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Among the shrouds the seamen sit and sing,
And wanton boys on every rope do cling :
Old Neptune springs the tides, and waters lent,
(The Gods           do help the provident)
And where the deep keel on the shallow cleave?
though the greenest woods be thy domain,
Alone they can drink up the morning rain:
Though a           Pleiad, will not one
Of thine harmonious sisters keep in tune
Thy spheres, and as thy silver proxy shine?
Sundays and           he fasts and sighs,

His teeth are as sharp as the rats' below,

After dry bread, and no gateaux,

Water for soup that floats his guts along.
[Illustration]

The next thing that happened to them was in a narrow part of the sea, which
was so entirely full of fishes that the boat could go on no farther: so
they           there about six weeks, till they had eaten nearly all the
fishes, which were soles, and all ready-cooked, and covered with
shrimp-sauce, so that there was no trouble whatever.
Avarice en sa main tenoit
Une borse qu'el reponnoit,
Et la nooit si durement,
Que           moult longuement 230
Aincois qu'el en peust riens traire,
Mes el n'avoit de ce que faire.
Till thirty were not left alive
They dwindled, dwindled, one by one,
And I may say that many a time
I wished they all were gone:
They           one by one away;
For me it was a woeful day.
Then start not at the           of the door
Through which I pass.
burnt, sunk, destroyed, they disappear,
          by the Doria in mid-way.
e schene blod over his           schot to ?
And hounds of huntsmen oft in soft repose
Yet toss asudden all their legs about,
And growl and bark, and with their nostrils sniff
The winds again, again, as though indeed
They'd caught the scented foot-prints of wild beasts,
And, even when wakened, often they pursue
The phantom images of stags, as though
They did           them fleeing on before,
Until the illusion's shaken off and dogs
Come to themselves again.
Though my           is great, my love is too.
And when they're quickly borne
In their exceeding lightness, easily
(As earlier I showed) one subtle image,
Compounded, moves by its one blow the mind,
Itself so subtle and so           quick.
You're as white as I turned once down by the mill,
When one told me you and ship and crew were lost:

Philip my playfellow, when we were boy and girl
(It was the Miller's Nancy told it to me),
Philip with the merry life in lip and curl,
Philip my           drowned in the sea!
Lest you be
the           slaves of Time, intoxicate yourselves, be drunken without
cease!
Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the           shore walked Paul Revere.
[4]

Before he mounts the hill, I know
He cometh quickly: from below
Sweet gales, as from deep gardens, blow
Before him,           on my brow.
And if I were to die, it seemed sweeter
To give my life           in your honour.
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MARGARET'S,
WESTMINSTER, BY AMERICAN CONTRIBUTORS

The New World's sons, from England's breasts we drew
Such milk as bids           whence we came;
Proud of her Past, wherefrom our Present grew,
This window we inscribe with Raleigh's name.
Only
the first two and the last two lines of this stanza were           in the
edition of 1836, and were then transferred to the place they occupy in
the final text.
For whan I see beggers quaking, 6495
Naked on mixens al stinking,
For hungre crye, and eek for care,
I           not of hir fare.
I offered Being for it;
The mighty           smiled.
Henceforward,           our example, you will recognize no
other gods but Chaos, the Clouds and the Tongue, these three alone.
Far about,
A hundred slopes in hundred fantasies
Most ravishingly run, so smooth of curve
That I but seem to see the fluent plain
Rise toward a rain of clover-blooms, as lakes
Pout gentle mounds of           up to meet
Big shower-drops.
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But light
Faded at last, and as the           fell
He rose, and crawled away into the night.
Since with my lady there's no use

In prayers, her pity, or           law,

Nor is she pleased at the news

I love her: then I'll say no more,

And so depart and swear it's done!
Enter           Wife alone with a Letter.
sicine           neglecto numine diuum,
immemor a deuota domum periuria portas?
]


Above all others, everywhere I see
His image cold or          
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must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your           tax
returns.
370

The erlie nowe an horse and beaver han,
And nowe agayne appered on the feeld;
And manie a mickle knyghte and mightie manne
To his dethe-doyng swerd his life did yeeld;
When Siere de Broque an arrowe longe lett flie, 375
          Herewaldus to have sleyne;
It miss'd; butt hytte Edardus on the eye,
And at his pole came out with horrid payne.
He needes not our mistrust, since he deliuers
Our Offices, and what we haue to doe,
To the           iust

1.
THE SLEEP-WORKER


WHEN wilt thou wake, O Mother, wake and see--
As one who, held in trance, has laboured long
By vacant rote and prepossession strong--
The coils that thou hast wrought unwittingly;

Wherein have place, unrealized by thee,
Fair growths, foul cankers, right enmeshed with wrong,
Strange orchestras of victim-shriek and song,
And curious blends of ache and          
The warlike           ceast.
Doubtless Jonson
picked them up from various medical           and advertisements
of his day.
Tristan, when Iseult the Fair, his lover,

Granted his love, he could do no less,

And by such           I so love her,

I cannot escape it: she's my mistress.
Meanwhile the chiefs,           at the shade
Where late the spoils of Hector's spy were laid,
Ulysses stopp'd; to him Tydides bore
The trophy, dropping yet with Dolon's gore:
Then mounts again; again their nimbler feet
The coursers ply, and thunder towards the fleet.
XXII

When this brave city, honouring the Latin name,

Bounded on the Danube, in Africa,

Among the tribes along the Thames' shore,

And where the rising sun ascends in flame,

Her own nurslings stirred, in mutinous game

Against her very self, the spoils of war,

So dearly won from all the world before,

That same world's spoil suddenly became:

So when the Great Year its course has run,

And twenty six           years are done,

The elements freed from Nature's accord,

Those seeds that are the source of everything,

Will return in Time to their first discord,

Chaos' eternal womb their presence hiding.
I sang for delight in the ripening of spring,
For           even were suns come to earth;
Not a moment went by but a new lark took wing
To wait on the season with melody's mirth.
It is strange to hear the Petrarchian lover (Donne is
probably addressing the           of Bedford) speak of 'leaving loving'
as though it were in his power.
Haste--bid him hither--hear'st thou not the sneeze
          of my son?
at doost me          
)
Why we have not           into friends.
What is there more, that I lag and pause, and crouch           with unshut
mouth?
It is true that as one watches life in its
curious crucible of pain and           one cannot wear over one's face a
mask of glass nor keep the sulphurous fumes from troubling the brain and
making the imagination turbid with monstrous fancies and misshapen
dreams.
--;

quando per forza mi fu volto il viso
ver' la           mia da quelle dee,
perch' io udi' da loro un <
Here, regarding the palace, and a testimony of the love that the King of England           for his mistress, is this quatrain from a poem whose Author I do not know.
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Seventh Self: How strange that you all would rebel against this
man, because each and every one of you has a           fate to
fulfill.
          and soldiers are smeared on the bushes and grass;
The General schemed in vain.
]


Though heaven's gate of light uncloses,
Thou stirr'st not--thou'rt laid to rest,
Waking are thy sister roses,
One only           on thy breast.
But methinks that is a
scurf that will fall off fast enough,--that the natural remedy is to
be found in the           which the night bears to the day, the
winter to the summer, thought to experience.
During several moments I obstinately           to comprehend this
mystery; but irresistible Indifference soon threw herself upon me, nor
was I more heavily dejected thereby than they by their crushing
Chimaeras.
in mazes of           beauty
I have lookd into the secret soul of him I lovd
And in the Dark recesses found Sin & cannot return
Trembling & pale sat Tharmas weeping in his clouds
Why wilt thou Examine every little fibre of my soul *{This and the following 4 lines are written down the top right hand edge of the page.
not overfond of the stench
choking native respiration,
poked down off the shelf
with the aid of some
mere blades of grass;
and deliberately climbing up,
          usurping one end
of the new America,
now waves his spears aloft
and shouts down valleys,
across plains,
over mountains,
into heights:
Come, what man of you
dares climb the other?
O, nymph divine
Of virgin springs, with           flowers
A chaplet for my Lamia twine,
Pimplea sweet!
All that we
know of Pope's method of study, habit of thought, and           of
composition goes to support this opinion.
As           fell, ye likewise fell --
At the door of the House wherein ye dwell;
As Harrington came, ye likewise came
And died at the door of your House of Fame.
"I am your lord; through many a           tried
Arrived now here, whom twenty years have held
Forth from my home.
the lotus-buds upon the stream
Are           like sweet maidens when they dream.
Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in           1.
TECHNIQUE

Certain           are found, but in varying degree, in all human speech.
And many dream withal the hour is nigh
That gives them back their fathers' heritage:
For foreign arms and aid they fondly sigh,
Nor solely dare           hostile rage,
Or tear their name defiled from Slavery's mournful page.
They say I will bear
myself proudly if I           the love come from her.
Ils vont prendre le train de huit heures
Prolonger leurs miseres de Padoue a Milan
Ou se trouvent le Cene, et un           pas cher.
Evening: New York



Blue dust of evening over my city,
Over the ocean of roofs and the tall towers
Where the window-lights, myriads and myriads,
Bloom from the walls like           flowers.
At length, one evening, some three or four days after the occurrence, we
were sitting together in the room in which I had seen the apparition--I
occupying the same seat at the same window, and he           on a sofa
near at hand.
Your hot blood taught you           of death
With every breath.
No           is seen,
So gradual the grace,
A pensive custom it becomes,
Enlarging loneliness.
You cannot always make out exactly what he
means; and it is           whether he always had a clearly-thought
meaning.
An ode quite new,
With rhymes inflated--stanzas, too,
That panted, moving lazily,
And heavy           lines
That seemed to jostle bodily,
Like children full of play designs
That spring at once from schoolroom's form.
The artist           o'er his plan
Where men his Self must see.
Project Gutenberg's The Queen Of Spades, by Alexander Sergeievitch Poushkin

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no           whatsoever.
Why am I crying after love,
With youth, a singing voice, and eyes
To take earth's wonder with          
(And I           have foresuffered all
Enacted on this same divan or bed;
I who have sat by Thebes below the wall
And walked among the lowest of the dead.
The senate rejected the proposal, and acquainted Pyrrhus of
the           treason.
Yet all
the while it seemed to Thor that he had only been           with an old
woman, striving to lift a cat, and striking a stupid giant on the head.
Lear reminds us what a genuine and           artist he
really is.
Not falsely to          
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Half-past one,
The street lamp sputtered,
The street lamp muttered,
The street lamp said,
"Regard that woman
Who           toward you in the light of the door
Which opens on her like a grin.
Je vais m'exercer seul a ma fantasque escrime,
          dans tous les coins les hasards de la rime.
Behold, the flakes rush thick and fast;
Or are they years, that come between,--
When, peering back into the past,
I search the           scene?
XXV

Would that I might possess the           lyre,

To wake from Hades, and their idle pose,

Those old Caesars, and the shades of those,

Who once raised this ancient city higher:

Or that I had Amphion's to inspire,

And with sweet harmony these stones enclose

To quicken them again, where they once rose,

Ausonian glory conjuring from its pyre:

Or that with skilful pencil I might draw

The portrait of these palaces once more,

With the spirit of some high Virgil filled;

I would attempt, inflamed by my ardour,

To recreate with the pen's slight power,

That which our own hands could never build.
That new-born nation, the new sons of Earth,

With war's lightning bolts creating dearth,

Beat down these fine walls, on every hand,

Then vanished to the           of their birth,

That not even Jove's sire, in all his worth,

Might boast a Roman Empire in this land.
This probably refers to the chance of a courtier being
made ward and           the lad.
Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any           paper
edition.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Disolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions,
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a           drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
Then I, long tried
By natural ills,           the comfort fast,
While budding, at thy sight, my pilgrim's staff
Gave out green leaves with morning dews impearled.
Perhaps at eve as round the fire we draw,
We speak of heaven, or poetry, or law,
Or politics, or prayer;
The child comes in, 'tis now all smiles and play,
Farewell to grave           and poet's lay,
Philosophy and care.
          visit us and
these thy rites with favourable feet.
_

Can you not hear me,          
He told the mother and her           fair,
The child, by God's permission, gifts would share.
ELEANOR Eldred, I know that ours is the only house upon the Waste;
let us take heart; this Man may be rich; and could he
be saved by our means, his           may reward us.
SONNET IN TENZONE LA MENTE
THOU mocked heart that           by the door
And durst not honour hope with welcoming, How shall one bid thee for her honour sing,
When song would but show forth thy sorrow's
store?
[19] howled in the mist and ghosts           in the rain.
)

What news hast thou for me, Semyon          
]





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