Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom,. Oh, that last day in Lucknow fort!. Oh, to be in England. Oh Venice! Venice! when thy Marble walls Oh! young Lochinvar is come out of the west Old wine to drink!. On a day, alack the day! On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen-hundred Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary. 1 285 One lesson, Nature, let me learn of thee Once more Unfortunate Others abide our question. Thou art free Our bergles sang truce,-for the night-cloud had Our doctor had called in another, I never had Out of a fired ship, which by no way Piping down the valleys wild Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth Pray but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed Proud Maisie is in the wood Proud word you never spoke, but you will Prune thou thy words, the thoughts control "Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas," she Said Abner, "At last thou art come! Ere I Say not the struggle nought availeth Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frown'd IV Set where the upper streams of Simois flow Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day? Shall I tell you whom I love? 112 She loves him; for her infinite soul is Love. She sat and wept beside his feet; the weight PART PAGE She was a Phantom of delight V 159 Should auld acquaintance be forgot Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part,- IV 182 Sit down, sad soul, and count Slayer of the winter, art thou here again? So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn Soldier, soldier, off to the war Star that bringest home the bee 'Speak! speak! thou fearful guest! Spirit that breathest through my lattice thou. St. Agnes' Eve-Ah, bitter chill it was! Steer, hither steer your winged pines Still to be neat, still to be drest. Strange fits of passion have I known Strong Son of God, immortal Love Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright!. Sweet in her green dell the flower of beauty Sweet twining hedgeflowers wind-stirred in no Swiftly walk over the western wave Take, O take those lips away Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense IV Teach me my God and King. Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the The charge of the gallant three hundred, the The curfew tolls the knell of parting day The day is done, and the darkness III 240 The door of death is made of gold The expense of Spirit is a waste of shame The great guns of England The groves were God's first temples. Ere man The harp that once through Tara's halls The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece! The Jackdaw sat on the Cardinal's chair! The Knight has ridden down from Wensley The Lady Mary Villiers lies. The Laird o' Cockpen he's proud an' he's The midges dance aboon the burn; . The Melancholy days are come, the saddest of III 327 The moon on the one hand, the dawn on the The muffled drum's sad roll has beat VI 28 The naked earth is warm with spring The night is come, but not too soon The skies they were ashen and sober The sky is a drinking-cup The wind it blew, and the ship it flew The world is too much with us; late and soon |