No More Learning

264

There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away (_Poems
1814-1816_), iii. 423

There's something in a stupid ass (_Jeux d'Esprit, etc. _), vii. 63

These locks, which fondly thus entwine (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 36

They say that Hope is happiness (_Poems 1814-1816_), iii. 438

Thine eyes' blue tenderness, thy long fair hair (_Poems 1809-1813_),
iii. 70, _390_

Think'st thou I saw thy beauteous eyes (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 8

This Band, which bound thy yellow hair (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 212

This day, of all our days, has done (_Jeux d'Esprit, etc. _). vii. 71

This faint resemblance of thy charms (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 32, _36_

This votive pledge of fond esteem (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 78

Those flaxen locks, those eyes of blue (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 260

Thou art not false, but thou art fickle (_Poems 1809-1818_), iii.
64

_Thou_ lay thy branch of _laurel_ down (_Jeux d'Esprit, etc. _), vii. 19

Thou Power! who hast ruled me through Infancy's days (_Hours of
Idleness_), i. 254

Thou whose spell can raise the dead (_Hebrew Melodies_), iii. 392

Though the day of my Destiny's over (_Poems of July-September, 1816_),
iv. 54

Through cloudless skies, in silvery sheen (_Poems 1809-1818_), iii. 11

Through Life's dull road, so dim and dirty (_Jeux d'Esprit, etc. _), vii.
73

Through thy battlements, Newstead, the hollow winds whistle (_Hours of
Idleness_), i. 1

Thy cheek is pale with thought, but not from woe (_Poems 1809-1813_),
iii. 71

Thy days are done, thy fame begun (_Hebrew Melodies_), iii. 391

Thy verse is "sad" enough, no doubt (_Hours of Idleness_), i. 252

Time! on whose arbitrary wing (_Poems 1809-1813_), iii. 60

'T is done--and shivering in the gale (_Hours of Idleness_), i.