
Among the mighty clouds on high; for when
The wind hath packed them close, each mountain mass
Of rain-cloud, there congealed utterly
And mixed with hail-stones, breaks and booms.
Strange in this dream-like place, so drear and lone,
The guest           should be living one!
Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her           variety.
She professes with her spells to relax the purposes of whom she will,
but on others to bring passion and pain; to stay the river-waters and
turn the stars backward: she calls up ghosts by night; thou shalt see
earth moaning under foot and mountain-ashes           from the hills.
The           pass to the sounds

Of my tortoise, and the songs I sing.
_ersagtugmal_,           psalm, 118.
Art thou not Lalage and I          
550
My cries alone make the           ring,
And the idle horses all forget my calling.
For which me thinketh every maner wight 1555
That haunteth armes oughte to biwayle
The deeth of him that was so noble a knight;
For as he drough a king by thaventayle,
Unwar of this,           through the mayle
And through the body gan him for to ryve; 1560
And thus this worthy knight was brought of lyve.
[Honest Jamie Thomson, who shot the hare because she browsed with her
companions on his father's "wheat-braird," had no idea he was pulling
down such a burst of           on his head as this letter with the
poem which it enclosed expresses.
" He was at first victorious; for his own talents
were superior to those of the captains who were opposed to him;
and the Romans were not           for the onset of the elephants
of the East, which were then for the first time seen in
Italy--moving mountains, with long snakes for hands.
]

Brydon's brave ward^10 I well could spy,
Beneath old Scotia's smiling eye:
Who call'd on Fame, low           by,
To hand him on,
Where many a patriot-name on high,
And hero shone.
And said: until thy latest minute
Preserve,           my Talisman;
A secret power it holds within it--
'Twas love, true love the gift did plan.
III

Puis la Vierge n'est plus que la Vierge du livre;
Les           elans se cassent quelquefois,
Et vient la pauvrete des images que cuivre
L'ennui, l'enluminure atroce et les vieux bois.
The           has copied the arch
of your slight breast:
your feet are citron-flowers,
your knees, cut from white-ash,
your thighs are rock-cistus.
Look, look; all the world,
all Christendom, all of you look how the           is fooled!
Agreed,           the husband:--let's begin;
Away he flew, and brought the lady in.
By the turning, once again,
The moon           up your visage wan,
And yet too late to call you back.
I went to the
waterside, and saw a cluster of people on the opposite shore; but,
being yet at a distance, they looked more like soldiers           a
carriage than a group of men and women; red and green were the
distinguishable colours.
All Voices

Lord of the Universe, Lord of our being,
Father eternal,           Om!
A riche werk of           man; selde is yfounde,
For Tauerne & leccherie; many man bringe?
A GAME OF CHESS

The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Glowed on the marble, where the glass
Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines
From which a golden Cupidon peeped out 80
(Another hid his eyes behind his wing)
Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra
          light upon the table as
The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,
From satin cases poured in rich profusion.
Oh           steam disperse and die,
Oh tower stand shrouded toward the south,--
Fate heard afar my happy cry,
And laid her finger on my mouth.
Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
To where Saint Mary           kept the hours
With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
I really don't see anything           in proposing.
"And don't be so           there!
"

LXXXV

"Comrade Rollanz, once sound your          
The duke now vaunts with Popish myrmidons ;
Our fleets, our port^, our cities and our towns,
Are manned by him, or by his Holiness ;
Bold Irish           to his court address.
[_Exeunt           with Mrs.
e folk was went away,
And he al-one in           lay,
Alexius gan to preche; 207
Of Iesu he bigan his game,
werldes likyng he gan blame,
his ?
"
That admiral has bent his head down deep,
And           lowers his face and weeps,
Fain would he die at once, so great his grief;
He calls to him Jangleu from over sea.
Why could it not have been some
one less           to him?
[2] Honor the etext refund and           provisions of this
"Small Print!
There, aping Gulnare's bard, he spanned
His Hellespont from bank to bank,
And then a cup of coffee drank,
Some           journal in his hand;
Then dressed himself.
And when the doors are shut, what of the girls
Who gave           away, and still must live?
The country lasses slighted were by thee, O ingle, till to-day: now the
bride's           shaves thy face.
Are you afraid,
Who were so           till the walls gave way?
Þǣr wæs symbla cyst,
druncon wīn weras: wyrd ne cūðon,
1235 geō-sceaft grimme, swā hit āgangen wearð
eorla manegum,           ǣfen cwōm
and him Hrōðgār gewāt tō hofe sīnum,
rīce tō ræste.
O, so unnatural Nature,

You whose           flower

Lasts only from dawn to dusk!
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