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 have, thou gallant Trojan I have woven shrouds of air 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 mind it weel, in early date 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 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 the season, when through all the land. It was the time when lilies blow It was the winter wild. It was thy fear, or else some transient wind I wandered lonely as a cloud I watched her face, suspecting germs I wish I were where Helen lies I would that thou might always be I've taught me other tongues John Anderson, my jo, John John Brown in Kansas settled like a steadfast STEDMAN King Ferdinand alone did stand one day upon the hill LOCKHART'S SPANISH BAL- Lady Clara Vere De Vere Lady, there is a hope that all men have CHANNING Life and thought have gone away Life may be given in many ways 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 Little was King Laurin Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day Look not thou on beauty's charming Lord, with what care hast thou begirt us round Merciful Heaven! Merry it is in the good green wood Methought I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more Milton, thou shouldst be living at this hour Mine eyes have seen the glory Mine honesty and I begin to square. Much have I travelled in the realms of gold 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. No more, no more, Oh! never more on me No splendor 'neath the sky's proud dome November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh Now is the time for mirth Now is the winter of our discontent. Now overhead a rainbow bursting through SPENSER 67 SHAKSPEARE 510 ANONYMOUS. 162 J. Q. ADAMS 280 E. H. 327 SHAKSPEARE 511 SCOTT 334 510 167 274 MRS. HOWE 230 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 all the rides since the birth of time Of Nelson and the North 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?. O my luve's like a red, red rose. Once we built our fortress where On the mountain peak. you see O never rudely will I blame his faith One day, nigh weary of the irksome way O Proserpina. Or if the soul of proper kind. Orpheus with his lute made trees O Sacred Providence, who from end to end O than the fairest day thrice fairer night O that we now had here O the days are gone when beauty bright O then what soul was his, when, on the tops O thou goddess O thou who in the heavens dost dwell O thou that swing'st upon the waving ear Our boat to the waves go free Our brethren of New England use Our bugles sang truce; for the night cloud had lowered CAMPBELL 337 16 SCOTT 449 MILTON 199 MOTHERWELL 438 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER 72 JOHN WESLEY 178 BYRON 39 W.ALLINGHAM 77 BURNS 442 WHITTIER 304 Rambling along the marshes -Oh, my sire! Stern daughter of the voice of God Rabia, sick upon her bed Rashly, And praised be rashness for it Remove yon skull from out the scattered heaps. Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky. BYRON Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down LOCKHART Round my own pretty rose. Royal Egypt! Empress Rudolph, professor of the headsman's trade Ruin seize thee, ruthless king Rumble thy belly full! spit fire! spout rain! Run, shepherds, run where Bethlehem blest appears Say to me, whose fortunes shall rise higher Say, what is Honor? Scots, whia hae wi' Wallace bled See how the Orient dew. See living vales by living waters blest See the chariot at hand here of love See yonder souls set far within the shade Send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it. Shall I, wasting in despair? She, of whose soul, if we may say, 'twas gold. Shine kindly forth, September sun Silence augmenteth grief — writing encreaseth rage Silent, O Moyle, be the roar of thy water Since the sun 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, when their feet were planted on the plain St. Mark's hushed abbey heard Star of the flowers and flower of the stars 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 Take along with thee Take, O take those lips away. Teach me, my God and King Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind. Tell me where is fancy bred Tell us, thou clear and heavenly tongue Thanks for the lessons of this spot T. H. BAYLY 171 192 447 35 521 BROOKE) MOORE DONNE BYRON 467 126 186 203 44 181 500 71 94 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 is full of grace and fair regard The Lord descended from above The minstrels played their Christmas tune The old mayor climbed the belfry tower The old man said, "Take thou this shield, my son" There are points from which we can command our life P. BAILEY There came to Cameliard 153 |