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They say that Pity in Love's service dwells,

The lover of child Marjory, 662.

The roar of Niagara dies away, 255.
The loves that doubted, the loves that dis The rose is weeping for her love, 161.
sembled, 555.

The rose thou gav'st at parting, 77.
The men of learning say she must, 392.

The rosy musk-mallow blooms where the south
The merry-go-round, the merry-go-round, the

wind blows, 609.
merry-go-round at Fowey, 261.

The ruddy sunset lies, 670.
The monument outlasting bronze, 239.

The sea is calm to-night, 226.
The moon-white waters wash and leap, 547. The sea! the sea ! the open sea ! 19.
The moorland waste lay hushed in the dusk of These dreary hours of hopeless gloom, 158.
the second day, 572.

These little Songs, 319.
The Mother of the Muses, we are taught, 16. The skies have sunk, and hid the upper snow,
The mother will not turn, who thinks she hears,

217.
396.

The Sonnet is a fruit which long hath slept, 275.
The mountain peaks put on their hoods, 640. The Sonnet is a world, where feelings caught,
The mountain sheep are sweeter, 47.

275.
The music had the heat of blood, 601.

The soul of man is larger than the sky, 57.
The Musmee has brown velvet eyes, 251.

The spell of Age is over all, 668.
The nest is built, the song hath ceas'd, 150. The splendor falls on castle walls, 199.
The night has a thousand eyes, 533.

The splendor of the kindling day, 378.
The Northern Lights are flashing, 633.

The Spring will come again, dear friends, 162.
Then saw they how there hove a dusky barge, The stream was smooth as glass, we said, 331.
208.

The summer sun is falling soft on Carbery's
Theocritus! Theocritus ! ah, thou hadst plea hundred isles, 97.
sant dreams, 49.

The sunset in the rosy west, 669.
The odor of a rose : light of a star, 276.

The sun shines on the chamber wall, 322.
The old mayor climb'd the belfry tower, 324. The sun strikes, through the windows, up the
The old men sat with hats pull'd down, 321.

floor, 135.
The orb I like is not the one, 77.

The swallow, bonny birdie, comes sharp twit-
The play is done — the curtain drops, 306,

tering o'er the sea, 83.
The Poem of the Universe, 153.

The swarthy bee is a buccaneer, 664.
The poet stood in the sombre town, 511.

The tale was this, 26.
The point is turned ; the twilight shadow fills, The thing is but a statue after all, 457.
659.

The time shall come when wrong shall end, 127.
The poplars and the ancient elms, 514.

The tomb of God before us, 308.
The pouring music, soft and strong, 292.

The tongue of England, that which myriads, 12.
The primrwose in the sheäde do blow, 107. The training-ship, Eurydice, 391.
There be the greyhounds ! lo'k! an' there's The unfathomable sea, and time, and tears, 524.
the heäre ! 107.

The vale of Tempe had in vain been fair, 57.
There came a soul to the gate of Heaven, 237. The victor stood beside the spoil, and by the
The red tiled towers of the old Château, 667.

grinning dead, 335.
There falls with every wedding chime, 12. The villeins clustered round the bowl, 641.
There is a book, who runs may read, 171. The voice that breath'd o'er Eden, 172.
There is a flower I wish to wear, 16.

The wattles were sweet with September's rain,
There is a green hill far away, 182.

630,
There is an Isle beyond our ken, 547.

The white blossom 's off the bog and the leaves
There is a safe and secret place, 174.

are off the trees, 506.
There is a singing in the summer air, 283.

The wind flapp'd loose, the wind was still

, 398.
There is a soul above the soul of each, 400. The wind of death that softly blows, 675.
There is a stream, I name not its name, 215. The wisest of the wise, 15.
There is delight in singing, though none hear,

The world, not hush'd lay as in trance, 337.
13,
There is no land like England, 211.

They are waiting on the shore, 260.

They call her fair. I do not know, 149.
There is no laughter in the natural world, 491. The year 's at the spring, 348.
There is no mood, no heart-throb fugitive, 275.

They found it in her hollow marble bed, 563.
There is sweet music here that softer falls, 194.

They hasten, still they hasten, 655.
There lies a little city leagues away, 651.
There never were such radiant noons, 564.

They look'd on each other and spake not, 410.
There's a joy without canker or cark, 496.

They mock’d the Sovereign of Ghaznin: one

saith, 250.
There the moon leans out and blesses, 532.
There they are, my fifty men and women, 359.

They rous'd him with muffins — they rous'd

him with ice, 478.
There was a gather'd stillness in the room,

146.
There was a lady liv'd at Leith, 54.

371.
There was a time, so ancient records tell, 25.
There were four of us about that bed, 403,

They say that thou wert lovely on thy bier,

56.
There were ninety and nine that safely lay,

They shot young Windebank just here, 593.
182.
There were three young maids of Lee, 509.

They told me, Heracleitus, they told me you

were dead, 232.

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They told me in their shadowy phrase, 41,
They went to sea in a sieve, they did, 475.
They were islanders, our fathers were, 656.
Thick rise the spear-shafts o'er the land, 413.
This case befell at four of the clock, 474.
This I got on the day that Goring, 320.
This infant world has taken long to make! 164.
This is a spray the bird clung to, 364.
This is her picture as she was, 394.
This is the convent where they tend the sick,

560.
This is the glamour of the world antique, 434.
This is the room to which she came that day,

446.
This is the way we dress the Doll, 477.
This new Diana makes weak men her prey,

581.
This peach is pink with such a pink, 584.
This region is as lavish of its flowers, 611.
This relative of mine, 465.
This the house of Circe, queen of charms, 415.
Thou art not, and thou never canst be mine, 70.
Thou art the flower of grief to me, 247.
Thou art the joy of age, 163.
Thou didst delight my eyes, 438.
Though our great love a little wrong his fame,

539.
Though singing but the shy and sweet, 585.
Thou hast filled me a golden cup, 163,
Thou hast lost thy love, poor fool, 415.
Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor, 131.
Thou only bird that singest as thou flyest, 400.
Thou that hast a daughter, 318.
Thou that once, on mother's knee, 240.
Thou tiny solace of these prison days, 504.
Thou too hast travell’d, little fluttering thing,

62.
Thou vague dumb crawler with the groping

head, 504.
Thou wert fair, Lady Mary, 67.
Thou whom these eyes saw never, say friends

true, 364.
Thou wilt forget me.” Love has no such

word." 149.
Three fishers went sailing out into the West,

309,
Three of us afloat in the meadow by the swing,

523,
Three twangs of the horn, and they're all out

of cover, 333.
Through great Earl Norman's acres wide, 87.
Through laughing leaves the sunlight comes,

533,
Through storm and fire and gloom, I see it

stand, 103.
Through the seeding grass, 548.
Through thick Arcadian woods a hunter went,

405.
Thus said the Lord in the vault above the

cherubim, 600.
Thus then, one beautifal day, in the sweet, cool

air of October, 245.
Thy glory alone, O God, be the end of all that

I say, 658.
Thy greatest knew thee, Mother Earth; un-

sour'd, 374.
Thy name of old was great, 553.

Thy voice is heard thro' rolling drums, 200.
Thy way, not mine, O Lord, 176.
Time has a magic wand, 466.
Tintadgel bells ring o'er the tide, 41.
'Tis a stern and startling thing to think, 117.
'Tis a world of silences. I gave a cry, 441.
T is bedtime; say your hymn, and bid “Good-

night," 256.
'Tis Christmas, and the North wind blows;

't was two years yesterday, 551,
'Tis evening now ! 176.
'Tis sair to dream o' them we like, 80.
'T is They, of a veritie, 573.
To-day, what is there in the air, 516.
To murder one so young! 144.
To my true king I offer'd free from stain, 29.
Too avid of earth's bliss, he was of those, 565.
Too wearily had we and song, 569.
To sea, to sea! The calm is o'er; 38.
To soothe a mad king's fevered brain, 526.
To spend the long warm days, 592.
To thee, O father of the stately peaks, 624.
To the forgotten dead, 592.
To the Wake of O'Hara, 282.
To turn my volumes o'er nor find, 14.
Touch not that maid, 552.
Touch us gently, Time ! 22.
To write as your sweet mother does, 14.
Tripping down the field-path, 76.
Trust thou thy Love: if she be proud, is she

not sweet? 157.
Twa race doon by the Gatehope-Slack, 579.
'Twas a fierce night when old Mawgan died,

40.
'T was brillig, and the slithy toves, 478.
’T was but a poor little room: a farm-servant's

loft in a garret, 244.
'Twas eve, and Time, his vigorous course pur-

suing, 33.
’T was evening, though not sunset, and the tide,

8.
’T was in mid autumn, and the woods were

still, 493.
'Twas in the prime of summer time, 113.
'Twas just before the hay was mown, 77.
'T was the body of Judas Iscariot, 279.
’T was the day beside the Pyramids, 3:22.
Twelve years ago, when I could face, 627.
Twist me a crown of wind-flowers, 379.
Twist thou and twine! in light and gloom, 40.
Twitched strings, the clang of metal, beaten

drums, 601.
Two gaz'd into a pool, he gaz'd and she, 379.
Two souls diverse out of our human sight, 428.
Two stars once on their lonely way, 593.
Two voices are there: one is of the deep, 572.
Two winged genii in the air, 149.
Two worlds hast thou to dwell in, Sweet, 567.
Tyre of the West, and glorying in the name,

59.

Under her gentle seeing, 283,
Under the wide and starry sky, 526.
Up from Earth's centre through the Seventh

Gate, 311,
Up into the cherry tree, 523,
Up, my dogs, merrily, 643,

gray, 396.

us, 8.

Upon a day in Ramadan, 248.
Upon St. Michael's Isle, 519.
Up the airy mountain, 317.
Up the dale and down the bourne, 17.
Vainly for us the sunbeams shine, 81.
Vanity, saith the preacher, vanity, 352.
Vasari tells that Luca Signorelli, 272.
Venice, thou Siren of sea-cities, wrought, 274.
Wailing, wailing, wailing, the wind over land

and sea, 209.
Wait but a little while, 584.
Wake! For the Sun who scatter'd into flight,

340.
Wales England wed; so I was bred, 581.
Was sorrow ever like unto our sorrow ? 104.
Watchman, tell us of the night, 173.
Water, for anguish of the solstice : - nay, 397.
We are as mendicants who wait, 665.
We are born ; we langh; we weep; 20.
We are in love's land to-day, 420,
We are what suns and winds and waters make
We crown'd the hard-won heights at length, 63.
We do lie beneath the grass, 39.
Weep

not ! tears must vainly fall, 149.
Wee Willie Winkie rins through the town, 86.
We have been friends together, 93.
We have seen thee, O Love, thou art fair, 422.
Weird wife of Bein-y-Vreich ! horo! horo! 219.
We lack, yet cannot fix upon the lack, 379.
Welcome, old friend! These many years, 10.
We'll a' go pu' the heather, 150.
We'll not weep for summer over, 446.
We meet 'neath the sounding rafter, 101.
We must pass like smoke or live within the

spirit's fire, 606.
Were I but his own wife, to guard and to guide

him, 106.
Were you ever in sweet Tipperary, where the

fields are so sunny and green, 105.
Werther had a love for Charlotte, 305.
We saw the swallows gathering in the sky, 371.
We shall lodge at the sign of the Grave, you

say, 611.
We stand upon the moorish mountain side, 65.
We stood so steady, 327.
West wind, blow from your prairie nest, 673.
We've fought with many men acrost the seas,

595.
We watch'd her breathing thro' the night, 116.
We were playing on the green together, 544.
" What are the bugles blowin' for," 595.
What are the Vision and the Cry, 648.
What cometh here from west to east a-wend-

ing ? 413.
What curled 'and scented sun-girls, almond-

eyed, 512.
What days await this woman, whose strange

feet, 660.
Whate'er of woe the Dark may hide in womb,

270.
What holds her fixed far eyes por lets them

range, 565.
What makes a hero ? - not success, not fame,

27.

What might be done if men were wise, 88.
What of her glass without her? The blank
What power is this? what witchery wins my

fee, 271.
What reck we of the creeds of men, 646.
What sawest thou, Orion, thou hunter of the

star-lands, 576.
What saw you in your flight to-day, 674.
What shall my gift be to the dead one lying,

334.
What should a man desire to leave ? 239.
What though thy Muse the singer's art essay,

332.
What voice did on my spirit fall, 216.
What was he doing, the great god Pan, 134.
What was 't awaken'd first the untried ear, 56.
Wheer 'asta beän saw long and meä liggin' 'ere

aloän? 204.
When a' ither bairnies are hush'd to their

hame, 82.
When at close of winter's night, 472.
When do I see thee most, beloved one ? 395.
Whene'er across this sinful flesh of mine, 58.
Whene'er there comes a little child, 262.
When first the unflowering Fern-forest, 557.
When from my lips the last faint sigh is blown,

68.
When Helen first saw wrinkles in her face, 14.
When He returns, and finds the world so drear,

284.
When I am dead and I am quite forgot, 557.
When I am dead, my spirit, 564.
When I was dead, my spirit turn'd, 376.
When I was sick and lay a-bed, 523.
When Letty had scarce pass'd her third glad

year, 193.
When, lov'd by poet and painter, 316.
When mirth is full and free, 59.
When my Clorinda walks in white, 591.
When my feet have wander'd, 177.
When on my country walks I go, 591.
When on the breath of autumn breeze, 74.
When our heads are bow'd with woe, 170.
When our two souls stand up erect and strong,

132.
When russet beech-leaves drift in air, 299.
When stars are in the quiet skies, 43.
When the dumb Hour, cloth’d in black, 212.
When the flush of a new-born sun fell first, 598.
When the hounds of spring are on winter's

traces, 421.
When the last bitterness was past, she bore, 564.
When the soul sought refuge in the place of

rest, 605.
When, think you, comes the Wind, 443.
When we are parted let me lie, 329.
When we were girl and boy together, 38.
When you and I have played the little hour,

673.
When you are dead some day, my dear, 568.
Where are the swallows fled, 312.
Where art thou gone, light-ankled Youth ? 9.
Where Ausonian summers glowing, 56.
Where did you come from, baby dear? 164.
Where, girt with orchard and with olive-yard,

554.

Where lies the land to which the ship would go ? Within the isle, far from the walks of men,
218.

32.
Where shall we learn to die? 180.

Within the unchanging twilight, 146.
Where the thistle lifts a purple crown, 570.

Within this charmed cool retreat, 667.
Where wert thou, Soul, ere yet my body born,

With little white leaves in the grasses, 564.
297.

With me along the strip of herbage strown,
Whethen is it yourself, Mister Hagan, 587,

340.
Which is more sweet, the slow mysterious With pipe and flute the rustic Pan, 485.
stream, 504.

With purple glow at even, 654,
Which of the Angels sang so well in Heaven, With rosy hand a little girl press'd down, 14.
370.

With the Orient in her eyes, 666.
Whistling strangely, whistling sadly, whistling Word was brought to the Danish king, 94,
sweet and clear, 608.

Would God my heart were greater; but God
White little hands, 265.

wot, 422.
Whither is gone the wisdom and the power, 57. Would that the structure brave, the manifold
Whither, o splendid ship, thy white sails

music I build, 362.
crowding, 438.
Who calls me bold because I won my love, 277. Yea, love, I know, and I would have it thus,
Who dreamed that beauty passes like a dream,

593.
604.

Yea, Love is strong as life; he casts out fear,
Whoever lives true life, will love true love, 141,

336.
Who fears to speak of Ninety-Eight ? 102.

Year after year, 299.
Who has not walk'd upon the shore, 437.

Year after year I sit for them, 602.
"Whom the gods love die young.

The Ye are young, ye are young, 594.
thought is old, 272.

Yes, Cara mine, I know that I shall stand, 330.
Who remains in London, 281.

Yes; I write verses now and then, 15.
Whosoe'er had look'd upon the glory of that Yes, love, the Spring shall come again, 435.
day, 388.

Yes! thou art fair, and I had lov'd, 149,
Who will away to Athens with me? who, 3. Yes; when the ways oppose, 489.
Why groaning so, thou solid earth, 156.

Yet ah, that Spring should vanish with the
Why, having won her, do I woo? 234.
Why, let them rail! God's full anointed ones,

Yon silvery billows breaking on the beach, 269.
673.

You ask for fame or power, 645.
Why, when the world's great mind, 221.

You had two girls – Baptiste, 669.
Why will you haunt me unawares, 522.

You know, we French storm'd Ratisbon, 345.
Why wilt thou cast the roses from thine hair? You lay a wreath on murder'd Lincoln's bier,
397.

450.
Widow Machree, it's no wonder you frown, 89. You may give over plough, boys, 367.
“Wild huntsmen?' -'T was a flight of swans, You must be troubled, Asthore, 576,
239.

Young Rory O'More courted Kathleen Bawn,
Wild, wild wind, wilt thou never cease thy sigh-

88,
ing, 309.

Young Sir Guyon proudly said, 254.
Will there never come a season, 571.

You promise heavens free from strife, 231.
With breath of thyme and bees that hum, 488.

Your ghost will walk, you lover of trees, 352.
With deep affection, 55.

Your pleasures spring like daisies in the grass,
Wither'd pansies faint and sweet, 390.

13.
With fingers weary and worn, 120.

Your tiny picture makes me yearn, 165.
With half a heart I wander here, 524.

You smild, you spoke, and I believ'd, 13.
Within a low-thatch'd hut, built in a lane, 126. You take a town you cannot keep, 69.

rose, 312.

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