If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep. If men be worlds, there is in every one If this great world of joy and pain If thou be one whose heart the holy forms I hear thy solemn anthem fall I know a little garden close I made a footing in the wall I made a posie while the day ran by I'm sitting alone by the fire I must go furnish up Inland, within a hollow vale I stood In sweet dreams softer than unbroken rest In the frosty season, when the sun In the golden reign of Charlemagne the king. In the hour of my distress In the summer even In this world, the isle of dreams In vain the common theme my tongue would shun In what torn ship soever I embark In Xanadu did Kubla Khan In yonder grave a Druid lies I see a dusk and awful figure rise I see before me the gladiator lie I see men's judgments are. I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus. I sift the snow on the mountains below I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris and he. Is there for honest poverty Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child? It don't seem hardly right, John It follows now you are to prove. It happed that I came on a day I think not on my father It is not to be thought of that the flood It little profits that an idle king It's narrow, narrow make your bed It's no in titles or in rank It was fifty years ago It was thy fear, or else some transient wind BROWNING Just now I've ta'en a fit of rhyme BURNS N. P. WILLIS 57 224 95 It was the season, when through all the land. It was the time when lilies blow It was the winter wild. I wandered lonely as a cloud I watched her face, suspecting germs I wish I were where Helen lies I've taught me other tongues Life and thought have gone away Life, I know not what thou art Life may be given in many ways Light-winged smoke! Icarian bird Like a poet hidden Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore. Like to the clear in highest sphere. Lithe and listen, gentlemen. Little I ask, my wants are few Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day Lo! on his far resounding path Look not thou on beauty's charming Lord, with what care hast thou begirt us round Lo, when the Lord made North and South Lo, where she comes along with portly pace Macbeth is ripe for shaking Man, thee behooveth oft to have this in mind Mine honesty and I begin to square SHAKSPEARE 510 ANONYMOUS. 162 J. Q. ADAMS 280 E. H. 327 SHAKSPEARE 511 SCOTT 334 Sleep no more". SHAKSPEARE 510 167 WORDSWORTH 274 MRS. HOWE 230 Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors Motions and means, on land and sea at war Much have I travelled in the realms of gold My gentle Puck, come hither My God, I heard this day My liege, I did deny no prisoners. My lord, you told me you would tell the rest My mistress's eyes are nothing like the sun My mother, when I learned that thou wast dead Naked on parents' knees, a new-born child. Needy knife-grinder, whither are you going?. No more, no more, Oh! never more on me No splendor 'neath the sky's proud dome November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh KEATS. SHAKSPEARE HERBERT. SHAKSPEARE SHAKSPEARE BYRD SHAKSPEARE COWPER CANNING. YOUNG. Now ponder well, you parents dear O Brignall Banks are wild and fair O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon O divine star of heaven O draw me, Father, after thee O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea Of a' the airts the wind can blaw Of all the rides since the birth of time O for my sake do you with fortune chide Oft in the stilly night Of truth, of grandeur, beauty, love, and hope O heavens, if you do love old men O heard ye yon pibroch sound sad in the gale? Oh, have ye na heard o' the fause Sakelde Oh, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem Oh, weel may the boatie row OI have passed a miserable night O joy hast thou a face. O keeper of the sacred key O listen, listen, ladies gay Old wine to drink O Lord, in me there lieth nought O messenger, art thou the king, or I? Once we built our fortress where you see O never rudely will I blame his faith' One day, nigh weary of the irksome way Our bugles sang truce; for the night cloud had lowered CAMPBELL Our revels now are ended 337 16 449 MILTON 199 MOTHERWELL 438 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER 72 178 39 77 442 304 220 271 32 T. MOORE 438 O young Lochinvar is come out of the West Silence augmenteth grief — writing encreaseth rage. Silent, O Moyle, be the roar of thy water Since I am coming to that holy room Sing, and let your song be new Sing, O Goddess, the wrath, the ontamable dander of Keitt Sitting in my window Sleep is like death, and after sleep So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn So, when their feet were planted on the plain St. Mark's hushed abbey heard Star of the flowers and flower of the stars Still to be neat, still to be drest Svend Vonved binds his sword to his side. Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright Sweet echo, sweetest nymph that liv'st unseen Sweet scented flower, who art wont to bloom BEN JONSON SPENSER SHAKSPEARE KEATS WORDSWORTH BEN JONSON E. S. H. GREVILLE (LORD BROOKE) 467 MOORE 126 sire! 441 84 227 476 518 149 87 339 The birds against the April wind The bush that has most briars and bitter fruit The curfew tolls the knell of parting day The daughter of a king, how should I know?. The destiny, minister general The earth goes on, the earth glittering in gold. The feathered songster Chanticleer The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices The gods be your terror The harp that once through Tara's halls The king called his best archers The king is full of grace and fair regard The Lord descended from above The minstrels played their Christmas tune There is an island on a river lying There are points from which we can command our life P. BAILEY The recluse hermit ofttimes more doth know. There in the fane a beauteous creature stands There is a history in all men's lives There is a mystery in the soul of state There is a pleasure in the pathless woods There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale There where death's brief pang was quickest. A. H. CLOUGH. 153 TENNYSON 296 DONNE 517 PROF. WILSON (Trans.) 58 SHAKSPEARE 517 SHAKSPEARE 517 J. W. MORRIS 491 28 20 517 31 269 Ther is right at the West side of Itaille The sea rolls vaguely, and the stars are dumb The sky is changed; and such a change The snows arise; and foul and fierce The spacious firmament on high The spirits I have raised abandon me The splendor falls on castle walls. The wanton troopers riding by The weather leech of the topsail shivers . |