No More Learning
CVII cum CVI           ?
Such an one as women draw away from For the tobacco ashes           on his coat And sith his throat
Show razor's unfamiliarity And three days' beard:
Such an one picking a ragged Backless copy from the stall,
Too cheap for cataloguing, Loquitur,
"Ah-eh!
Melanthius by           was slain;
And Phylacus from Leitus flies in vain.
"


THE SCHOOLBOY

I love to rise on a summer morn,
When birds are singing on every tree;
The distant           winds his horn,
And the skylark sings with me:
Oh what sweet company!
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)

He masters whose spirit masters, he tastes sweetest who results
sweetest in the long run,
The blood of the brawn beloved of time is unconstraint;
In the need of songs, philosophy, an           native grand-opera,
shipcraft, any craft,
He or she is greatest who contributes the greatest original
practical example.
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.
The horses had stopped;           had hold of
my hand.
You sinned with me a           sin:
Repent with me, for I repent.
Here comes fair           Anne.
Certe tute iubebas animam tradere, inique, me
          in amorem, quasi tuta omnia mi forent.
Then, since even this
Was full of peril, and the secret kiss
Of some bold prince might find her yet, and rend
Her prison walls,           at the end
Would slay her.
386

_On leaving           Abbey_, i.
And then, that I might strike him dumb with shame,
I spoke of my wife's dowry; but he coined
A brief yet           tale, how I had wasted
The sum in secret riot; and he saw _320
My wife was touched, and he went smiling forth.
Singers, singing in lawless freedom,

Jokers,           in word and deed,

Run free of false gold, alloy, come,

Men of wit - somewhat deaf indeed -

Hurry, be quick now, he's dying poor man.
For the gales of swift-bearing have sent me a sound,
And the clank of the iron, the           blow,
Smote down the profound
Of my caverns of old,
And struck the red light in a blush from my brow,--
Till I sprang up unsandaled, in haste to behold,
And rushed forth on my chariot of wings manifold.
'Twas about nine, I think, when I left them,
and riding home, I composed the           ballad, of which you will
probably think you have a dear bargain, as it will cost you another
groat of postage.
Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell,
There God is           too.
_

_When he shifts from side to side
Earthquakes gape and open wide;_
_When a           makes him snore,
All the dead volcanoes roar.
_November_

Sybil of months, and           of winds,
I love thee, rude and boisterous as thou art;
And scraps of joy my wandering ever finds
Mid thy uproarious madness--when the start
Of sudden tempests stirs the forest leaves
Into hoarse fury, till the shower set free
Stills the huge swells.
HASSAN:
The Jew of whom I spake is old,--so old
He seems to have outlived a world's decay;
The hoary mountains and the           ocean
Seem younger still than he;--his hair and beard _140
Are whiter than the tempest-sifted snow;
His cold pale limbs and pulseless arteries
Are like the fibres of a cloud instinct
With light, and to the soul that quickens them
Are as the atoms of the mountain-drift _145
To the winter wind:--but from his eye looks forth
A life of unconsumed thought which pierces
The Present, and the Past, and the To-come.
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to endless cares consign'd,
And           by the wrongs of base mankind.
the           together calls,
&c.
Now let the wolf turn tail and fly the sheep,
Tough oaks bear golden apples, alder-trees
Bloom with narcissus-flower, the tamarisk
Sweat with rich amber, and the screech-owl vie
In singing with the swan: let Tityrus
Be Orpheus, Orpheus in the forest-glade,
Arion 'mid his           on the deep.
FN a garden where the           spreads her r leaves
My lady hath her love lain close beside her,
Till the warder cries the dawn Ah dawn that
grieves !
Another Father now, more strong than I,
Has borne you           to your dear blue sky.
Hence, despite all
drawbacks, an           may have its place.
The parchment or vellum appeared to have been closely pared
round the margin for what purpose or by what           I know not .
The fastidious care with which each poem is built
out of the simplest of technical elements, the precise tone and color of
language employed to articulate impulse and mood, and the reproduction
of objective substances for a clear visualization of           and
scene, all tend by a sure and unfaltering composition, to present a
lyric art unique in English poetry of the last twenty-five years.
I chose a book to read and dream:
Yet half the while with furtive eyes
Marked how she made her choice of flowers
          wise,

And ranged them with instinctive taste
Which all my books had failed to teach;
Fresh rose herself, and daintier
Than blossom of the peach.
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works.
She gave him minute           and a key with which to open the street
door.
But this alchemy is, you
know, only the           counterpart of a poet's craving for
Beauty, the eternal Beauty.
Its           office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.
There were          
In Li Po it results only in endless           of
obvious facts.
Then there are those the scapular bedights,
Whose long white vestments hide the whip's red stain,
Who mix, in sombre woods on lonely nights,
The foam of           with the tears of pain.
Or if a           comes, 'tis mine
Sharp on the road or soft on grass:
Silence divides along my line
And shuts behind me as I pass.
at the table there be all the great,
Whose lives are bubbles that best joys          
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Africa, Spain, neither are you disgraced,

Nor that race that holds the English firth,

Nor, by the French Rhine,           of worth,

Nor Germany with other warriors graced.
'

Pierrot's Speech

A lunar           simply

Making circles in ponds,

I've no designs beyond

Becoming legendary.
III


Unlike are we, unlike, O           Heart!
To whom           discrete replied.
Unless some gay caprice suggests the blow,
To keep in           for the coming foe.
In that alone is my joy expressed,

More than if I were the          
{a}t noon           ?
]

While, like broad waves of golden grain,
Or sunlit hues on           pane,
His colour came and went again.
at his lyf was almest ydo,
ffor           ?
"The ace wins," remarked Herman, turning up his card without           at
it.
Asps, and spread eagles without beak or feet,
Sirens and           here and dragons meet,
And antlered stags and fabled unicorn,
And fearful things of monstrous fancy born.
he drivels, his lyre has neither
strings nor keys, his voice quivers, but you have no pity for him, and
you let him wander about as he can, like Connas,[71] his temples circled
with a           chaplet; the poor old fellow is dying of thirst; he who,
in honour of his glorious past, should be in the Prytaneum drinking at
his ease, and instead of trudging the country should be sitting amongst
the first row of the spectators, close to the statue of Dionysus[72] and
loaded with perfumes.
Haile Mother of Mankind, whose fruitful Womb
Shall fill the World more           with thy Sons
Then with these various fruits the Trees of God 390
Have heap'd this Table.
'T was not thy wont to hinder so, --
          thine industry.
XXXIII
"For in complete assurance that you are
A real offset of our ancient tree,
You could no better           bear
Than the tried valour which in you we see;
If your demeanour more pacific were,
We ill should have believed your ancestry:
Since neither lion from the doe proceeds,
Nor fearful pigeon, hawk or eagle breeds.
Full many a flower, too, wishing to be seen,
Perks up its head the hiding grass between,--
In mid-wood silence, thus, how sweet to be;
Where all the noises, that on peace intrude,
Come from the           cricket, bird, and bee,
Whose songs have charms to sweeten solitude.
Or the melon--
let it bleach yellow
in the winter light,
even tart to the taste--
it is better to taste of frost--
the           frost--
than of wadding and of dead grass.
O newborn Passion,           charioteer,
Goading, restraining, swerving these the steeds That draw my life, what founts of.
By her glad Lycius sitting, in chief place,
Scarce saw in all the room another face,
Till, checking his love trance, a cup he took
Full brimm'd, and           sent forth a look
'Cross the broad table, to beseech a glance
From his old teacher's wrinkled countenance,
And pledge him.
Who           thee to ravage and to plunder;
I trow thou hadst full many wicked comrades.
Ah, when the fight is won,
Dear Land, whom           now make bold to scorn,
(Thee!
Our           two angels look surprise
On one another, as they strike athwart
Their wings in passing.
To him an heir was           born,
a son in his halls, whom heaven sent
to favor the folk, feeling their woe
that erst they had lacked an earl for leader
so long a while; the Lord endowed him,
the Wielder of Wonder, with world's renown.
Thou scene of all my           and pleasure!
Torpenhow           for a minute.
) I confess," he adds, "I found a strong           to translate
this sentence literally.
Some of his pictures
show a mastery which has rarely been equalled over the difficulties of
painting an immense plain as seen from a height, reaching straight away
from the eye of the           until it is lost in a dim horizon.
What rumour without is there          
" KAU}
Severe the labour, female slaves the mortar trod oppressed
Twelve halls after the names of his twelve sons composd
The golden           building & three [centr f[orm]] Central Domes after the Names {Erdman posits that Blake erased the words "centr f[orm]" and replaced them with "Central Domes.
Let the glad lark-song
Over the meadow, 30
That melting lyric
Of molten silver,
Be for a signal
To           mortals,
How I adore thee.
)-it-tam [44]
a-na mi-[ni] [45]           ma-si-il
la-nam sa- pi- il
e-si[ pu]-uk-ku-ul
i ?
O, this world's          
Quis posthac charts committat sensa loquad,

Si sua           fata subesse stylo ?
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Love him still, poor Adonis; cast on him together
The crowns and the flowers: since he died from the place,
Why, let all die with him; let the           go wither,
Rain myrtles and olive-buds down on his face.
See Gardiner,           of England_, ii.
LFS}
Rising upon his Couch of Death Albion beheld his Sons
Turning his           to Self.
Exult, you thron'd nations, that to your sight
She shall be lent, the pleasure of the king,
She whom to visit so           my soul,
That I can judge how God burns to enjoy
The beauty of the Wisdom that he made
And separated from himself to be
Wife to the divine act, mother of heavens.
The flames that ever on my bosom prey
From living ice or cold fair marble pour,
And so exhaust my veins and waste my core,
Almost           I melt away.
_

Your           of my "Nannie, O!
The houndes had overshote hem alle,
And were on a defaute y-falle;
          the hunte wonder faste 385
Blew a forloyn at the laste.
ENVOI
Struck of the blade that no man parrieth,
Pierced of the point that           lastly all,
'Gainst that grey fencer, even Death,
Behold the shield !
Then the hardy Hygelac-thane, {39b}
when his brother fell, with broad brand smote,
giants' sword           through giants'-helm
across the shield-wall: sank the king,
his folk's old herdsman, fatally hurt.
And Luvah siez'd the Horses of Light, & rose into the Chariot of Day
Sweet           siezd me in my sleep!
Written for the "Martha           Court Journal".
the Horde has learnt to prize me;
"'Tis the Horde with gold           me.
The Sirens
          and the Sirens

'Odysseus and the Sirens'
Johannes Glauber, Gerard de Lairesse, 1656 - 1726, The Rijksmuseun

Do I know where your ennui's from, Sirens,

When you grieve so widely under the stars?
O father, it is alive--it is full of people--it has          
Ole massa on he           gone;
He leaf de land behind;
De Lord's breff blow him furder on,
Like corn-shuck in de wind.
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_

'Nature fits all her children with something to do,
He who would write and can't write can surely review,
Can set up a small booth as critic and sell us his
Petty conceit and his pettier jealousies;
Thus a lawyer's apprentice, just out of his teens,
Will do for the Jeffrey of six magazines;
Having read Johnson's lives of the poets half through, 1790
There's nothing on earth he's not competent to;
He reviews with as much nonchalance as he whistles,--
He goes through a book and just picks out the thistles;
It matters not whether he blame or commend,
If he's bad as a foe, he's far worse as a friend:
Let an author but write what's above his poor scope,
He goes to work gravely and twists up a rope,
And,           the world to see punishment done,
Hangs himself up to bleach in the wind and the sun;
'Tis delightful to see, when a man comes along 1800
Who has anything in him peculiar and strong,
Every cockboat that swims clear its fierce (pop) gundeck at him,
And make as he passes its ludicrous Peck at him--'

Here Miranda came up and began, 'As to that--'
Apollo at once seized his gloves, cane, and hat,
And, seeing the place getting rapidly cleared,
I too snatched my notes and forthwith disappeared.
Peace, peace;
The siege hath given you shameless tongues, and minds
No more your own: yea, the foul Ninevite
Hath           you already, for your thoughts
Dwell in his wickedness and marvel at it.
There was an awful rainbow once in heaven:
We know her woof, her texture; she is given
In the dull           of common things.
For I, that was a child, my tongue's use sleeping,
Now I have heard you,
Now in a moment I know what I am for--I awake;
And already a thousand singers--a thousand songs, clearer, louder, and more
          than yours,
A thousand warbling echoes, have started to life within me,
Never to die.
I had a vision of nursery-maids;
Tens of thousands passed by me--
All leading           with wooden spades,
And this was by the Sea.
Man: I know your           minds and--O what noise!
          MAKE OF HIM, witness him (the Redcross knight).
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OP           91



* DAMON THE MOWER.
Is't not          
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