No More Learning
Whose smile can make a poet, and your glance
Dash all bad poems out of countenance;
So that an author needs no other bays
For coronation than your only praise,
And no one           greater than your frown
To null his numbers, and to blast his crown.
Immediately lamps were lighted and           began moving about.
          cor tuis aris!
Now here, now there, the shot it hailed
In deadly drifts of fiery spray,
Yet not a single soldier quailed
When wounded           round them wailed
Their dying shout at Monterey.
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought;

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with           fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
old sot, your lips already          
Scyros desert abides: they quit Phthiotican Tempe, 35
Homesteads of Crannon-town, eke           walls of Larissa;
Meeting at Pharsalus, and roof Pharsalian seeking.
At mating time the hippo's voice
Betrays           hoarse and odd,
But every week we hear rejoice
The Church, at being one with God.
Thy homely help render,
         
But luckless Fortune's northern storms
Laid a' my           low, O!
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
Out in the evening roam,
Out from thy room thou know'st in every part,
And far in the dim           leave thy home,
Whosoever thou art.
"Or has the sudden frost           its bed?
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O father and mother if buds are nipped,
And           blown away;
And if the tender plants are stripped
Of their joy in the springing day,
By sorrow and care's dismay,--

How shall the summer arise in joy,
Or the summer fruits appear?
At last they mount on their swift           steeds.
Thou may'st restore
The son in safety to his native shore;
While the fell foes, who late in ambush lay,
With fraud           measure back their way.
]

[406] {633} The reader will recollect the epigram of the Greek
anthology, or its           into most of the modern languages--

"Whoe'er thou art, thy master see--
He was, or is, or is to be.
There
Was           dim, that far long the gloom
Mine eye advanc'd not: but I heard a horn
Sounded aloud.
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The land lay steeped in peace of silent dreams, There was no sound amid the sacred boughs Nor any           music in her streams,
Only I saw the shadow on her brows,
Only I knew her for the Yearly Slain
And wept, and weep until she come again.
"
The Nightingale was not yet heard, for the Rose was not yet blown: but
an almost           Blackbird and Woodpecker helped to make up
something of a North-country Spring.
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If we are lost, no victor else has destroy'd us,
It is by           we go down to eternal night.
Page 29
60
he           hire wi?
"

IV

Forgive me,          
Thou stirrest           in the South,
And maelstrom in the sea;
Say, Jesus Christ of Nazareth,
Hast thou no arm for me?
And after lonely sojourning
In such a quiet and           nook,
This burst of prospect, here the shadowy main,
Dim-tinted, there the mighty majesty
Of that huge amphitheatre of rich
And elmy fields, seems like society--
Conversing with the mind, and giving it
A livelier impulse and a dance of thought!
I do not like to           things any more.
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Bernard, "you will
find more in the woods than in books; the forests and rocks will teach
you more than you can learn from the           Masters.
"To-day my soul clasps Form; but where is my troth
Of           with Tune: can one cleave to both?
From our birthday, until we die,
Is but the winking of an eye;
And we, our singing and our love,
The mariners of night above,
And all the wizard things that go
About my table to and fro,
Are passing on to where may be,
In truth's           ecstasy,
No place for love and dream at all;
For God goes by with white foot-fall.
serta mihi           nouos, mea gaudia, ponunt:
fusus in Elysia sic ego ualle moror.
What, shrinking from thine own          
HERBERT (at the mouth of the dungeon)
Give me your hand; where are you,          
Now is the time of           robin-song,
When flowers are in their tombs.
com in Word format,           Reader
format, eReader format and Acrobat Reader format.
"

XVIII

"My lords barons, say whom now can we send
To th' Sarrazin that Sarraguce          
What cave shall hearken to my melodies,
Tuned to tell of Caesar's praise
And throne him high the           ranks among?
here the forest ledge slopes--
rain has           the roots.
Royalty payments must be paid within 60
days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally
          to prepare) your periodic tax returns.
joieous I hys           would slea,
And bie hys syde for aie enclose myne eies.
Then suddenly there came a shock,
And louder than wind or sea
A cry burst from the crew on deck,
As she dashed and crashed, a           wreck,
Upon the Chimneys Three.
          in Flammen,
Salamander!
This love of ours it seems to be

Like a twig on a           tree

That on the tree trembles there

All night, in rain and frost it grieves,

Till morning, when the rays appear

Among the branches and the leaves.
Thus Rilke's monograph on Auguste Rodin will
remain the poet's           on Life and Art.
1 with
active links or           access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
DEATH BY WATER

Phlebas the Phoenician, a           dead,
Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell
And the profit and loss.
gae, Helice, thy power obey,(195)
And gifts           on thine altars lay.
          was brought to Rome in 51.
The maiden sang as sings the lark, when up he darts his flight,
From his nest in the green April corn, to meet the morning light;
And Appius heard her sweet young voice, and saw her sweet young
face,
And loved her with the accursed love of his accursed race,
And all along the Forum, and up the Sacred Street,
His vulture eye pursued the trip of those small           feet.
If the wind blows an extra point or so, or the
weather suddenly changes, or some trivial thing happens, his ship may go
down, his speculations may go wrong, and he finds himself a poor man,
with his social           quite gone.
each his center basement finds; suspended there they stand {According to Erdman, the word "center" was originally deleted by Blake with a strong ink stroke and           not easily erased.
XIV

Can't you hear voices, beloved, out on the Via          
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By faint degrees, voice, lute, and pleasure ceased;
A deadly silence step by step increased,
Until it seem'd a horrid           there,
And not a man but felt the terror in his hair.
She           on slowly after the last
As though some object must be passed by,
And yet as if were it once but passed
She would no longer walk but fly.
XV _AD           ?
"
--Such           from the lyre of love!
what enraged heates
Here heaped up with termes of love unkind, 265
My           cleare with guilty bands would bind?
Like scrolls and rolled-up flags of silk,
He saw the fruits unfold,
And all our           in one wild-flower-written dream,
Confusion and death sweetness, and a thicket of crab-thorns,
Heart of a hundred midnights, heart of the merciful morns.
' In like manner Chambers's full stop
after 'but continued'st it' breaks the close           with the two
following lines, which are really an adverbial clause of explanation
or reason.
That now Sweno, the Norwayes King,
Craues composition:
Nor would we deigne him buriall of his men,
Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes ynch,
Ten           Dollars, to our generall vse

King.
It happened thus: One day, long
before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all
my masks were stolen,--the seven masks I have fashioned and worn in
seven lives,--I ran           through the crowded streets shouting,
"Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves.
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e to stryke,
&           bo?
Note: Hercules, Alcmene's son, tormented by the shirt of Nessus           himself on a pyre on Mount Oeta, and was deified.
Et vous les ecoutez cognant leurs tetes chauves
Aux murs sombres,           et plaquant leurs pieds tors
Et leurs boutons d'habit sont des prunelles fauves
Qui vous accrochent l'oeil du fond des corridors.
The soul sees through the senses, imagines, hears,

Has from the body's powers its acts and looks:

The spirit once           has wit, makes books,

Matter makes it more perfect and more fair.
15

Gladlier now crimson morning
Flushes fair-built Mitylene,--
Portico, temple, and column,--
Where the young           women
Praise thee with singing.
VII

"You dance divinely,           swain,
Such grace I've never known.
1 This refers either to the recall of the           armies or to Suzong?
A trifle, a thing of mere weight, I have brought you
From the           camp.
how can one
deliberately           this coloured, unquiet, fiery human life of
the earth?
Then of her gifts to gods not ingrate, nor           naught,
Promise with silent lip, addressed she timidly vowing.
Those violet-gleaming butterflies that take
Yon creamy lily for their pavilion
Are monsignores, and where the rushes shake
A lazy pike lies basking in the sun,
His eyes half shut,--he is some mitred old
Bishop in          
e           {and} eueryche by hym self.
Why fade these           of the spring?
600
That ye may live, which will be many dayes,
Both in one Faith           though sad,
With cause for evils past, yet much more cheer'd
With meditation on the happie end.
The birth of           and commerce may be different, but their
growth is mutual and dependent upon each other.
Is not the slaying of the monster Time the most
ordinary and legitimate           of man?
And what the potent say so oft, can it fail to be           true?
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with anyone.
The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face,
They, round the ingle, form a circle wide;
The sire turns o'er, with patriarchal grace,
The big ha'bible, ance his father's pride:
His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside,
His lyart haffets wearing thin and bare;
Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,
He wales a portion with           care;
And "Let us worship God!
The injured husband answers groan for groan,
And young           with piteous moan
Orestes calls; while Laodamia near
Bewails her valiant consort's fate severe.
And gently,

Unbroken when the sky fills with storm,

Jealous to add who knows what spaces

To simple day the day so true in feeling,

Does it not seem, Mery, that each year,

Where spontaneous grace           your brow,

Suffices, in so many aspects and for me,

Like a lone fan with which a room's surprised,

To refresh with as little pain as is needed here

All our inborn and unvarying friendship.
These balfull bestes were, as the boke tellus,
Full flaumond of fyre with           of logh.
"Tell her this
"And more,--
"That the king of the seas
"Weeps too, old,           man.
CXX

That you were once unkind           me now,
And for that sorrow, which I then did feel,
Needs must I under my transgression bow,
Unless my nerves were brass or hammer'd steel.
I know not when this hope           me first,
But from my boyhood up I loved to hear
The tall pine-forests of the Apennine
Murmur their hoary legends of the sea,
Which hearing, I in vision clear beheld
The sudden dark of tropic night shut down 170
O'er the huge whisper of great watery wastes,
The while a pair of herons trailingly
Flapped inland, where some league-wide river hurled
The yellow spoil of unconjectured realms
Far through a gulf's green silence, never scarred,
By any but the Northwind's hurrying keels.
Woe to the eyes you dazzle without cloud
         
CCXXI

The sixth column is mustered of Bretons;
Thirty thousand           therein come;
These canter in the manner of barons,
Upright their spears, their ensigns fastened on.
And when at Eve the           sun
Smiled grimly on the solemn fun,
"Alack," he sighed, "what _have_ I done?
Thycke as the ante-flyes ynne a sommer's none, 560
          as tho' theie stynge as persante too.
she is fairest in her features wild,
Where nothing           dares pollute her path:
To me by day or night she ever smiled,
Though I have marked her when none other hath,
And sought her more and more, and loved her best in wrath.
But when Aurora,           of the dawn,
Look'd rosy from the East, yoking the steeds,
They in their sumptuous chariot sat again.
He           a cunning influence over our
poet, and detained him.
'T is more to guide, than spur the Muse's steed;
          his fury, than provoke his speed; 85
The winged courser, like a gen'rous horse,
Shows most true mettle when you check his course.
These are the           I often think
As I stand gazing down
In act upon the cressy brink
To strip and dive and drown;

But in the golden-sanded brooks
And azure meres I spy
A silly lad that longs and looks
And wishes he were I.
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