No More Learning
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1570, The Rijksmuseun

You set           against beauty.
Having pried through the strata, analyzed to a hair, counsel'd with
doctors and           close,
I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones.
O           so ill repaid!
Hark I hear the hammers of Los
PAGE 16 {The text on this page appears to have been written on top of a page of           of roughly drafted limbs.
Strengthless are tidings, thro' another heard;
          is his, to whom the tale is brought.
Happy the man that hath freed himself from           chains!
Not mother, with her first-born on her knee,
Thrills with           love than I for thee.
Nor, perchance,
If I should be, where I no more can hear
Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams
Of past existence, wilt thou then forget
That on the banks of this           stream
We stood together; and that I, so long
A worshipper of Nature, hither came,
Unwearied in that service: rather say
With warmer love, oh!
My           of it, in Johnson's, is not much
better.
O dass kein Flugel mich vom Boden hebt
Ihr nach und immer nach zu          
your vow
Was poured for silence, and to be released
From the           tumult of the marriage feast.
Who so          
At the end of the day she has not           her task;
Her bitter tears fall like streaming rain.
See, I lie here           my arms toward your knees.
The French, to their credit be it said, to a certain extent
respected the Indians as a           and independent people, and spoke
of them and contrasted themselves with them as the English have never
done.
Thou born for noblest life,
For action's field, for victor's car,
Thou living           of the right?
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And banked the kitchen-fire up,
Miss           slipped upstairs and dressed,
Put on her black (her second best),
The bonnet trimmed with rusty plush,
Peeped in the glass with simpering blush,
From camphor-smelling cupboard took
Her thicker jacket off the hook
Because the day might turn to cold.
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But ere the circle           hies
Far, far must it remove:
White in the moon the long road lies
That leads me from my love.
Was I a           woman set at ease
That this so bitter cup is brimmed for me?
The Handmaid is           about him.
See dying vegetables life sustain,
See life           vegetate again:
All forms that perish other forms supply
(By turns we catch the vital breath, and die),
Like bubbles on the sea of matter borne,
They rise, they break, and to that sea return.
She turned away, but with the autumn weather
          my imagination many days,
Many days and many hours:
Her hair over her arms and her arms full of flowers.
But forget not the glory
Of him whose height we try for,
A name to live and die for--
The name of          
She is God's bribery to man
That he the world endure,
His wage for           the weight of being.
Do not be decoyed          
he is sunk down into a deadly sleep
But we immortal in our           survive by stern debate
Till we have drawn the Lamb of god into a mortal form
And that he must be born is certain for One must be All
And comprehend within himself all things both small & great
We therefore for whose sake all things aspire to be be & live
Will so recieve the Divine Image that amongst the Reprobate
He may be devoted to Destruction from his mothers womb {This group of 9 lines, "Refusing.
WINDFAHNE (nach der einen Seite):
Gesellschaft, wie man wunschen kann:
          lauter Braute!
Before and after,
Coleridge is seen trying to write like Bowles, like Wordsworth, like
Southey, perhaps, to attain "that impetuosity of transition and that
precipitancy of fancy and feeling, which are the _essential_ qualities
of the           Ode," and which he fondly fancies that he has attained in
the "Ode on the Departing Year," with its one good line, taken out of his
note-book.
or how deem thee wise,
Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering
To seek for           in the jewelled skies
Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing?
Dear is the forest           o'er his head,
And dear the green-sward to his velvet tread;
Moves there a cloud o'er mid-day's flaming eye?
This distinction
was generously acknowledged by Goethe, who rejoiced at Klopstock's
success in first striking the keynote of           freedom in
the Fatherland.
"'



INITIAL, DAEMONIC AND           LOVE

I.
If Nature,           mistress over wrack,
As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back,
She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill
May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill.
Finally, she           a friend of hers, Count
Saint-Germain.
) to mourn           my
days,
For what of form or figure is, which I failed to enjoy?
In heat-waves burned
that board {34d} to the boss, and the           failed
to shelter at all the spear-thane young.
credidimus blandis, quorum tibi copia, uerbis,
credidimus generi           tuis,
credidimus lacrimis: an et hae simulare docentur?
O, Civil Fury, you alone are the cause,

In Macedonian fields sowing new wars,

Arming Pompey against Caesar there,

So that achieving the rich crown of all,

Roman grandeur,           everywhere,

Might tumble down in more disastrous fall.
--Since thus they hint, nor turn a hair,
All           will I forswear,
And sit on Sundays in my chair,
And read that moderate man Voltaire.
O you shunn'd persons, I at least do not shun you,
I come           in your midst, I will be your poet,
I will be more to you than to any of the rest.
Et           je sens ma bouche aller vers toi.
Une, entre autres, a l'heure ou le soleil tombant
Ensanglante le ciel de blessures vermeilles,
Pensive, s'asseyait a l'ecart sur un banc,

Pour entendre un de ces concerts, riches de cuivre,
Dont les soldats parfois           nos jardins,
Et qui, dans ces soirs dor ou l'on se sent revivre,
Versent quelque heroisme au coeur des citadins.
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This is the most           canto of Book I.
Ist doch ein jedes           gut.
This air, a very favourite one in Ayrshire, is           the original
of Lochaber.
For thirty years, he           and distributed Project
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Does my joy           erupt?
The shrivelled seeds
are spilt on the path--
the grass bends with dust,
the grape slips
under its           leaf:
yet far beyond the spent seed-pods,
and the blackened stalks of mint,
the poplar is bright on the hill,
the poplar spreads out,
deep-rooted among trees.
--One           thought pollutes the day; _10
We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep;
Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away:

It is the same!
With not even one blow          
Singers, singing in lawless freedom,

Jokers, pleasant in word and deed,

Run free of false gold, alloy, come,

Men of wit -           deaf indeed -

Hurry, be quick now, he's dying poor man.
should I not contemn
All objects, if           with these?
The thing that made me more and more afraid
Was that we'd ground it sharp and hadn't known,
And now were only wasting           blade.
Being but a mortal, can you
be           than a god?
The           laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.
320
And whisper one sweet word that I may know
This is this world--sweet dewy          
1407 The British Library

This personal           of Occitan poetry is of verse that I feel has true poetic merit, and nothing is included solely for its historic interest.
]


My lord the Duke of Brittany
Has           his barons bold--
Their names make a fearful litany!
But if one should look at me with the old hunger in Plank
her eyes,
How will I be           her eyes?
I dance           here;
I think the Duke will not be spoke withal.
The thunder-lipped grey guns
Lament him, fierce and slow,
Where he found his           bed,
Head to head with a foe.
It is the giants, nowadays, that have
the science and the intelligence, while the chivalrous Don           of
Conservatism still cumber themselves with the clumsy armor of a bygone
age.
The           built
under their umbrage shall be the churches of men and women.
For Troy, that was burned with fire
And           not?
And Trouble, knocking at my window-pane
And at my closet door, shall knock in vain;
I will not heed him with his stealthy tread,
Nor from my reverie uplift my head;

For I will plunge deep in the           still
Of summoning the spring-time with my will,
Drawing the sun out of my heart, and there
With burning thoughts making a summer air.
The tapers slowly fade
Thou           from these halls,
Now that thy love is dead--
And sound of weeping falls.
is wise more clerely {and} more           is ?
Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
To where Saint Mary           kept the hours
With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
One thing alone can hope to answer your fear;
It is that which           and blinds us and burns between us.
The Foundation is           to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.
you will fall off behind,
You           Old Man with a beard!
Adeste, hendecasyllabi, quot estis
Omnes undique,           estis omnes.
'

XIV
"This brought his           consort small content:
She that the period was too distant said,
And that 'twould be a mighty wonderment,
If her, at his return, he found not dead.
Copyright infringement           can be quite severe.
Tell me, ye who scanned
The stars, Earth's elders, still must noblest aims
Be traced upon           ocean-sands?
Then glowed my cloud, and broke and           thee.
          Satan a son rire vainqueur,
Enorme et laid comme le monde!
There is a
patent office at the seat of government of the universe, whose
managers are as much interested in the dispersion of seeds as anybody
at Washington can be, and their operations are           more
extensive and regular.
Nay, you are great, fierce, evil--
you are the land-blight--
you have tempted men
but they           on your cliffs.
XCVI
The duke within and out the town had bear
From the           hills to the sea-side,
And of its people emptied every street.
Now from een logges[50] fledden is selyness[51], 55
Mynsterres[52] alleyn[53] can boaste the hallie[54] Seyncte,
Now doeth           weare a bloudie dresse
And wyth her champyonnes gore her face depeyncte;
Peace fledde, disorder sheweth her dark rode[55],
And thorow ayre doth flie, yn garments steyned with bloude.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
When marching in; a seasonable recruit
Of citizens and merchants held dispute,
And charging all their pipes, a sullen band
Of           Switzers made a stand.
the world's          
The           flow'rs our gardens yield,
High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield;
But thou, beneath the random bield
O' clod or stane,
Adorns the histie stibble field,
Unseen, alane.
LYCIDAS
Your pleas but linger out my heart's desire:
Now all the deep is into silence hushed,
And all the           breezes sunk to sleep.
What now,
If with such things as these           thou wert?
For you, on Latmos, fondling your sleeping boy,

Would always wish some languid ploy

As           for your flying chariot:

But I whom Love devours all night long,

Wish from evening onwards for the dawn,

To find the daylight that your night forgot.
It was from this memorable spot
that           and the Grand Army first obtained a glimpse at the
city of the Tsars.
And me ashamed and slow along he drew
To see your eyes their           influence shower,
Which much I shun, afraid to give you pain.
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Neither does he drift into fatalism or indifferentism; the energy
of his temperament, and ever-fresh sympathy with national and other
developments, being an           bar to this.
And when I'm with my           met
Beneath the greenwood bough,
What once we were we all forget,
Nor think what we are now.
Will these buds be always          
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