295
206

.

142
114
244
250

47
267

13
281

233
176
2)
20
173
16

O blithe new-comer! I have heard
O Brignail banks are wild and fair
Of all the girls that are so smart
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw
Of Nelson and the North
O Friend ! I know not which

way

I must look
Of this fair volume which we World do namo
Oft in the stilly night
O if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm
O listen, listen, ladies gay
O lovers' eyes are sharp to see
O Mary, at thy window be.
O me! what eyes hath love put in my head
O Mistress mine, where are you roaming .
O my Luve's like a red, red rose
On a day, alack the day
On a Poet's lips I slept
Once did She hold the gorgeous East in fee
One more Unfortunate
O never say that I was false of heart
One word is too often prosaned
On Linden, when the sun was low
O saw ye bonnie Lesley
O say what is that thing ca!ld Light
O snatch'd away in beauty's bloom
O talk not to me of a name great in story
Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd
Over the mountains
() waly waly up the bank
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's be ng
O World ! O Life! O Time!.

Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day.
Phoebus, arise
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu
Poor Soul, the centre of my sinful earth
Proud Maisie is in the wood

240

45
273

79

Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair
Rarely, rarely, comest thou
Ruin seize thee, ruthless King

268

136

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day
Shall I, wasting in despair.
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
She is not fair to outward view
She walks in beauty, like the night .
She was a phantom of delight
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part
Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile
Souls of Poets dead and gone.
Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king
Star that bringest home the bee
Stern Daughter of the voice of God
Surprised by joy-impatient as the wind.
Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes .
Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower
Sweet stream, that winds through yonder glade
Swiftly walk over the western wave

21

220

Take, O take those lips away.

27
Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense

357
Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind

86
Tell me where is Fancy bred .

36
That time of year thou may'st in ne behold.
That which her slender waist confined.

94
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day.

171
The forward youth that would appear

61
The fountains mingle with the river
The glories of our blood and state

73
The last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King

49
The lovely lass o' Inverness

141
The merchant, to secure his treasure

155
The more we live, more brief appear

364
The poplars are fell’d, farewell to the shade

165
There be none of Beauty's daughters

209
There is a flower, the Lesser Celandine

265
There is a garden in her face .

92
There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away 263
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream

367
The sun is warm, the sky is clear

270
The sun upon the lake is low

326
195
356
46
24
50
44
214
143

The twentieth year is well nigh past
The World is too much with us; late and soon
The World 's a bubble, and the Life of Man
They that have power to hurt, and will do none
This is the month, and this the happy morn.
This Life, which seems so fair
Three years she grew in sun and shower
Thy braes were bonny, Yarrow stream
Thy hue, dear pledge, is pure and bright.
Timely blossom, Infant fair
Tired with all these, for rectful death I cry
Toll for the Brave .
To me, fair Friend, you never can be old.
'T was at the royal feast for Persia won
'T was on a lofty vase's side
Two Voices are there, one is of the Sea

102

134

48
146

II

123
132
249

Under the greenwood tree .

6

-

When maidens such as Hester die
When Music, heavenly maid, was young
When Ruth was left half desolate
When the lamp is shatter'd
When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
When we two parted .
Where art thou, my beloved Son.
Where shall the lover rest
Where the remote Bermudas ride
While that the sun with his beams hot.
Whoe'er she be
Why art thou silent! Is thy love a plant
Why, Damon, with the forward day
Why so pale and wan, fond lover
Why weep ye by the tide, ladie
With little here to do or see

• 278

160
336
232
180

22
226
285
228

I21

30
80

225

197

98
218

310

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THOMAS GRAY'S POEMS,
W. M. THACKERAY'S POEMS,
GOETHE'S FAUST,
HEINE'S BOOK OF SONGS,
LONDON RHYMES, by Frederick Locker.
LONDON LYRICS, by Frederick Locker.
THE GOLDEN TREASURY, by F. I.

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LUCILE, by Owen Meredith.
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