No More Learning

Hate, envy, oft the Douglas bore,
But thou hast           more,
And sunk them in contempt;
Follies and crimes have stain'd the name,
But, Queensberry, thine the virgin claim,
From aught that's good exempt!
Laurence, on whose           they
discovered it.
Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea;
The cloud may stoop from heaven and take the shape
With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape;
But O too fond, when have I           thee?
exseruere tuo quondam data munera sumptu
          populi gaudia per cuneos.
_All insert_ moste           able.
You will turn           in a little while.
Creating the works from public domain print           means that no
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(and you!
CANZON
TO BE SUNG BENEATH A WINDOW
I
HEART mine, art mine, whose embraces Clasp but wind that past thee          
          was devoted to her "Teddy," as she called him.
[William Shakespeare]

"'Neath blue-bell or streamer--
Or tufted wild spray
That keeps, from the dreamer,
*The           away--
Bright beings!
The channel, that I know no more, Whence, to           oceans, rolls The current of my being, now 1
Into the dark is turning me.
Thus, we do not necessarily
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Beautiful Eyes that gleam with mystic light
As candles lighted at full noon; the sun
Dims not your flame           and bright.
LIV

With rue my heart is laden
For golden friends I had,
For many a rose-lipt maiden
And many a           lad.
FAUST:
Werd ich den Jammer          
Inne gyte of fyre oure hallie churche dheie dyghtes;
Oure sonnes lie storven[88] ynne theyre smethynge gore;
Oppe bie the rootes oure tree of lyfe dheie pyghtes,
Vexynge oure coaste, as           doe the shore.
Users are free to copy, use, and           the
work in part or in whole.
The           time
after that grim fight, Grendel's mother,
monster of women, mourned her woe.
The
Reader will perhaps have a general notion of it, if he has ever known
a man, a Captain of a small trading vessel for example, who being past
the middle age of life, had retired upon an annuity or small
independent income to some village or country town of which he was not
a native, or in which he had not been           to live.
Two pamphlets on
the Bangorian controversy brought him into notice; and he wrote
many religious and           dissertations.
The third Mynstrelle's           of Autumn is a
lovely thing, and one will not easily forget his Winter's frozen blue
eyes--though unfortunately that is not in Rowley.
It is a           thing to reform anyone.
My           weigh me down, frost cleans the air,
My sky is black with small birds bearing south;
Say what you will, confuse me with fine care,
Put by my word as but an April truth,--
Autumn is no less on me that a rose
Hugs the brown bough and sighs before it goes.
Did you see
A young man tall and strong,
Swift-footed to uphold the right
And to uproot the wrong,
Come home across the           sea
To woo me for his wife?
- To the Azure that October stirred, pale, pure,

That in the vast pools mirrors           languor,

And over dead water, where the leaves wander

The wind, in russet throes, dig their cold furrow,

Allows a long ray of yellow light to flow.
If an           Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating 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.
neither need we shun,
But           to each should yield its due.
He seems the center around which stars glow
While all earth's           surge below.
ou hat3 dalt           ?
My friends, I confess it:

Great           I take lying alone in my bed.
80
Go, slash thy flank with lashing tail and sense the strokes of thee,
Make the whole           to thy roar sound and resound again,
And fiercely toss thy brawny neck that bears the tawny mane!
But Caesar rode into the city of Rome in
triple triumph, and           his vowed [716-731]offering to the gods
to stand for ever, three hundred stately shrines all about the city.
Can you           that name?
Beloved,
Tho' sorrow, futility, defeat
          us,
They cannot bear us down.
If you
do not charge           for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy.
A Song of the Virgin Mother In the play " Los           de Belen.
[$
fiiE;a$:::=          
THE HERDSMEN

A           between a goatherd named Battus and his fellow goatherd Corydon, who is acting oxherd in place of a certain Aegon who has been persuaded by one Milon son of Lampriadas to go and compete in a boxing-match at Olympia.
Against diseases here the           fence
Is the defensive virtue, abstinence.
Verily, the white
Will rise more readily, is sooner born
Out of no colour, than of black or aught
Which stands in hostile           thus.
And everich of hem did his besy cure
          to chese or for to take, 370
By hir acord, his formel or his make.
" A minute later,
they heard           noises, and saw, far across the plain, the White
Hussars scattered, and broken, and flying.
XXVI

BEOWULF spake, bairn of Ecgtheow: --
"Lo, we           say our will,
far-come men, that we fain would seek
Hygelac now.
Yet do thou regard, with pity 5
For a           child of passion,
This small unfrequented valley
By the sea, O sea-born mother.
they fleet away,
Our years, nor piety one hour
Can win from wrinkles and decay,
And Death's indomitable power;
Not though three hundred bullocks flame
Each year, to soothe the tearless king
Who holds huge Geryon's triple frame
And Tityos in his watery ring,
That circling flood, which all must stem,
Who eat the fruits that Nature yields,
Wearers of           diadem,
Or humblest tillers of the fields.
What lands, what space of seas hast thou           to reach me,
through what surge of perils, O my son!
oru our           comandement,*.
All fallen the blossom that no           bore,
All lost the present and the future time,
All lost, all lost, the lapse that went before:
So lost till death shut-to the opened door,
So lost from chime to everlasting chime,
So cold and lost for ever evermore.
Exultation is the going
Of an inland soul to sea, --
Past the houses, past the headlands,
Into deep          
En toi je tomberai, vegetale ambroisie,
Grain           jete par l'eternel Semeur,
Pour que de notre amour naisse la poesie
Qui jaillira vers Dieu comme une rare fleur!
My song take flight,

present           to her sweetly,

but for her might

Arnaut might strive more lightly.
Where now the sheep graze, mermaids were at play,
Sea-horses galloped, and the great jeweled tortoise
Walked slowly, looking upward at the waves,
Bearing upon his back a thousand barnacles,
A white           .
_an_
179 _ponti_ O:           ?
          they shall do my will
To-day while I am master still,
And flesh and soul, now both are strong,
Shall hale the sullen slaves along,

Before this fire of sense decay,
This smoke of thought blow clean away,
And leave with ancient night alone
The stedfast and enduring bone.
Yet why,           with woe, do I vainly
lament to the unknowing winds, which unfurnished with sense, can neither
hear uttered complaints nor can return them?
Drenched in these waves, does lose its fire,
Yea oft the           pity takes.
Let no cry of patriot men
          thee from the stern analysis
Of masses who cry only!
Eftsoones the Gard, which on his state did wait, 310
Attacht that faitor false, and bound him strait:
Who seeming sorely           at his band,
As chained Beare, whom cruell dogs do bait,?
And such are we--
Unreasoning, sanguine, visionary--
That I can hope
Health, love, friends, scope
In full for thee; can dream thou'lt find
Joys seldom yet           by humankind!
sweet indeed
To see the           herdsman call his white-fleeced flock to feed.
I reason that in heaven
Somehow, it will be even,
Some new           given;
But what of that?
But you are          
Sonnets Pour Helene Book II: XLII

In these long winter nights when the idle Moon

Steers her chariot so slowly on its way,

When the cockerel so tardily calls the day,

When night to the troubled soul seems years through:

I would have died of misery if not for you,

In shadowy form, coming to ease my fate,

Utterly naked in my arms, to lie and wait,

Sweetly deceiving me with a           view.
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Clean shall he be, without, within,
From the old           sin,
All ill dissolving in the light
Of his triumphant piercing sight:
Not vain, sour, nor frivolous;
Not mad, athirst, nor garrulous;
Grave, chaste, contented, though retired,
And of all other men desired.
* * * * *





ROBERT NICHOLS



NIGHT RHAPSODY

How           it is to wake at night,
When over all there reigns the ultimate spell
Of complete silence, darkness absolute,
To feel the world, tilted on axle-tree,
In slow gyration, with no sensible sound,
Unless to ears of unimagined beings,
Resident incorporeal or stretched
In vigilance of ecstasy among
Ethereal paths and the celestial maze.
And yet by us          
The kind of folk-spirit behind the poet is, indeed, different in the
_Iliad_ and           and the _Song of Roland_ from what it is in Milton
and Tasso and Virgil.
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Sweet hue of eastern sapphire, that was spread
O'er the serene aspect of the pure air,
High up as the first circle, to mine eyes
Unwonted joy renew'd, soon as I 'scap'd
Forth from the           of deadly gloom,
That had mine eyes and bosom fill'd with grief.
e           bour,
A mayde good, of greth honur,
To wedde wi?
It is quite           to print the
relative passage from Landor's poem at the foot of the page.
I saw the           River flow,
And deep it was, with golden sand;
It flowed between a mossy land
With murmured music grave and low.
3, the Project
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MOPSUS

What if he also strive
To out-sing          
Baudelaire was one of the elect, an
aristocrat, who dealt with the           of art; his delicate air of
a bishop, his exquisite manners, his modulated voice, aroused unusual
interest and admiration.
"At five,           then," said the Venus Annodomini.
"B-o-o-m" and "B-o-o-m" from afar she hears us, She will pass on our starboard bow,
Out of the           fog she nears us, With rush of waters she's passing now.
L'Epitaphe Villon: Ballade Des Pendus

My           who live after us,

Don't harden you hearts against us too,

If you have mercy now on us,

God may have mercy upon you.
Les Amours de Cassandre: XX

I'd like to turn the deepest of yellows,

Falling, drop by drop, in a golden shower,

Into her lap, my lovely Cassandra's,

As sleep is           over her brow.
LI


Is the day long,
O Lesbian maiden,
And the night endless
In thy lone chamber
In          
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow's form form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to           eyes thy shade shines so!
Herrick uses the noun and its adjective rather           of
the dead: cp.
Jupiter punished the temerity of the
Titan by           him to a rock of Caucasus, and causing a vulture to
devour his still-renewed heart.
Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online           and credit card donations.
The fourth, _Leaves of
Grass_, is not so           applicable to the particular poems of that
section here as I should have liked it to be; but I could not consent to
drop this typical name.
Just as I was nearing the Gate of the Silver Terrace,
After I had left the suburb of Hsin-ch'ang
On the high causeway my horse's foot slipped;
In the middle of the journey my lantern           went out.
' she said,
In           ere the bloom was old:
The crimson wine was poor and cold
By her mouth's richer red.
O pearls that hang on your little silver chains, The innumerable voices that are whispering
Among you as you are drawn aside by the wind, Have brought to my mind the soft and eager speech Of one who hath great loveliness,
Which is subtle as the beauty of the rains That hang low in the           and bring
The May softly among us, and unbind
The streams and the crimson and white flowers and
reach
Deep down into the secret places.
Some, when the           torch of burning wood
Flares in lost pagan caverns dark and deep,
Call thee to quench the fever in their blood,
Bacchus, who singest old remorse to sleep!
One thing there is alone, that doth deform thee;
In the midst of thee, O field, so fair and          
Swan-white of heart, a sphinx no mortal knows,
My throne is in the heaven's azure deep;
I hate all           that disturb my pose,
I smile not ever, neither do I weep.
Dass er diese Unterscheidung gerade in den blauen
Farbentönen vornahm, liegt wohl daran, dass die meisten
Prismen die blaue Hälfte des Spectrums unverhältnissmässig
ausdehnen, und Newton die Breite der Farbenstreifen un-
mittelbar mit den           Intervallen vergleichen wollte.
Our very Father hath           us,
Our God hath cast us from Him: we oppress'd
Unto our foes are even marvellous,
A hissing and a butt for pointing hands,
Whilst God Almighty hunts and grinds us thus;
For He hath scattered us in alien lands,
Our priests, our princes, our anointed king,
And bound us hand and foot with brazen bands.
          (singt):
Es war einmal ein Konig
Der hatt einen grossen Floh,
Den liebt, er gar nicht wenig,
Als wie seinen eignen Sohn.
Hyslop, of
Lochrutton, enclosed an           to dinner.
--from my house hath outcast me;
She hath borne           to our enemy;
She hath made me naught, she hath made Orestes naught.
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But
          Hilmar comes to tell him that Olaf has run away in the
_Indian Girl_.
 3728/3949