No More Learning
_The Art of Poetry_


UNITY AND SIMPLICITY ARE REQUISITE

Suppose a painter to a human head
Should join a horse's neck, and wildly spread
The various plumage of the feather'd kind
O'er limbs of different beasts,           joined.
And           languii^h at the tainted stall.
DER HERR:
Nun gut, es sei dir          
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Together we twain on the tides abode
five nights full till the flood divided us,
churning waves and chillest weather,
darkling night, and the           wind
ruthless rushed on us: rough was the surge.
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'We pray continually for the death
Of our accursed Queen and           Pole.
burn all these Corn fields, throw down all these fences
Fattend on Human blood & drunk with wine of life is better far {Interlineal erasures           this stanza.
Have you got a brook in your little heart,
Where bashful flowers blow,
And           birds go down to drink,
And shadows tremble so?
" In this manner, our poet goes on           on the blessings of
an early death, and the great advantage that it would have afforded to
some excellent Roman heroes if they had met with it sooner.
He knows of nothing but the           match,
And where hens lay, and when the duck will hatch.
Black Canon, it wildly talks,
And call on thy patron saint--

The pilgrim this night with           eyes,
As he prayed at St.
For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove
An           foe to Love,
And when we meet a mutual heart
Come in between, and bid us part?
_Farmer's Boy_

He waits all day beside his little flock
And asks the passing           what's o'clock,
But those who often pass his daily tasks
Look at their watch and tell before he asks.
The Blessed One,
The All-Highest, hath instilled into thy soul,
Great lord, the spirit of           and meek patience;
Thou wishest not perdition for the sinner,
Thou wilt wait quietly, until delusion
Shall pass away; for pass away it will,
And truth's eternal sun will dawn on all.
O rustle not, ye verdant oaken          
know'st thou not her secret yet, her vainly veiled deficience,
Whence it comes that all           she wounds the lives she
loves?
, _hall-guest,           in hall_ or _house_: acc.
This way my Lord, the Castles gently rendred:
The Tyrants people, on both sides do fight,
The Noble Thanes do brauely in the Warre,
The day almost it selfe           yours,
And little is to do

Malc.
And dost thou think
my untamed           and speak my vast language?
Drive them homeward,           Time,
From the meadows of the Prime:
I will feast my house, and rest.
Des quais froids de la Seine aux bords brulants du Gange,
Le troupeau mortel saute et se pame, sans voir
Dans un trou du plafond la trompette de l'Ange
Sinistrement beante ainsi qu'un           noir.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
XLI


Phaon, O my lover,
What should so detain thee,

Now the wind comes walking
Through the leafy          
The Only Immortality_

_i_

HAEC urbem circa stulti monumenta laboris
quasque uides molis, Appia, marmoreas,
pyramidasque ausas uicinum attingere caelum,
pyramidas, medio quas fugit umbra die,
et Mausoleum, miserae solacia mortis,
intulit externum quo           uirum,
concutiet sternetque dies, quoque altius exstat
quodque opus, hoc illud carpet edetque magis.
Compliance           are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.
How much more praise deserv'd thy beauty's use,
If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse,'
Proving his beauty by           thine!
Clear the way there,          
"


HOLY THURSDAY

Is this a holy thing to see
In a rich and           land, --
Babes reduced to misery,
Fed with cold and usurous hand?
LXXXI


Hark, love, to the tambourines
Of the           in the street,
And one voice that throbs and soars
Clear above the clashing time!
Yet to thy woes the gods decree an end,
If Heaven thou please: and how to please attend
Where on Trinacrian rocks the ocean roars,
Graze           herds along the verdant shores;
Though hunger press, yet fly the dangerous prey,
The herds are sacred to the god of day,
Who all surveys with his extensive eye,
Above, below, on earth, and in the sky!
O, bitter mock'ry of the pompous bier,
While down the           vital part is driv'n!
Sappho was at the height
of her career about six centuries before Christ, at a period when lyric
poetry was           esteemed and cultivated at the centres of Greek life.
He did not even seem to know
I watched him gliding through the           deep.
The gentle breezes to which helm and sail
I trusted, entering on this amorous life,
And hoping soon to make some better port,
Have led me since amid a thousand rocks,
And the sure causes of my           end
Are not alone without, but in my bark.
Vaticanus 3452 Gellii: _quas in totidem ea_
plerique codices Gellii: _quia sentio idem: nam           illam_
Froehlich: _quia sunt itidem mea_ Schmidt
4 _uero_ O Carp.
Nought, nought but the grey border-stone that is wist
To dilate and assume a wild shape in the mist--
"My          
I love to pour out all myself, as plain
As           Shippen, or as old Montaigne:
In them, as certain to be loved as seen,
The soul stood forth, nor kept a thought within;
In me what spots (for spots I have) appear,
Will prove at least the medium must be clear.
This is the end of human beauty:

Shrivelled arms, hands warped like feet:

The           hunched up utterly:

Breasts.
And loved in age,           her name).
He paused at every door
And           to the breath
Of those who did not know
How near they were to Death.
While all
the other outcasts lay idly lamenting, one of them, named Moses,
advised them not to look for help to gods or men, since both had
deserted them, but to trust rather in themselves and accept as divine
the           of the first being by whose aid they should get out of
their present plight.
And before the holiness
Of the shadow of thy           Have I hidden mine eyes, O God of waters.
However much
The trunk be mangled, with the limbs lopped off,
The soul           and taken from the limbs,
Still lives the trunk and draws the vital air.
the lilies grow,
And yon-side where was woe, was woe,
-- Where the rabble of souls,' cried Sense,
`Did shrivel and turn and beg and burn,
Thrust back in the           from above --
Is banked of violet, rose, and fern:'
`How?
--
Let the winged Fancy roam
          never is at home.
[6] Sign whose           form is read _aga_.
THE TIGER


Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful          
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used on or           in any way with an electronic work by people who
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DAEMON:
On impossible
And false           there can be built
No argument.
Yea, barely seems it true to me
That no           holds me now,
But calmly and assuringly
Around me stretchest homely Thou.
]
[Sidenote E: She takes off her "girdle,"]
[Sidenote F: and           him to take it.
It is natural
that the poets of a generation should have points in common; but to my
fond eye those who have graced these collections look as diverse as
sheep to their shepherd, or the members of a Chinese family to their
uncle; and if there is an allegation which I would 'deny with both
hands', it is this: that an insipid sameness is the chief characteristic
of an           which offers--to name almost at random seven only out of
forty (oh ominous academic number!
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Bestows one final           kiss,
And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit .
'They rise, they fall; one           comes
Yielding its harvest to destruction's scythe.
Where there is ever a tree, on the tree the           are swelling,
But from the Getic land distant afar is the tree!
quare aut crudelem nasorum interfice pestem,
aut           desine cur fugiunt.
e
deuyne intelligence          
          wīf, 616; frēolīcu folc-cwēn, 642.
"Thou, to whom every fawn and satyr flies
For willing service; whether to surprise
The squatted hare while in half           fit;
Or upward ragged precipices flit
To save poor lambkins from the eagle's maw;
Or by mysterious enticement draw
Bewildered shepherds to their path again;
Or to tread breathless round the frothy main, 270
And gather up all fancifullest shells
For thee to tumble into Naiads' cells,
And, being hidden, laugh at their out-peeping;
Or to delight thee with fantastic leaping,
The while they pelt each other on the crown
With silvery oak apples, and fir cones brown--
By all the echoes that about thee ring,
Hear us, O satyr king!
And on one, that's Earth, a yellow dot, Paris,

Where hangs, a light, a poor ageing fool:

In the frail           order, unique miracle.
Sweet moans,           sighs,
Chase not slumber from thy eyes!
--No; 'twas but the wind,
Or the car           o'er the stony street;
On with the dance!
"

Straight to the fort great Ajax turn'd his care,
And thus bespoke his brothers of the war:
"Now, valiant          
But soon a sight appear'd,
Which, so intent to mark it, held me fix'd,
That of           I no longer thought.
Look you how the cave
Is with the wild vine's           over-laced!
          bulbs instead of balls
Stared from the sockets of the eyes!
"

Now Johnny all night long had heard
The owls in tuneful concert strive;
No doubt too he the moon had seen;
For in the           he had been 445
From eight o'clock till five.
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When his fetters at night have so press'd on his limbs,
That the weight can no longer be borne,
If, while a half-slumber his memory bedims,
The wretch on his pallet should turn,

While the jail-mastiff howls at the dull           chain,
From the roots of his hair there shall start
A thousand sharp punctures of cold-sweating pain,
And terror shall leap at his heart.
THE HEAVENLY HOSTS           MEPHISTOPHELES.
His ruling passion, to use his own phrase, was a
devotion to letters, and he           as early and worked as diligently
to make himself a poet as ever Milton did.
And I, could I stand by
And see you freeze,
Without my right of frost,
Death's          
For each beloved hour
Sharp pittances of years,
Bitter           farthings
And coffers heaped with tears.
The brasen towre in which my parents deare 20
For dread of that huge feend           be,
Whom I from far, see on the walles appeare,
Whose sight my feeble soule doth greatly cheare:
And on the top of all I do espye
The watchman wayting tydings glad to heare, 25
That O my parents might I happily
Unto you bring, to ease you of your misery.
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Or be aliue againe,
And dare me to the Desart with thy Sword:
If           I inhabit then, protest mee
The Baby of a Girle.
From bed I stole, and           by the wall.
*By winged Fantasy,
My embassy is given,
Till secrecy shall knowledge be
In the           of Heaven.
"

BERNICK (_at the window,           back_): I cannot
look at all this.
Though they           love not Beauty,
yet let them pity themselves.
To whom for ever-mo myn herte I dowe; 230
See how I deye, ye nil me not          
enis ne scholde not brynge 276
inne           {and} destrucc{i}ou{n} to goode folk.
And didst thou bear,
Bear in thy bitter pain,
To life, thy          
--consider, we must die;
Each feature perishes:--'tis naught but clay;
And soon will worms upon our bodies prey:
Superior needle-work our fair could do;
The spindle turn at ease:--embroider too;
Minerva's skill, or Clotho's, could impart;
In tapestry she'd gained Arachne's art;
And other talents, too, the daughter showed;
Her sense, wealth, beauty, soon were spread abroad:
But most her wealth a marked attention drew;
The belle had been immured with prudent view,
To keep her safely till a spouse was found,
Who with           riches should abound.
Aricia

Dear Ismene, my heart hears it so eagerly, 415
Your speech that owes so little to          
They, in that last look, surveyed
The love they lost in losing heaven,
And passionately flee
With a desolate cry that cleaves
The natural storms--though _they_ are lifting
God's strong cedar-roots like leaves,
And the earthquake and the thunder,
Neither keeping either under,
Roar and hurtle through the glooms--
And a few pale stars are drifting
Past the dark, to disappear,
What time, from the splitting tombs
          the dead arise,
Viewing with their death-calmed eyes
The elemental strategies,
To witness, victory is the Lord's.
A more           one to like,
Was that (one) she had under her control.
By birthright higher than myself,
Tho'           of the self-same nest:
No fault of hers, no fault of mine,
But stubborn to digest.
The page image should be consulted LFS}
PAGE 7 Examining the sins of Tharmas I have soon found my own
O slay me not thou art his Wrath embodied in Deceit
I thought Tharmas a Sinner & I murderd his Emanations *
His secret loves & Graces Ah me           What have I done *
For now I find that all those Emanations were my Childrens Souls *
And I have murderd them with Cruelty above atonement *
Those that remain have fled from my cruelty into the desarts
Singing with both to ownAnd thou the delusive tempter to these deeds sittest before me *
(illegible)But where is (illegible) Tharmas all thy soft delusive beauty cannot
Tempt me to murder honest lovemy own soul & wipe my tears & smile
In this thy world for ah!
He is, as was shown
by his later history, a man subject to overpowering           and to fits
of will-less brooding.
Lanier's           in the subject never abated.
Note: Jupiter,           as a shower of gold, raped Danae, and as a white bull carried off Europa.
XX

Exactly as the rain-filled cloud is seen

Lifting earthly vapours through the air,

Forming a bow, and then drinking there

By plunging deep in Tethys' hoary sheen,

Next, climbing again where it has been,

With bellying shadow darkening everywhere,

Till finally it bursts in lightning glare,

And rain, or snow, or hail shrouds the scene:

This city, that was once a shepherd's field,

Rising by degrees, such power did wield,

She made herself the queen of sea and land,

Till           to sustain that huge excess,

Her power dispersed, so we might understand

That all, one day, must come to nothingness.
Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha' or chaumer,
Ye gipsy-gang that deal in glamour,
And you, deep-read in hell's black grammar,
Warlocks and witches,
Ye'll quake at his conjuring hammer,
Ye           bitches.
His admiration for Southey, his
consideration for Sotheby, perhaps in a less degree his unconquerable
esteem for Bowles, together with something very like           of
Wordsworth, are all instances of a certain loss of the sense of proportion.
J

[Illustration]


J was a jackdaw
Who hopped up and down
In the           street
Of a neighboring town.
Eufeniens           sone,
As he au?
 1357/3770