INDEX OF TITLES Ad Rosam, 176. Alter Ego, 237. Angiola, A Flower Song of, Arctic Epitaph, An, 232. Ballad of "Beau Brocade", Ballad of Prose and Rhyme, Ballad to Queen Elizabeth, Ballad of the Beggar, The, 235. "Beau Brocade", The Ballad of, 19. Before Sedan, 107. 235. Boughton, To G. H., 207. Charity Annual, For a, 203. Garden Song, A, 161. A, 9. Gentlewoman of the Old Greenaway, Kate, 223. Idyll of the Carp, The, 92. In the Belfry, 131. K. G. (Kate Greenaway), Ladies of St. James's, The, 132. Madrigal, A (Queen Vic- Nankin Plate, On a, 191. Song of the Sea Wind, The, Sundial, The, 99. Tanneguy du Bois, The Dying Thomson, To Hugh, 228. To an Intrusive Butterfly, 139. British Museum, 143. To Belgium, 231. To George H. Boughton, To Hugh Thomson, 228. To Myrtalé, 216 To One who bids me sing, To Q. H. F., 85. "Two Maids uprose in the Une Marquise, 31. Virtuoso, A, 81. Wanderer, The, 189. INDEX TO FIRST LINES Across the grass I see her pass "Ah me, but it might have been "Arise and walk "-the one voice said Bards of the Future! you that come. Farewell, kind heart! And if there be For Right, not Might, you fought. The foe Here in this leafy place Here sleeps, at last, in narrow bed Here, in this sequestered close Here, where the beech-nuts drop among the grasses. He that was King an hour ago "Horatius Flaccus, B. C. 8" How it sings, sings, sings. How steadfastly she'd worked at it I had a vacant dwelling I plunge my hand among the leaves. 107 161 218 50 85 204 2 176 67 PAGE In Fifty-six, when Gilbert drew I watch you through the garden walks In Angel-Court the sunless air. In Art some hold themselves content It runs (so saith my Chronicler) It stands in the stable-yard, under the eaves It was an elm-tree root of yore. King Philip had vaunted his claims 194 Life, like a page unpenned 239 The ladies of St. James's. Myrtalé, when I am gone. No grave more nobly graced O yellow flowers by Herrick sung Palm-trees and wells they found of yore Rose, in the hedgerow grown Rose kissed me to-day Seventeen hundred and thirty-nine She lived in Georgian era too She then must once have looked, as I So he wrote, the old bard of an "old Magazine" Spring,-art thou come, O Spring Spring stirs and wakes by holt and hill The Rose in the garden slipped her bud These, Denise, are my Suitors. These to his Memory. May the Age arriving Time, in whose kingship is Song 14 70 146 116 |