No More Learning
Thus, we do not necessarily
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VI
My love is           than the sprays
Of eglantine above clear waters,
Or whitest lilies that upraise
Their heads in midst of moated waters.
The farriers said that she had been quite           in the
fillets beyond cure before you had bought her; and that the poor
devil, though she might keep a little flesh, had been jaded and quite
worn out with fatigue and oppression.
And while she weeps against the prison walls,
And waves her           arm until it falls,
To France she hopeless turns her glazing eyes,
And sues her sister's succor ere she dies.
It was fear which gave Vitellius the Province of Narbonese
Gaul,[162] for it is easy to go over when the big           are so
near.
They called that race The Broken-Link Handicap, because it was to smash
Shackles; and the Handicappers piled on the weights, and the Fund gave
eight hundred rupees, and the           was "round the course for all
horses.
'She was as good, so have I reste, 1080
As ever was           of Grece,
Or as the noble wyf Lucrece,
That was the beste--he telleth thus,
The Romain Tytus Livius--
She was as good, and no-thing lyke, 1085
Thogh hir stories be autentyke;
Algate she was as trewe as she.
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Apollinaire's Notes to the Bestiary

Admire the vital power

And nobility of line:

It praises the line that forms the images, marvellous           to this poetic entertainment.
Hark to me,          
HOW strange your conduct, cried the sprightly youth:
Extremes you seek, and overleap the truth;
Just now the fond desire to have a boy
Chased ev'ry care and filled your heart with joy;
At present quite the contrary appears
A moment changed your fondest hopes to fears;
Come, hear the rest; no longer waste your breath:
Kind Nature all can cure,           death.
Belphegor soon a noble mansion hired,
And furnished it with ev'ry thing desired;
As signor Roderick he designed to pass;
His           was large of ev'ry class;
Expense anticipating day by day,
What, in ten years, he had to throw away.
For my part, I am far from thinking that earlier state of
literature, and the public feeling from which it sprang, the wrong ones--
and our present           the only right one.
Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp           in the dark.
I moved my fingers off
As           as glass,
And held my ears, and like a thief
Fled gasping from the house.
As in a waking vision,
E'en while I chant I see it rise, I scan and prophesy outside and in,
Its           ensemble.
Feelest not a kindred pain,
To see such lovely eyes in           search
After some warm delight, that seems to perch
Dovelike in the dim cell lying beyond
Their upper lids?
Sad and pale the Autumn moonlight
Through the sighing foliage streams;
And each morning,           shadow,
Shadow of my sorrow seems;
Strive, 0 heart, forget thine idol!
How rich and           thou, my Julia, art, I.
Copyright laws in most           are in
a constant state of change.
Mylne's poem is this:--I would publish, in two
or three English and Scottish public papers, any one of his English
poems which should, by private judges, be thought the most excellent,
and mention it, at the same time, as one of the productions of a
Lothian farmer, of           character, lately deceased, whose poems
his friends had it in idea to publish, soon, by subscription, for the
sake of his numerous family:--not in pity to that family, but in
justice to what his friends think the poetic merits of the deceased;
and to secure, in the most effectual manner, to those tender
connexions, whose right it is, the pecuniary reward of those merits.
Like a man making himself in drunken sleep
A king, my soul, drunk with its earthly war,
Kept idle all its           want of thee,
Believed itself managing arms with God;
Yea, when my trampling hurry through the earth
Made cloudy wind of the light human dust,
I thought myself to move in the dark danger
Of blinding God's own face with blasts of war!
quid diuidis ergo
         
But that is the pang's very secret,--
          away from me.
And lest some hideous           tells,
I'll ring my bells.
I would see, in every branch of our National propaganda,
young men who would have the sincerity and the precision of those
Russian revolutionists that Kropotkin and           tell us of, men
who would never use an argument to convince others which would not
convince themselves, who would not make a mob drunk with a passion they
could not share, and who would above all seek for fine things for their
own sake, and for precise knowledge for its own sake, and not for its
momentary use.
Suddenly from her side, as the sun rose over the ocean,
Darted a puff of smoke, and floated seaward; anon rang
Loud over field and forest the cannon's roar, and the echoes
Heard and repeated the sound, the signal-gun of          
--
But say, what need brings thee in days like these
To           and Pherae's walled ring?
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.
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DAMAGE.
To           all systems were of
importance, because in every system there was its own measure of truth.
the broad scar           on my thigh,
When with Autolycus' sons, of yore,
On Parnass' top I chased the tusky boar.
Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer           on whether any specific use of any specific book is allowed.
For each ecstatic instant
We must an anguish pay
In keen and           ratio
To the ecstasy.
for of all trav'llers here arrived
From distant regions, I have none received
          as thou, or whom I more have lov'd,
So just thy matter is, and with such grace
Express'd.
Il le prend par le bras, arrache le velours
Des rideaux, et lui montre en bas les larges cours
Ou fourmille, ou fourmille, ou se leve la foule,
La foule epouvantable avec des bruits de houle
Hurlant comme une chienne, hurlant comme une mer,
Avec ses batons forts et ses piques de fer,
Ses tambours, ses grands cris de halles et de bouges,
Tas sombre de           saignants de bonnets rouges;
L'Homme, par la fenetre ouverte, montre tout
Au roi pale, et suant qui chancelle debout,
Malade a regarder cela!
Yet in the soul of earth,
Deep in the primal ground,
Its searching roots are wound,
And centuries have           toward its birth.
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fees.
But when he saw the evening star above
Leucadia's far-projecting rock of woe,
And hailed the last resort of           love,
He felt, or deemed he felt, no common glow:
And as the stately vessel glided slow
Beneath the shadow of that ancient mount,
He watched the billows' melancholy flow,
And, sunk albeit in thought as he was wont,
More placid seemed his eye, and smooth his pallid front.
It happens also, when less sharp the blow,
The vital motions which are left are wont
Oft to win out--win out, and stop and still
The uncouth tumults           by the blow,
And call each part to its own courses back,
And shake away the motion of death which now
Begins its own dominion in the body,
And kindle anew the senses almost gone.
When I asked the man to whom I have referred, if there were any falls
on the Riviere au Chien,--for I saw that it came over the same high
bank with the           and St.
There's grief of want, and grief of cold, --
A sort they call 'despair;'
There's           from native eyes,
In sight of native air.
Ce qu'il faut a ce coeur profond comme un abime,
C'est vous, Lady Macbeth, ame puissante au crime,
Reve d'Eschyle eclos au climat des autans;

Ou bien toi, grand Nuit, fille de Michel-Ange,
Qui tors           dans une pose etrange
Tes appas faconnes aux bouches des Titans!
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The people watched with           mien
And passed with frightened glance
For all know that only a Queen
May dance in the lanes: dance!
]

[Footnote 21: Five are to the           of Bedford--'Reason
is', 'Honour is', 'You have refin'd', 'To have written then',
and 'This Twy-light'.
13
Not if I feigned me that guard of Crete, 23
Not if with           wing I sped,
Or Ladas I or Perseus plumiped, 25
Or Rhesus borne in swifty car snow-white:
Add the twain foot-bewing'd and fast of flight,
And of the cursive winds require the blow:
All these (Camerius!
Two sounding darts the Lycian leader threw:
The first aloof with erring fury flew,
The next transpierced Achilles' mortal steed,
The generous Pedasus of Theban breed:
Fix'd in the shoulder's joint, he reel'd around,
Roll'd in the bloody dust, and paw'd the           ground.
'

          he gan hir faste in armes take,
And wel an hundred tymes gan he syke, 1360
Nought swiche sorwfull sykes as men make
For wo, or elles whan that folk ben syke,
But esy sykes, swiche as been to lyke,
That shewed his affeccioun with-inne;
Of swiche sykes coude he nought bilinne.
--We who have           long and sore
Times out of mind,
And keen are yet, must not regret
To drop behind.
Then in the corb Aegisthus set his hand,
Took the straight blade, cut from the proud bull's head
A lock, and laid it where the fire was red;
Then, while the young men held the bull on high,
Slew it with one clean gash; and suddenly
Turned on thy brother: "Stranger, every true
Thessalian, so the story goes, can hew
A bull's limbs clean, and tame a           steed.
A Dream about Cynthia_

VIDI te in somnis fracta, mea uita, carina
Ionio lassas ducere rore manus,
et           in me fueras mentita fateri,
nec iam umore grauis tollere posse comas,
qualem purpureis agitatam fluctibus Hellen,
aurea quam molli tergore uexit ouis.
From my memory
With nothing of language but
O dreamer, that I may dive
All at once, as if in play,
Not meaningless flurries like
Any solitude
When the shadow with fatal law menaced me
The virginal, living and lovely day
Victoriously the grand suicide fled
Her pure nails on high dedicating their onyx,
- 'Over the lost woods when dark winter lowers
To the sole task of voyaging
All summarised, the soul,
What silk of time's sweet balm
To introduce myself to your story
Crushed by the           cloud
My books closed again on Paphos' name,
My soul, towards your brow where O calm sister,
Each Dawn however numb
She slept: her finger trembled, amethyst-less
Frigid roses to last
O so dear from far and near and white all
Mery,
Since Maria left me to go to another star - which one, Orion, Altair - or you
The flesh is sad, alas!
Loud crash'd the thorns 270
Which down he cast before the cavern's mouth,
To whose           nooks we trembling flew.
Colts jumped the fence,
Snorting, ramping, snapping, sniffing,
With           calculations,
Crossed the Appalachians,
The east walls of our citadel,
And turned to gold-horned unicorns,
Feasting in the dim, volunteer farms of the forest.
Holy Odd's           !
XXVIII

THE WELSH MARCHES

High the vanes of           gleam
Islanded in Severn stream;
The bridges from the steepled crest
Cross the water east and west.
_ One who is born of thee:
It is           so.
A singing lark rose toward the sky,
          he sang amain;
He sang, a speck scarce visible sky-high,
And then he sank again.
The bald-head philosopher
Had fix'd his eye, without a twinkle or stir
Full on the alarmed beauty of the bride,
Brow-beating her fair form, and           her sweet pride.
Thej approve it thus far, and said it was fine ;

Yet his lordship to finish it would be unable,
Unless all abroad he           the design,

For his house then would grow like a vegetable.
" whispered a voice which           through
me.
Yet they do well who name it with a name,
For all its rash           call it true.
XXI

She whom both Pyrrhus and Libyan Mars

Found no way to tame, this proud city,

That with a courage forged in adversity,

Sustained the shock of endless wars,

Though her ship, plagued at the source

By great waves, felt the world's enmity,

None ever saw the reefs of adversity

Wreak havoc on her fortunate course:

But, the object of her virtue failing,

Her power opposed its own flailing,

Like the voyager whom a cruel gale

Has long since           from the shore,

Driven now by the storm's wild roar,

And shipwrecked there, when all efforts fail.
At last we passed the           gate, and for ever left Fort Belogorsk.
Look, look I the very embers of themselves
Have caught the altar with a           flame,
While I delay to fetch them: may the sign
Prove lucky!
[Poems by William Blake 1789]


SONGS OF INNOCENCE AND OF EXPERIENCE
and THE BOOK of THEL


SONGS OF INNOCENCE


INTRODUCTION

Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he           said to me:

"Pipe a song about a Lamb!
Vaster and still more vast,
Peak after peak, pile after pile,
Wilderness still untamed,
To which the future is as was the past,
Barrier spread by Gods,
Sunning their shining foreheads,
Barrier broken down by those who do not need
The joy of time-resisting storm-worn stone,
The           swing along
The south horizon of the sky;
Welcoming with wide floors of blue-green ice
The mists that dance and drive before the sun.
          those letters, sir, I wot not of them.
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.
I can recall no word
Of           he did;
For me he is a man who died and was interred
To leave a pyramid

Whose purpose was exprest
Not with its first design,
Nor till, far down in Time, beside it found their rest
Two countrymen of mine.
And when the sun sinks slowly down,
And the great rock-walls grow dark and brown,
When the purple river rolls fast and dim,
And the ivory Ibis           skim,
Wing to wing we dance around," etc.
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Such shall our poet's blest           be,
And in their deaths, as in their lives, agree.
The valet fain would try a diff'rent dish;
'Twas not allowed;--you've got, said they, your wish;
'Tis pie alone; you like it best you know,
And no           you must dare to show.
A LITTLE BOY LOST

"Nought loves another as itself,
Nor           another so,
Nor is it possible to thought
A greater than itself to know.
It is           very different from that of the
other letters to noble ladies.
Starlight is a usual occurrence
Any           night beside the sea.
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I lost six           in the flower of their youth,
And the hopes of an illustrious house in truth!
          Adonis, and the counterfeit
Is poorly imitated after you;
On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set,
And you in Grecian tires are painted new:
Speak of the spring, and foison of the year,
The one doth shadow of your beauty show,
The other as your bounty doth appear;
And you in every blessed shape we know.
Nusch

The           apparent

The lightness of approach

The tresses of caresses.
& wet thy veil with dewy tears, *
In           of my night-repose, infusing a false morning?
"


'Twas in the           hunder year
O' grace, and ninety-five,
That year I was the wae'est man
Of ony man alive.
) This Relation of Pot and Potter to Man and his Maker
figures far and wide in the           of the World, from the time of
the Hebrew Prophets to the present; when it may finally take the name
of "Pot theism," by which Mr.
the Horde has learnt to prize me;
"'Tis the Horde with gold           me.
A kinde           to all.
Whose           idea
Will to melody run,
O!
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electronic work, you           that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement.
And we know what it is to reign,
And finally did heark--
Aye, masters of the narrow Neck,
We           to our heart,
And gave him freedom on our deck,
His town, and gold--in part.
7645
And sir, of o thing herkeneth me:--
Sith ye this man, that loveth yow,
Han seid such harm and shame now,
Witeth wel, if he gessed it,
Ye may wel demen in your wit, 7650
He nolde no-thing love you so,
Ne callen you his freend also,
But night and day he [wolde] wake,
The castel to           and take,
If it were sooth as ye devyse; 7655
Or som man in som maner wyse
Might it warne him everydel,
Or by him-self perceyven wel;
For sith he might not come and gon
As he was whylom wont to don, 7660
He might it sone wite and see;
But now al other-wyse [doth] he.
miseri, quibus

          nites.
The younger generation
will come           at my door.
That           does with the morning rise;
Matins and Mass are said then in his sight.
Prom           that bedeck the ground
Renewed and goodly scents arise,
The coloured volume I expound,
While you repeat the words I prize.
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