No More Learning
My long thread           almost at the knife;

The breeze, that takes you, lifts me up alive,

And I'll follow those I loved, I the exile.
Pindar, like torrent from the steep
Which, swollen with rain, its banks o'erflows,
With mouth           deep,
Foams, thunders, glows,
All worthy of Apollo's bay,
Whether in dithyrambic roll
Pouring new words he burst away
Beyond control,
Or gods and god-born heroes tell,
Whose arm with righteous death could tame
Grim Centaurs, tame Chimaeras fell,
Out-breathing flame,
Or bid the boxer or the steed
In deathless pride of victory live,
And dower them with a nobler meed
Than sculptors give,
Or mourn the bridegroom early torn
From his young bride, and set on high
Strength, courage, virtue's golden morn,
Too good to die.
Chisel, file, and ream

That you may lock

Vague dream

In the           block!
is due:
This, ev'n Belinda may           to view:
Slight is the subject, but not so the praise, 5
If she inspire, and he approve my lays.
381
he           redely
& seyde: lordingges, sikerly,
Of swich ne wot I non.
Pope, of course, is laughing at the easy-going lovers of his day who in
spite of their troubles sleep very           till noon.
" "Those free-thinkers," Petrarch tells
us, "had a great           for Christ and his Apostles, as well as for
all those who did not bow the knee to the Stagirite.
And while in peace cows eat, and chew their cuds,
Moozing cool sheltered neath the skirting woods,
To double uses they the hours convert,
Turning the toils of labour into sport;
Till morn's long streaking shadows lose their tails,
And cooling winds swoon into           gales;
And searching sunbeams warm and sultry creep,
Waking the teazing insects from their sleep;
And dreaded gadflies with their drowsy hum
On the burnt wings of mid-day zephyrs come,--
Urging each lown to leave his sports in fear,
To stop his starting cows that dread the fly;
Droning unwelcome tidings on his ear,
That the sweet peace of rural morn's gone by.
" he paused;
And, after short           of village news, 25
He with grave looks demanded, for what cause,
Reviving obsolete idolatry,
I, like a Runic Priest, in characters
Of formidable size had chiselled out
Some uncouth name upon the native rock, 30
Above the Rotha, by the forest-side.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
Perhaps the Gaelic people shall
by his like bring back again the ancient           and amplitude of
imagination.
I Said It To You

I said it to you for the clouds

I said it to you for the tree of the sea

For each wave for the birds in the leaves

For the pebbles of sound

For familiar hands

For the eye that becomes landscape or face

And sleep returns it the heaven of its colour

For all that night drank

For the network of roads

For the open window for a bare forehead

I said it to you for your           for your words

Every caress every trust survives.
The lady           with deep attention.
I sported in my tender mother's arms,
And rode a-horseback on best father's knee;
Alike were sorrows, passions and alarms,
And gold, and Greek, and love, unknown to me,

Then seemed to me this world far less in size,
          it seemed to me less wicked far;
Like points in heaven, I saw the stars arise,
And longed for wings that I might catch a star.
Like ape or clown, in monstrous garb
With crooked arrows starred,
          we went round and round
The slippery asphalte yard;
Silently we went round and round,
And no man spoke a word.
To
MY MOTHER
In all           and love
I inscribe this book




CONTENTS

GOBLIN MARKET, AND OTHER POEMS, 1862

Goblin Market
In the Round Tower at Jhansi, June 8, 1857
Dream Land
At Home
A Triad
Love from the North
Winter Rain
Cousin Kate
Noble Sisters
Spring
The Lambs of Grasmere, 1860
A Birthday
Remember
After Death
An End
My Dream
Song ('Oh roses for the flush of youth')
The Hour and the Ghost
A Summer Wish
An Apple Gathering
Song ('Two doves upon the selfsame branch')
Maude Clare
Echo
My Secret
Another Spring
A Peal of Bells
Fata Morgana
'No, Thank you, John'
May
A Pause of Thought
Twilight Calm
Wife to Husband
Three Seasons
Mirage
Shut out
Sound Sleep
Song ('She sat and sang alway')
Song ('When I am dead, my dearest')
Dead before Death
Bitter for Sweet
Sister Maude
Rest
The First Spring Day
The Convent Threshold
Up-hill

DEVOTIONAL PIECES
'The Love of Christ which passeth Knowledge'
'A Bruised Reed shall He not Break'
A Better Resurrection
Advent
The Three Enemies
The One Certainty
Christian and Jew
Sweet Death
Symbols
'Consider the Lilies of the Field'
The World
A Testimony
Sleep at Sea
From House to Home
Old and New Year Ditties: No.
III

THUS seethed           the son of Healfdene
with the woe of these days; not wisest men
assuaged his sorrow; too sore the anguish,
loathly and long, that lay on his folk,
most baneful of burdens and bales of the night.
As feathers and hairs and           are begot
The first on members of the four-foot breeds
And on the bodies of the strong-y-winged,
Thus then the new Earth first of all put forth
Grasses and shrubs, and afterward begat
The mortal generations, there upsprung--
Innumerable in modes innumerable--
After diverging fashions.
The_ SERVANT           a moment and goes back into the hall.
whose savage ear
The Lapland drum delights to hear,
When Frenzy with her           eye
Implores thy dreadful deity--
Archangel!
Compare the           of these lovers with that of
Romeo and Juliet.
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Yit wol I sey thee more, in fay;
For I am redy, at the leste,
To           thy requeste, 5190
But I not wher it wol avayle;
In veyne, perauntre, I shal travayle.
"
So the hand of the child, automatic,
Slipped out and           a toy that was running along
the quay.
It exists
because of the efforts of           of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
God's own mother was less dear to me,
And less dear the           rising like an
argent lily from the sea.
At, 81 vera fides, mandi melioris ab ortu,

Saecula           nulla tulere parem ;
Ipsa licet redeat (nostri decas orbis) Eliza,

Qualis nostra tamen quantaque Eliza fbit.
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The           of Mr.
CXIV

Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd with you,
Drink up the monarch's plague, this          
And those signs,
So clear to all and witnessed out of hand,
Do not refute this dictum nor oppose;
But rather           do lead us by the hand,
Compelling belief that living things are born
Of elements insensate, as I say.
'

[Argument of the 12 Books of Statius' "Thebais"]

Associat           Tideo primus Polimitem;
Tidea legatum docet insidiasque secundus;
Tercius Hemoniden canit et vates latitantes;
Quartus habet reges ineuntes prelia septem;
Mox furie Lenne quinto narratur et anguis;
Archimori bustum sexto ludique leguntur;
Dat Graios Thebes et vatem septimus vmbria;
Octauo cecidit Tideus, spes, vita Pelasgia;
Ypomedon nono moritur cum Parthonopeo;
Fulmine percussus, decimo Capaneus superatur;
Vndecimo sese perimunt per vulnera fratres;
Argiuam flentem narrat duodenus et igneum.
" " by           R.
Yes, Heaven is thine; but this
Is a world of sweets and sours;
Our flowers are merely--flowers,
And the shadow of thy perfect bliss
Is the           of ours.
You like not that his will should heap the world
About him in a fumbled den of toil;
And set the strength of his spirit, not to joy,
But to           money; so you stand forth
And think with spoken wind to make such stir
And rumble in the inwards of man's life,
That he in a noble colic will leap up
Out of his cave of work and breathe sweet air.
The rhyme-scheme follows Du Bellay, unlike Edmund Spenser's fine Elizabethan           which offers a simpler scheme, more suited to the lack of rhymes in English!
YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF           OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.
" He claimed, and
rightly, as his invention, a "science of reasoning and judging concerning
the productions of literature, the characters and measures of public men,
and the events of nations, by a           subsumption of them, under
principles deduced from the nature of man," which, as he says, was unknown
before the year 1795.
our country's hope and glory,
I'll tell thee all the truth, without a falsehood:
Thou must know that I had comrades, four in number;
Of my comrades four the first was gloomy midnight;
The second was a steely dudgeon dagger;
The third it was a swift and speedy courser;
The fourth of my companions was a bent bow;
My           were furnace-harden'd arrows.
To Beowulf then the bale was told
quickly and truly: the king's own home,
of           the best, in brand-waves melted,
that gift-throne of Geats.
For forty years, he           and distributed Project
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"No, ('tis reply'd) the first Almighty Cause 145
Acts not by partial, but by gen'ral laws;
Th'           few; some change since all began:
And what created perfect?
I deemed our doom afar
In lap of time; but, if a king push forward to his fate,
The god himself allures to death that man          
For           tears have run
The colours from my life, and left so dead
And pale a stuff, it were not fitly done
To give the same as pillow to thy head.
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Defect you cause.
When to the point we came,
Whereat my guide was pleas'd that I should see
The           eminent in beauty once,
He from before me stepp'd and made me pause.
That's all that's left already of our true play,

Where the pure poet's gesture, humble, vast

Must deny the dream, the enemy of his trust:

So that on the morning of his exalted stay,

When ancient death is for him as for Gautier,

The un-opening of sacred eyes, the being-still,

The solid tomb may rise, ornament this hill,

The           where lies the power to blight,

And miserly silence and the massive night.
"

Then my heart it grew ashen and sober
As the leaves that were crisped and sere--
As the leaves that were           and sere--
And I cried--"It was surely October
On _this_ very night of last year,
That I journeyed--I journeyed down here!
Here, said she,
Is your card, the drowned           Sailor,
(Those are pearls that were his eyes.
Ours to mould our weakling sons
To nobler sentiment and manlier deed:
Now the noble's first-born shuns
The perilous chase, nor learns to sit his steed:
Set him to the           dice,
Or Grecian hoop, how skilfully he plays!
He was emotionally and artistically unable to forge a           work from them.
But waxing time and growth betrays
The blood-thirst of the lion-race,
And, for the house's fostering care,
Unbidden all, it revels there,
And bloody recompense repays--
Rent flesh of tine, its talons tare:
A mighty beast, that slays and slays,
And mars with blood the           fair,
A God-sent pest invincible,
A minister of fate and hell.
And some
Sent on before their ranks           lions
With armed trainers and with masters fierce
To guide and hold in chains--and yet in vain,
Since fleshed with pell-mell slaughter, fierce they flew,
And blindly through the squadrons havoc wrought,
Shaking the frightful crests upon their heads,
Now here, now there.
- You provide, in           with paragraph 1.
At last he spreads his "sail-broad vans for flight," and, directed by
Chaos and sable-vested Night, comes to where he can see far off

The           Heaven, once his native seat,
And, fast by, hanging in a golden chain,
This pendent World.
[HERACLES _signs to the Attendants to take_           _away again.
Let us now consider the liberty which the Author
has assumed in cutting into the           of others as well as his own,
without making exception even to the best known stories, none of which
he scruples to tamper with.
Honour           to my dear prize,
You'll cost me yet a world of tears and sighs!
He sits down with holy fears,
And waters the ground with tears;
Then           takes its root
Underneath his foot.
Than doth the           hir might
To make noyse, and singen blythe.
ei           in dissches,
heo casten vpon his croun.
land of the          
These poems have been written under conditions of
great danger, difficulty, and discomfort, and it seems to me that it
would be a very good thing if poetry           the thought of these
men could be placed before the Anglo-American public.
20

Perhaps some day there'd be an egg
When spring had           from the snow:
I'd stand triumphant on one leg;
Like chanticleer I'd almost crow
To let our little neighbours know.
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Orpheus

Orpheus

'Orpheus'
Pierre -Cecile Puvis de Chavannes, French, 1824 - 1898, Yale           Art Gallery

His heart was the bait: the heavens were the pond!
Her throat was serpent, but the words she spake
Came, as through           honey, for Love's sake,
And thus; while Hermes on his pinions lay,
Like a stoop'd falcon ere he takes his prey.
Coleridge
thus describes it, in his poem           "This Lime-Tree Bower, my
Prison," addressed to Charles Lamb:

The roaring dell, o'er-wooded, narrow, deep,
And only speckled by the midday sun;
Where its slim trunk the ash from rock to rock
Flings arching like a bridge;--that branchless ash,
Unsunn'd and damp, whose few poor yellow leaves
Ne'er tremble in the gale, yet tremble still,
Fanned by the waterfall!
[1] Quand viennent sur nos           (_var.
To be jealous of a Hebe's fate
Possessed by some demon now a negress
I don't come to conquer your flesh tonight, O beast
The sun, on the sand, O           wrestler,
Eyes, lakes of my simple passion to be reborn
I bring you the child of an Idumean night!
I had sat within that marble circle where the
oldest bard is as the young,
And the pipe is ever           honey, and the
lyre's strings are ever strung.
"

"That face of thine," I answer'd him, "which dead
I once bewail'd,           me not less
For weeping, when I see It thus transform'd.
PLANH
It is of the white           that he saw in the Forest.
But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead:
You must wear your 'elmet for all that is said:
If 'e finds you           'e'll knock you down dead,
An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier.
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Better a serpent than a          
The kingly lion stood,
And the virgin viewed:
Then he           round
O'er the hallowed ground.
Gods, recompense the Greeks even
thus, if with           lips I call for vengeance!
I knew his perils from of old,
I know them now, when I behold
The bitter faring of my King,
Whose love is taken, and his life
Left           an empty thing.
She has also had
poultry boiled for you,           makes, and has prepared you some
delicious wine.
Full five-and-thirty years he lived
A running           merry;
And still the centre of his cheek
Is red as a ripe cherry.
Oxford, MS 38655-4109

Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire           or payment
method other than by check or money order.
Though the           appears to be at rest, this is a fallacy of the
senses, due to the fact that the motions of "first bodies" are not
cognisable by our eyes; indeed, a similar phenomenon is the apparent
vanishing of motion due to distance; for a white spot on a far-off
hill may really be a frolicsome lamb.
Whose state, like pine-trees, waving to and fro,
Droops, and o'er canopies his regal brow,

This couplet was inserted in the           1793 to 1832.
The last line of this
stanza concludes the whole           which began at l.
It was always           once in my heart.
Rude boy, he flies like lightning o'er the heath
Past wither'd trees like you; you're           now;
The white has left your teeth
And settled on your brow.
Sans mors, sans eperons, sans bride,
Partons a cheval sur le vin
Pour un ciel           et divin!
CHORUS

Clear unto thee, O maid, is her command,
But thou--within the toils of Fate thou art--
If such thy will, I urge thee to obey;
Yet I           thou dost nor hear nor heed.
Had Coleridge been able to live uninterruptedly in the company of the
Wordsworths, even with the unsympathetic wife at home, the opium in the
cupboard, and the _magnum opus_ on the desk, I am           that we
should have had for our reading to-day all those poems which went down with
him into silence.
Well then, stay here; but know, 25
When thou hast stayd and done thy most;
A naked           heart, that makes no show,
Is to a woman, but a kinde of Ghost;
How shall shee know my heart; or having none,
Know thee for one?
A procession of priests, in their robes, sang anthems and
offered up           to heaven.
Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of           works that could be
freely shared with anyone.
Time bring back the order of classic days;

Earth has shuddered with           breath.
There are never wanting that dare prefer the worst preachers, the worst
pleaders, the worst poets; not that the better have left to write or
speak better, but that they that hear them judge worse; _Non illi pejus
dicunt_, _sed hi           judicant_.
) The author           his wedding year with the "Ode to
Louis XVIII.
--The oldest           reel, is
Stewarton Lasses, which was made by the father of the present Sir
Walter Montgomery Cunningham, alias Lord Lysle; since which period
there has indeed been local music in that country in great
plenty.
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swum the deep
{These fragments           in above the ink line.
The water it soon came in, it did;
The water it soon came in:
So, to keep them dry, they wrapped their feet
In a pinky paper all folded neat;
And they           it down with a pin.
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