No More Learning

O my Luve's like a red, red rose
On a day, alack the day!
On a Poet's lips I slept
Once did She hold the gorgeous East in fee
One more Unfortunate
One word is too often profaned
O never say that I was false of heart
On Linden, when the sun was low
O saw ye bonnie Lesley
O say what is that thing call'd Light
O talk not to me of a name great in story
Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd
Over the mountains
O waly waly up the bank
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms
O Wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being
O World! O Life! O Time!


Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day
Phoebus, arise!
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu
Poor Soul, the centre of my sinful earth
Proud Maisie is in the wood


Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair


Rarely, rarely, comest thou
Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!


Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Shall I, wasting in despair
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
She is not fair to outward view
She walks in beauty, like the night
She was a phantom of delight
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part
Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile
Souls of Poets dead and gone
Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king
Star that bringest home the bee
Stern Daughter of the voice of God!
Surprised by joy--impatient as the wind
Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes
Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower
Sweet stream, that winds through yonder glade
Swiftly walk over the western wave


Take, O take those lips away
Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense
Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind
Tell me where is Fancy bred
That time of year thou may'st in me behold
That which her slender waist confined
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day
The forward youth that would appear
The fountains mingle with the river
The glories of our blood and state
The last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King
The lovely lass o' Inverness
The merchant, to secure his treasure
The more we live, more brief appear
The poplars are fell'd! farewell to the shade
The sun is warm, the sky is clear
The sun upon the lake is low
The twentieth year is well-nigh past
The World is too much with us; late and soon
The World's a bubble, and the Life of Man
There be none of Beauty's daughters
There is a flower, the lesser Celandine
There is a garden in her face
There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream
They that have power to hurt, and will do none
This is the month, and this the happy morn
This life, which seems so fair
Three years she grew in sun and shower
Thy braes were bonnie, Yarrow stream
Thy hue, dear pledge, is pure and bright
Timely blossom, Infant fair
Tired with all these, for restful death I cry
Toll for the brave
To me, fair Friend, you never can be old
'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won
'Twas on a lofty vase's side
Two Voices are there, one is of the Sea


Under the greenwood tree


Verse, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying
Victorious men of earth, no more


Waken, lords and ladies gay
Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie
Were I as base as is the lowly plain
We talk'd with open heart, and tongue
We walk'd along, while bright and red
We watch'd her breathing thro' the night
Whenas in silks my Julia goes
When Britain first at Heaven's command
When first the fiery-mantled Sun
When God at first made Man
When he who adores thee has left but the name
When icicles hang by the wall
When I consider how my light is spent
When I have borne in memory what has tamed
When I have fears that I may cease to be
When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
When in the chronicle of wasted time
When lovely woman stoops to folly
When Love with unconfined wings
When maidens such as Hester die
When Music, heavenly maid, was young
When Ruth was left half desolate
When the lamp is shatter'd
When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
When we two parted
Where art thou, my beloved Son
Where shall the lover rest
Where the remote Bermudas ride
While that the sun with his beams hot
Whoe'er she be
Why art thou silent? Is thy love a plant
Why, Damon, with the forward day
Why so pale and wan, fond lover?
Why weep ye by the tide, ladie?
With little here to do or see


Ye banks and braes and streams around
Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon
Ye distant spires, ye antique towers
Ye Mariners of England
Yes, there is holy pleasure in thine eye!
Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more
You meaner beauties of the night





Corrections to Collins edition:

Poem 143--"W. COUPER" to "W.
COWPER"
Poem 274--"like a green see" to "like a green sea"
Poem 280--"woful Ere" to "woeful Ere"
Palgrave's Notes--Poem 62: "mythe" to "myth"
Palgrave's Notes--Poem 85: "Parliamant" to "Parliament"
Palgrave's Notes--Poem 140: "Acolian lyre" to "Aeolian lyre"
Palgrave's Notes--Poem 140: "were Cytheria" to "where Cytheria"
Palgrave's Notes--Poem 275: "Geeek" to "Greek"





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Section 1.