Myriad Roses, unregretted, perish in their vernal bloom.
Never again. The shivering rose, that sees
Noon-and the north-west sweeps the empty road
Not yet, not yet, the light

Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods
"O bairn, when I am dead

O bridesmaid, ere the happy knot was tied

O fair midspring, besung so oft and oft

O late and sweet, too sweet, too late

O life, O death, O world, O time
O Lily, with the sun of heaven's

O most fair God, O Love both new and old

O Summer-time, so passing sweet.

O wherefore ever onward, Love! O why
Of Adam's first wife, Lilith, it is told
Oh! love is like the rose

Oh no! you shall not catch me in the snare

Oh roses for the flush of youth

On the tall buttress of a Minster gray

Oh! were I rich and mighty

One so fair-none so fair

Only a bee made prisoner

Only when Summer's sun is high

NO.

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Others abide our question-Thou art free!
Others have pleasantness and praise

Our love is not a fading, earthly flower
Pass, falling rose!

Passing away,

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saith the World, passing away

"Princes !—and you, most valorous

Prune thou thy words, the thoughts control

Push off the boat

Rose kissed me to-day

Round the cape of a sudden came the sea
Seek not the tree of silkiest bark

Shame upon you, Robin

She reached a rosebud from the tree

Slayer of the winter, art thou here again?
Sleep, lady fair!

Slips of a kid-skin deftly sewn

So, the year's done with!

Somewhere or other there must surely be

Somewhere there waiteth in this world of ours

Spring,-art thou come, O Spring!

Stay me no more; the flowers have ceased to blow

Sweet dimness of her loosened hair's downfall

Sweet! in the flow'ry garland of our love
Sweet Love is dead

Sweet mouth! O let me take

Sweet primrose-time ! when thou art here
The air is white with snow-flakes clinging
The angry sunset fades from out the west
The bee to the heather

The curtains were half drawn, the floor was swept
The little gate was reached at last

The mother will not turn, who thinks she hears
The moth's kiss, first!

The pale sun, through the spectral wood

The rose said, "Let but this long rain be past

The sea awoke at midnight from its sleep

The sea is calm to-night

The snow upon the rose-flow'r sits

The wanton bee that suck'd the rose

The waters are rising and flowing

The white rose decks the breast of May

The world is great: the birds all fly from me
The year's at the spring

There never yet was flower fair in vain

There's a Seer's peak on Ararat, they say
They sat beneath the mountain fir

To call My Lady where she stood
To-day, what is there in the air
Too soon so fair, fair lilies

To think of thee! it was thy fond request
'Twas August, and the fierce sun overhead

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Up to her chamber window

Violets, shy violets!

Waiting, waiting. 'Tis so far

Walled up in sense we know no general plan

Warm whispering through the slender olive leaves

We have loiter'd and laugh'd in the flowery croft
Weep not for me

Were I a breath of summer air

Were life to last for ever, love

What do we here who with reverted eyes

What matter what matter—O friend, though the Sea
What spirit moves the quiring nightingales

When Fancy's exhalations rise

When first the rose-light creeps into my room

When first we met we did not guess

When I saw you last, Rose
When I was by Chloe kiss'd

When Letty had scarce pass'd her third glad year
When man alone, or leagued in governments

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When Spring comes laughing.

When the roads are heavy with mire and rut
When the tumult of day is done

Where art thou loveliest, O Nature, tell!

Where did you come from, baby dear ?

Where is another sweet as my sweet

Who can determine the frontier of Pleasure?
Why do I sing? I know not why, my friend .

"Why do I love thee?" Thus, in earnest wise
Why should I constant be?

With all my will, but much against my heart
With pipe and flute the rustic Pan

With what vain speculations do we slake
Wouldst thou not be content to die.

Yes! in the sea of life enisled

PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO.
EDINBURGH AND LONDON,

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III