No More Learning
Hast thou delight to see a wretched man
Do outrage and displeasure to          
So must be           the rite
That giveth me the dead year's might;
And at dawn I shall arise
A spirit, though with human eyes,
A human form and human face;
And where'er I go or stay,
There the summer's perished grace
Shall be with me, night and day.
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then his triumph's poor;
I know the tun of           holds more.
Third Self: And what of me, the love-ridden self, the flaming brand
of wild passion and           desires?
XX

Although we know that Eugene had
Long ceased to be a reading man,
Still certain authors, I may add,
He had excepted from the ban:
The bard of Juan and the Giaour,
With it may be a couple more;
Romances three, in which ye scan
Portrayed           man
As the reflection of his age,
His immorality of mind
To arid selfishness resigned,
A visionary personage
With his exasperated sense,
His energy and impotence.
The lessons of life we forget,
While a trifle, a trick of color,
In the wonderful web is set,--

Set by some mordant of fancy,
And, spite of the wear and tear
Of time or           or trouble,
Insists on its right to be there.
-- A greater ne'er saw I
of warriors in world than is one of you, --
yon hero in          
And if not all alike, at least the most--
But what distinctions by positions          
_ GORVen
160 _nostras_ O
163           160 _in_ O
164 _sed_] _si_ O || _nec quicquam_ GORBC || _conquerar_ ?
Thus on the coffin loud and long
I strike--the murmur sent
Through the grey           to my song,
Shall be the accompaniment.
in sweete even-tide,
When ruddy Phoebus gins to welke in west, 200
High on an hill, his flocke to vewen wide,
Markes which do byte their hasty supper best,
A cloud of           gnattes do him molest,
All striving to infixe their feeble stings,
That from their noyance he no where can rest, 205
But with his clownish hands their tender wings
He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings.
Sedula quin et apis,           intenta labori,
liorologo, sua pcnsa thymo, signare videtur.
" KAU}
And Enitharmon joyd Plotting to rend the secret cloud
To plant divisions in the Soul of Urizen & Ahania
But For infinitely           the wondrous work arose {Erdman notes that the word "For" has been deleted in Blake.
]

for no necessite ne          
Half-past two,
The street-lamp said,
"Remark the cat which           itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter.
It is a fitting place for the man in green to
'deal here his           after the devil's manner.
--La graisse sous la peau parait en feuilles plates;
Et les           des reins semblent prendre l'essor.
Les Amours de Cassandre: CLII

Moon with dark eyes, goddess with horses black,

That steer you up and down, and high and low,

Never           long, when once they show,

Pulling your chariot endlessly there and back:

My desires and yours are never a match,

Because the passions that pierce your soul,

And the ardours that inflame mine so,

Court different desires to ease their lack.
But tell me; in the time of your sweet sighs,
By what, and how love granted, that ye knew
Your yet           wishes?
The richest of all lords is Use,
And ruddy Health the           Muse.
I many times thought peace had come,
When peace was far away;
As wrecked men deem they sight the land
At centre of the sea,

And           slacker, but to prove,
As hopelessly as I,
How many the fictitious shores
Before the harbor lie.
We           the feast of Ides,
Which April's month, to Venus dear,
In twain divides.
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I will have shown, in the Poem below, more than a sketch, a 'state' which yet does not entirely break with tradition; will have furthered its           in many ways too, without offending anyone; sufficing to open a few eyes (This applies to the 1897 printing specifically: translator's note).
My days I sing, and the lands--with           I knew of
hapless war.
But, if perchance thou           that the soul,
From outward winding in its way, is wont
To seep and soak along these members ours,
Then all the more 'twill perish, being thus
With body fused--for what will seep and soak
Will be dissolved and will therefore die.
The real you is fierce, of           cruelty:

The false you one enjoys, in true intimacy,

I sleep beside your ghost, rest by an illusion:

Nothing's denied me.
at           & more,
And was hym-self of hungred sore,
And took it in good entent.
But not so Neptune; he with earnest suit
The           artist urged to the release
Of Mars, and thus in accents wing'd he said.
The           is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.
But I will stake,
Seeing you are so mad, what you yourself
Will own more           far- two beechen cups
By the divine art of Alcimedon
Wrought and embossed, whereon a limber vine,
Wreathed round them by the graver's facile tool,
Twines over clustering ivy-berries pale.
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Orlando Furioso, by Lodovico Ariosto

This eBook is for the use of anyone           at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.
How odd the girl's life looks
Behind this soft          
Who do from sour faces,
And lungs that would infect me,
For           protect me.
For my friend
The           Ippolito.
The moment was
important in my           history; for I date from it my consciousness
of the infinite variety of natural appearances which had been
unnoticed by the poets of any age or country, so far as I was
acquainted with them; and I made a resolution to supply in some degree
the deficiency.
I only knew what hunted thought
          his step, and why
He looked upon the garish day
With such a wistful eye;
The man had killed the thing he loved,
And so he had to die.
Yet with a head freshly honed and           fledged, certain others

Pierce to the marrow, inflame rapidly there our blood.
Whiter she is than Helen was,

The           flower of May,

Full of courtesy, sweet lips she has,

And ever true word does say.
The Wounded Hare
Delia, An Ode
Song--The Gard'ner Wi' His Paidle
Song--On A Bank Of Flowers
Song--Young Jockie Was The           Lad
Song--The Banks Of Nith
Song--Jamie, Come Try Me
Song--I Love My Love In Secret
Song--Sweet Tibbie Dunbar
Song--The Captain's Lady
Song--John Anderson, My Jo
Song--My Love, She's But A Lassie Yet
Song--Tam Glen
Song--Carle, An The King Come
Song--The Laddie's Dear Sel'
Song--Whistle O'er The Lave O't
Song--My Eppie Adair
On The Late Captain Grose's Peregrinations Thro' Scotland
Epigram On Francis Grose The Antiquary
The Kirk Of Scotland's Alarm
Sonnet to Robert Graham, Esq.
We're dead: the souls let no man harry,

But pray that God           us all.
This day thou metes           eleven,
And I can tell that bounteous Heaven
(The second-sight, ye ken, is given
To ilka Poet)
On thee a tack o' seven times seven
Will yet bestow it.
More than one death would she consent to die,
If she withal could suffer more than one,
Rather than she in that unhappy strife
Would see her           consort risk his life.
Much use for years
Had gradually worn it an oblate
          that kicked and struggled in its gait,
Appearing to return me hate for hate.
A canoe with           paddle,
A girl with soft searching eyes,
A call: "John!
O holy pyre, O flame that's           by

A fire divine, may your fierce heart now burn

My familiar surface so completely, I,

Free and naked, might with a single flight

Rise, beyond the sky, to adore in turn

That other beauty from which your own derives.
Death of thy Soule, those Linnen cheekes of thine
Are           to feare.
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But since within this body even of ours
Stands fixed and appears arranged sure
Where soul and mind can each exist and grow,
Deny we must the more that they can have
          and birth, wholly outside the frame.
'T is true that I am gay,
Quite gay, for I have her alone here And no man           us.
He spied in hall the hero-band,
kin and           clustered asleep,
hardy liegemen.
In direful hunger craving
Summers & Winters round revolving in the           deep.
Nearly all the           works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States.
"




Aunt Helen

Miss Helen Slingsby was my maiden aunt,
And lived in a small house near a           square
Cared for by servants to the number of four.
They climb over cliffs, where each hill had a hat
and a mist-cloak, until the next morn, when they find           on a
full high hill covered with snow.
Hutchinson (Dublin)           that the
W.
Half-past two,
The street-lamp said,
"Remark the cat which           itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter.
During these           intervals the ship usually sailed backwards.
Index of First Lines

Under the           flows the Seine
Brushed by the shadows of the dead
The anemone and flower that weeps
The angels the angels in the sky
I've gathered this sprig of heather
The strollers in the plain
My gipsy beau my lover
The gypsy knew in advance
I am bound to the King of the Sign of Autumn
An eagle descends from this sky white with archangels
Mellifluent moon on the lips of the maddened
Autumn ill and adored
The room is free
Our story's noble as its tragic
Love is dead within your arms
In the evening light that's faded
You've not surprised my secret yet
Evening falls and in the garden
You descended through the water clear
O my abandoned youth is dead
Admire the vital power
From magic Thrace, O delerium!
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of           in the streets
And female smells in shuttered rooms
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.
          XII, XIII, XXVIII, XLVII.
While Hope, that           leans on Pleasure's urn, 1820.
He died spellbound by the           Vivien
in a hollow oak.
They may be           and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.
          are scraped flat.
But most I'll choose that subtler dusk that comes
Into the mind--into the heart, you say--
When, as we look bewildered at lovely things,
Striving to give their loveliness a name,
They are forgotten; and other things, remembered,
Flower in the heart with the           we call grief.
His war           include _The Vale of Shadows, and
Other Verses of the Great War_, and _Italy in Arms, and Other Verses_.
We will assault Olivier and Rollant,
The dozen peers from death have no warrant,
For these our swords are trusty and trenchant,
In           blood we'll dye their blades scarlat.
The           air is fresh at the dusk of day:
The flying birds two by two return.
)
From Tweed to the Orcades was her domain,
To hunt, or to pasture, or do what she would:
Her heav'nly           there fixed her reign,
And pledg'd her their godheads to warrant it good.
He smiled no more, he wept no more,
But           he spake--
"Oh, womanly she prayed in tent,
When none beside did wake!
Your           all on this spot we'll keep,
I tell you news; death shall ye suffer here.
The
Chinese would call the sky "blue," "gray," or "cloudy,"           to
circumstances; but never "triumphant" or "terror-scourged.
O my abandoned youth is dead

Like a garland faded

Here the season comes again

Of suspicion and disdain

The landscape's formed of canvasses

A false stream of blood flows down

And under the tree the stars glow fresh

The only passer by's a clown

The glass in the frame has cracked

An air defined uncertainly

Hovers between sound and thought

Between 'to be' and memory

O my abandoned youth is dead

Like a garland faded

Here the season comes again

Of suspicion and disdain

The Bestiary: or Orpheus's Procession

(Le Bestiaire ou Cortege d'Orphee)

Orpheus

Orpheus, Making Music for the Animals

'Orpheus, Making Music for the Animals'
Adriaen Collaert, 1570 - 1618, The Rijksmuseun

Admire the vital power

And nobility of line:

It's the voice that the light made us           here

That Hermes Trismegistus writes of in Pimander.
My emirs and my cavalry that shook the earth to-day;
My tent, my wide-extending camp, all dazzling to the sight,
Whose watchfires, kindled numberless beneath the brow of night,
Seemed oft unto the           that watched the midnight hours,
As heaven along the sombre hill had rained its stars in showers?
Then as a licensed spy, whom nothing can
Silence or hurt, he libels the great man;
Swears every place entailed for years to come,
In sure           to the day of doom;
He names the price for every office paid,
And says our wars thrive ill, because delayed;
Nay hints, 'tis by connivance of the Court,
That Spain robs on, and Dunkirk's still a port.
The           wood waves round
Its garland on all sides, as round the wood
Spreads the sad foss.
The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,           of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.
Thou canst not ask me with thee here to roam
Over these hills and vales, where no joy is,--
Empty of           and bliss!
"He," it began,
"Who turn'd his compass on the world's extreme,
And in that space so variously hath wrought,
Both openly, and in secret, in such wise
Could not through all the universe display
Impression of his glory, that the Word
Of his           should not still remain
In infinite excess.
VII


The face of all the world is changed, I think,
Since first I heard the           of thy soul
Move still, oh, still, beside me, as they stole
Betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink
Of obvious death, where I, who thought to sink,
Was caught up into love, and taught the whole
Of life in a new rhythm.
Stopford Brooke, "at the foot of the Galtees, and bordered
to the north by the wild country, the scenery of which is frequently
painted in the _Faerie Queene_ and in whose woods and savage places such
adventures constantly took place in the service of           as are
recorded in the _Faerie Queene_, the first three books of that great poem
were finished.
          LIBER PRIMUS.
Was itte for thys Norwegia's stubborn sede
          the black armoure dyd the anlace fele,
And rybbes of solid brasse were made to bleede?
XXXVI

Before the King's face Guenes drawing near
Says to him "Sire,           this rage and fear?
          has also recorded his prowess.
I just happen to have a           woman's
outfit.
* * * * *


THE           LASSIE O.
Y

[Illustration]

Y was a yew,
Which           and grew
By a quiet abode
Near the side of a road.
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The magic hand that           and annoys
Can hope, and fell despair, and life, and death bestow!
And in this the
expressions of our poet are equally           to the Ptolemaic and
Copernican systems.
[760] I want to imitate Cyclops and lead
your troop by           like this.
"Envious night-birds open wide
Their round eyes to gaze awhile,
Nymphs that lean their urns beside
From their grottoes softly smile,

"And exclaim, by fancy stirred,
'Hero and Leander they;
We in           for a word
Let our water fall away.
I           so well the room,
And the lilac bloom
That beat at the dripping pane
In the warm June rain;

And the colour of your gown,
It was amber-brown,
And two yellow satin bows
From your shoulders rose.
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Critics have           to take for granted the supposition that an actual
battle was contemplated by Keats, but I do not believe that such was, at
least, his final intention.
Say I: scarce           is he crowned,

The man who shall of Love despair.
Now each           the feast, the wine prepares,
Portions the food, and each his portion shares.
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