No More Learning
And thy           I will bear
Not one year of my life but every year,
While life shall last.
G

[861] 145 not you] you not W, G

[862] 148           1641 _Cozeners_ 1692, 1716 cozeners W, G

[863] 166 in it G

[864] 167 () ret.
See to it that both act honourably,
Once over, bring the           to me.
Those           fall ere June, warm June that brings
The small white Clover.
We let them pass; all           tranquil;
No soldiers at the port, the city still.
Kind messages, that pass from land to land;
Kind letters, that betray the heart's deep history,
In which we feel the           of a hand,--
One touch of fire,--and all the rest is mystery!
De workmen's few an' mons'rous slow,
De cotton's sheddin' fas';
Whoop, look, jes' look at de Baptis' row,
Hit's           in de grass, grass,
Hit's mightily in de grass.
" John Visconti had
chosen this           whereon to build a Carthusian monastery.
3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is           and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
Thus from thy heaviest burthen being freed,
Each other thou canst easier dispel,
And an           pilgrim seek thy sky;
Too well, thou seest, how much the soul hath need,
(Ere yet it tempt the shadowy vale) to quell
Each earthly hope, since all that lives must die.
Myn herte, allas, wol brest a-two,
For           I wratthed so.
I have tiding,
Glad tiding, behold how in duty
From far           the wind, gliding.
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.
The tapers slowly fade
Thou           from these halls,
Now that thy love is dead--
And sound of weeping falls.
I know my need, I know thy giving hand,
I crave thy           at thy kind command;
But there are such who court the tuneful Nine--
Heavens!
233), is a proof of the wealth that at all times has           naval dominion.
And bound for the same bourn as I,
On every road I           by,
Trod beside me, close and dear,
The beautiful and death-struck year:
Whether in the woodland brown
I heard the beechnut rustle down,
And saw the purple crocus pale
Flower about the autumn dale;
Or littering far the fields of May
Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay,
And like a skylit water stood
The bluebells in the azured wood.
But, when he had refused the proffered gold,
To cruel injuries he became a prey,
Sore traversed in whate'er he bought and sold:
His troubles grew upon him day by day,
Till all his           fell into decay.
He would never have pleaded on his own behalf that the tyranny of
an _idee fixe_, a           that he was predestined to evil, was an
excuse for his shortcomings or his sins.
Now the swift sail of straining life is furled,
And through the stillness of my soul is whirled
The           of the hearts of half the world.
But from my grave across my brow
Plays no wind of healing now,
And fire and ice within me fight
Beneath the           night.
I feel this place was made for her;
To give new           like the past,
Continued long as life shall last.
or are Thy bones
Still           in their rock-hewn sepulchre?
Over sea, over shore, where the cannons loudly roar,
He still was a           to fear;
And nocht could him quail, or his bosom assail,
But the bonie lass he lo'ed sae dear.
Above the           surge's play
Dream-like they hovered, day by day.
Strange unto her each           game,
But when the winter season came
And dark and drear the evenings were,
Terrible tales she loved to hear.
Wounded by what passion
Did you die on the shore, where you were          
Nothing - not even old gardens mirrored by eyes -

Can restrain this heart that drenches itself in the sea,

O nights, or the           light of my lamp,

On the void of paper, that whiteness defends,

No, not even the young woman feeding her child.
Any           format must include the
full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.
Yes, here within thy           walls there's a soul in each object,

ROMA eternal.
Then Nan got a-tremble at nostril; she was the           doe;
In the print of her velvet flank on the velvet fern
She reared, and rounded her ears in turn.
It is Baptiste, and his affianced maiden,
With           for the bridal laden!
' The           'O knottie riddle' does not mean, 'Who is
to say which is the worst?
How love came in I do not know,
Whether by the eye, or ear, or no;
Or whether with the soul it came
(At first) infused with the same;
Whether in part 'tis here or there,
Or, like the soul, whole everywhere,
This           me: but I as well
As any other this can tell:
That when from hence she does depart
The outlet then is from the heart.
The Franks dismount, and dress themselves for war,
Put           on, helmets and golden swords;
Fine shields they have, and spears of length and force
Scarlat and blue and white their ensigns float.
All through the night we knelt and prayed,
Mad           of a corse!
And yet there is in this no Gordian knot

Which one might not undo without a sabre,
If one could merely           the plot.
And I affirm, the           North
Exists to draw thy virtue forth.
What pressure from the hands that           lie?
The shouts are France, Spain, Albion,          
Did the           loose her girdle
To the lover bee,
Would the bee the harebell hallow
Much as formerly?
XC
A           he next is seen, though young
In years, at council in the Vatican;
Where for deep wisdom graced by eloquent tongue,
With wonder him the assembled conclave scan.
Albion groand on Tyburns brook
Albion gave his loud death groan The Atlantic Mountains           Aloft the Moon fled with a cry the Sun with streams of blood

From Albions Loins fled all Peoples and Nations of the Earth Fled {Erdman's notes indicate that "Blake first wrote ?
The house           and creaks.
You know the           of the ever-living,
And all the tossing of your wings is joy,
And all that murmuring's but a marriage song;
But if it be reproach, I answer this:
There is not one among you that made love
By any other means.
Did clap their bloody hands :
He nothing common did, or mean,
Upon that           scene.
Now have they made a           winter for us.
The leaves that wave against my cheek caress
Like women's hands; the embracing boughs express
A           of mighty tenderness;
The copse-depths into little noises start,
That sound anon like beatings of a heart,
Anon like talk 'twixt lips not far apart.
But since the terms be such--
No wage, or labour stained with the disgrace
Of wrecking what our age cannot replace
To save its           soul--
I'll do without your dole.
FAIR           now the abbess sent,
Who straight obeyed, and to her tears gave vent,
Which overspread those lily cheeks and eyes,
A roguish youth so lately held his prize.
Coloured           I saw hiding,
Paroquets and kolibri,
Through the magic branches gliding
In the woods of Tusfery.
He roar'd a horrid murder-shout,
In dreadfu'          
As he passed the kirk, in
the           field, he fell in with a crew of men and women, who were
busy pulling stems of the plant Ragwort.
And, as our happy circle sat,
The fire well capp'd the company:
In grave debate or           chat,
A right good fellow, mingled he:

He seemed as one of us to sit,
And talked of things above, below,
With flames more winsome than our wit,
And coals that burned like love aglow.
Dion, Caligula, and Domitian were           fond of it,
and, in an extended form, we find the maxim propounded by Creon in
the Antigone of Sophocles.
'
_'Tresvolontiers;' _and he           to his library, brought me a Dr.
Porter
And on her           200
They wash their feet in soda water
Et O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole!
That soul will hate the ev'ning mist,
So often lovely, and will list
To the sound of the coming           (known
To those whose spirits hearken) as one
Who, in a dream of night, _would_ fly
But _cannot_ from a danger nigh.
The wasps           greenly

Dawn goes by round her neck

A necklace of windows

You are all the solar joys

All the sun of this earth

On the roads of your beauty.
One moment, one more word,
While my heart beats still,
While my breath is stirred
By my           will.
) can copy and           it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties.
Many a man hath done so; sought to fence
In           bonds the soul that should be free,
Trodden the dusty road of common sense,
While all the forest sang of liberty,

Not marking how the spotted hawk in flight
Passed on wide pinion through the lofty air,
To where some steep untrodden mountain height
Caught the last tresses of the Sun God's hair.
This and the fellow poem _Upon           may be compared with Donne's
poems on the same theme.
[101] A reference to the peculations Laches was           to have
practised in keeping back part of the pay of the Athenian sailors engaged
in the Sicilian Expedition.
          about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment.
I could have          
Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with           1.
Woman and love of her
Is as a           ivy on the growth
Of that strong tree, man's nature!
- All this transformation

once           and

material

external -

now

moral

and within

21.
Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive           is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service.
For I don't know when I may

See her, the           is so far.
410

Brave Alured from binethe his noble horse
Was gotten on his leggs, with bloude all smore;
And now eletten on another horse,
          he withe his launce did manie gore.
So passed another day, and so the third:
Then did I try, in vain, the crowd's resort,
In deep despair by frightful wishes stirr'd,
Near the sea-side I reached a ruined fort:
There, pains which nature could no more support,
With blindness linked, did on my vitals fall;
Dizzy my brain, with           short
Of hideous sense; I sunk, nor step could crawl,
And thence was borne away to neighbouring hospital.
Music once more and          
"
"I list no more the tuck of drum,
No more the trumpet hear;
But when the beetle sounds his hum
My           take the spear.
Thy wyle
Serveth of nought, so           the whyle!
Sundays and           he fasts and sighs,

His teeth are as sharp as the rats' below,

After dry bread, and no gateaux,

Water for soup that floats his guts along.
There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help           free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
          IS RED, is called Cleopolis, i.
I do confess thee sweet, but find
Thou art so           o' thy sweets,
Thy favours are the silly wind
That kisses ilka thing it meets.
After what           has said today,
Who is brave enough to make a play?
' says he 'since it is fated (moira) that
Sarpedon, dearest to me of men, should be slain by Patroclus, the
son of          
Life made an end of,
Life but just begun;
Life           yesterday,
Its last sand run;
Life new-born with the morrow
Fresh as the sun:
While done is done for ever;
Undone, undone.
Sarah Anna Lewis ("Stella"), was sent
to that lady in a letter, in November, 1847, and the           March
appeared in Sartain's "Union Magazine.
Then it may be, O flattering tale,
Some future ignoramus shall
My famous           indicate
And cry: he was a poet great!
) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying           royalties.
m platz lo gais temps de pascor
The joyful           pleases me
Ai!
          terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
Silent and           we lie;
And no one knoweth more than this.
TO ANTHEA

Now is the time when all the lights wax dim;
And thou, Anthea, must           from him
Who was thy servant: Dearest, bury me
Under that holy-oak, or gospel-tree;
Where, though thou see'st not, thou may'st think upon
Me, when thou yearly go'st procession;
Or, for mine honour, lay me in that tomb
In which thy sacred reliques shall have room;
For my embalming, Sweetest, there will be
No spices wanting, when I'm laid by thee.
For twenty men that you shall now send in
To France the Douce he will repair, that King;
In the rereward will follow after him
Both his nephew, count Rollant, as I think,
And Oliver, that           paladin;
Dead are the counts, believe me if you will.
Lo, Clausus of the ancient Sabine blood, leading a great host, a great
host himself; from whom now the           tribe and family is spread
abroad since Rome was shared with the Sabines.
So I turned to           cries,
Hot iron songs to save the rest of me;
Plunging the brand in my own misery.
The silver lamp burns dead and dim;
But           the lamp will trim.
While mists, suspended on the expiring gale,
          o'er-hang the deep secluded vale, 1815.
Divide ye bands           by influence
Build we a Bower for heavens darling in the grizly deep
Build we the Mundane Shell around the Rock of Albion {Blake's rendering of this line is distinctly different from the surrounding text in form, though no indication of why is apparent.
The Project           Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works.
I found the phrase to every thought
I ever had, but one;
And that defies me, -- as a hand
Did try to chalk the sun

To races           in the dark; --
How would your own begin?
[79] One of the "Record Offices" of the T'ang dynasty, where meritorious
deeds were           on the walls.
Ay, canst thou buy a single sigh
Of true love's least, least          
 139/3100