Puslapio vaizdai
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Siccine separat amara mors, 554.

That was a brave old epoch, 648.

Sigh his name into the night, 569.
Silence. A while ago, 502.
Sing, I pray, a little song, 21.

Sing the song of wave-worn Coogee, Coogee in
the distance white, 625.

Singer of songs, do you know that your youth is
flying? 668.

Sister Simplicitie, sing, sing a song to me, 370.
Sit down, sad soul, and count, 21.

Sleep that like the couched dove, 91.

So, Freedom, thy great quarrel may we serve,

148.

Softly sinking through the snow, 445.
So I arm thee for the final night, 578.
So long he rode he drew anigh, 408.
Some clerks aver that as the tree doth fall, 384.
Some years ago, ere time and taste, 48.
So sweet love seem'd that April morn, 439.
Soulless, colorless strain, thy words are the
words of wisdom, 331.

So when the old delight is born anew, 292.
Spare all who yield; alas, that we must pierce,
539.

Speak, quiet lips, and utter forth my fate, 532.
Speed on, speed on, good master, 634.
Spirit of Spring, thy coverlet of snow, 611.
Spirit of Twilight, through your folded wings,

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The ancient memories buried lie, 434.
The auld wife sat at her ivied door, 469.
The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht, 502.

The baron hath the landward park, the fisher
hath the sea, 74.

The Barons bold on Runnymede, 112.
The bay is set with ashy sails, 669.
The bees about the Linden-tree, 315.

.

The bird's song, the sun, and the wind, 653.
The blessed damozel lean'd out, 392.
The Books say well, my Brothers! each man's
life, 247.

The breaths of kissing night and day, 570.
The broken moon lay in the autumn sky, 168.
The buds awake at touch of Spring, 545.
The Bulbul wail'd, "Oh, Rose! all night I
sing, 250.

The butterfly from flower to flower, 330.
The Chancellor mused as he nibbled his pen,
631.

The changing guests, each in a different mood,
396.

The characters of great and small, 467.
The chime of a bell of gold, 436.

The churchyard leans to the sea with its dead,
444.

--

The commissioner bet me a pony
I won, 616.
The crab, the bullace, and the sloe, 264.
The crimson leafage fires the lawn, 292.
The curtain on the grouping dancers falls, 607.
The curtains were half drawn, the floor was

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The lover of child Marjory, 662.
The loves that doubted, the loves that dis-
sembled, 555.

The men of learning say she must, 392.
The merry-go-round, the merry-go-round, the
merry-go-round at Fowey, 261.

The monument outlasting bronze, 239.
The moon-white waters wash and leap, 547.
The moorland waste lay hushed in the dusk of
the second day, 572.

The Mother of the Muses, we are taught, 16.
The mother will not turn, who thinks she hears,
396.

The mountain peaks put on their hoods, 640.
The mountain sheep are sweeter, 47.
The music had the heat of blood, 601.
The Musmee has brown velvet eyes, 251.
The nest is built, the song hath ceas'd, 150.
The night has a thousand eyes, 533.
The Northern Lights are flashing, 633.

Then saw they how there hove a dusky barge,
208.

Theocritus! Theocritus! ah, thou hadst plea-
sant dreams, 49.

The odor of a rose: light of a star, 276.
The old mayor climb'd the belfry tower, 324.
The old men sat with hats pull'd down, 321.
The orb I like is not the one, 77.

The play is done the curtain drops, 306.
The Poem of the Universe, 153.

The poet stood in the sombre town, 511.

The point is turned; the twilight shadow fills,
659.

The poplars and the ancient elms, 514.
The pouring music, soft and strong, 292.
The primrwose in the sheäde do blow, 107.
There be the greyhounds! lo'k! an' there's
the heäre! 107.

There came a soul to the gate of Heaven, 237.
The red tiled towers of the old Château, 667.
There falls with every wedding chime, 12.
There is a book, who runs may read, 171.
There is a flower I wish to wear, 16.
There is a green hill far away, 182.
There is an Isle beyond our ken, 547.

There is a safe and secret place, 174.

There is a singing in the summer air, 283.
There is a soul above the soul of each, 400.
There is a stream, I name not its name, 215.
There is delight in singing, though none hear,

13.

There is no land like England, 211.

There is no laughter in the natural world, 491.
There is no mood, no heart-throb fugitive, 275.
There is sweet music here that softer falls, 194.
There lies a little city leagues away, 651.
There never were such radiant noons, 564.
There's a joy without canker or cark, 496.
There the moon leans out and blesses, 532.
There they are, my fifty men and women, 359.
There was a gather'd stillness in the room, 146.
There was a lady liv'd at Leith, 54.
There was a time, so ancient records tell, 25.
There were four of us about that bed, 403.
There were ninety and nine that safely lay,

182.

There were three young maids of Lee, 509.

The roar of Niagara dies away, 255.
The rose is weeping for her love, 161.
The rose thou gav'st at parting, 77.
The rosy musk-mallow blooms where the south
wind blows, 609.

The ruddy sunset lies, 670.

The sea is calm to-night, 226.

The sea! the sea! the open sea! 19.

These dreary hours of hopeless gloom, 158.
These little Songs, 319.

The skies have sunk, and hid the upper snow,
217.

The Sonnet is a fruit which long hath slept, 275,
The Sonnet is a world, where feelings caught,

275.

The soul of man is larger than the sky, 57.
The spell of Age is over all, 668.

The splendor falls on castle walls, 199.
The splendor of the kindling day, 378.
The Spring will come again, dear friends, 162.
The stream was smooth as glass, we said, 31.
The summer sun is falling soft on Carbery's
hundred isles, 97.

The sunset in the rosy west, 669.

The sun shines on the chamber wall, 322.
The sun strikes, through the windows, up the
floor, 135.

The swallow, bonny birdie, comes sharp twit-
tering o'er the sea, 83.

The swarthy bee is a buccaneer, 664.
The tale was this, 26.

The thing is but a statue after all, 457.
The time shall come when wrong shall end, 127.
The tomb of God before us, 308.

The tongue of England, that which myriads, 12.
The training-ship Eurydice, 391.

The unfathomable sea, and time, and tears, 524.
The vale of Tempe had in vain been fair, 57.
The victor stood beside the spoil, and by the
grinning dead, 335.

The villeins clustered round the bowl, 641.
The voice that breath'd o'er Eden, 172.
The wattles were sweet with September's rain,
630.

The white blossom's off the bog and the leaves
are off the trees, 506.

The wind flapp'd loose, the wind was still, 398.
The wind of death that softly blows, 675.
The wisest of the wise, 15.

The world, not hush'd, lay as in trance, 33′′.
They are waiting on the shore, 260.
They call her fair. I do not know, 149.
The year 's at the spring, 348.

They found it in her hollow marble bed, 563.
They hasten, still they hasten, 655.

They look'd on each other and spake not, 410,
They mock'd the Sovereign of Ghaznin: one
saith, 250.

They rous'd him with muffins- they rous'd
him with ice, 478.

They say that Pity in Love's service dwells.

371.

They say that thou wert lovely on thy bier,

56.

They shot young Windebank just here, 593.
They told me, Heracleitus, they told me you
were dead, 232.

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, 641.
This relative of mine, 465.

247.

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,
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 fill'd 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."
word." 149.

66
"Love has no such

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 beautiful 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.

The 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

night," 256.

Good-

'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.
'Tis 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.

'Twas 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.

'T was in the prime of summer time, 113.
'Twas just before the hay was mown, 77.
'T was the body of Judas Iscariot, 279.
'Twas the day beside the Pyramids, 322.
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 oaz'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, 341.

Up into the cherry tree, 523.
Up, my dogs, merrily, 643.

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 laugh; we weep, 20.
We are in love's land to-day, 420.

We are what suns and winds and waters make
us, 8.

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 nor lets them
range, 565.

What makes a hero?-not success, not fame,

27.

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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, 38.
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 arc 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. 34.
When the soul sought refuge in the place
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 hom
673.

When you are dead some day, my dear, 568.
Where are the swallows fled, 312.
Where art thou gone, light-ankled Youth? &
Where Ausonian summers glowing, 56.
Where did you come from, baby dear? 164.
Where, girt with orchard and with olive-yard
554.

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With pipe and flute the rustic Pan, 485.
With purple glow at even, 654.

With rosy hand a little girl press'd down, 14.
With the Orient in her eyes, 666.

Word was brought to the Danish king, 94.
Would God my heart were greater; but God
wot, 422.

Would that the structure brave, the manifold
music I build, 362.

Yea, love, I know, and I would have it thus,
593.

Yea, Love is strong as life; he casts out fear,
336.

Year after year, 299.

Year after year I sit for them, 602.

Ye are young, ye are young, 594.

Yes, Cara mine, I know that I shall stand, 330.
Yes; I write verses now and then, 15.

Yes, love, the Spring shall come again, 435.
Yes! thou art fair, and I had lov'd, 149.
Yes; when the ways oppose, 489.

Yet ah, that Spring should vanish with the
rose, 342.

Yon silvery billows breaking on the beach, 269.
You ask for fame or power, 645.

You had two girls - Baptiste, 669.
You know, we French storm'd Ratisbon, 345,
You lay a wreath on murder'd Lincoln's bier,
450.

You may give over plough, boys, 367.
You must be troubled, Asthore, 576.
Young Rory O'More courted Kathleen Bawn,
88.

Young Sir Guyon proudly said, 254.

You promise heavens free from strife, 231.
Your ghost will walk, you lover of trees, 352.
Your pleasures spring like daisies in the grass,

13.

Your tiny picture makes me yearn, 165.
You smil'd, you spoke, and I believ'd, 13.
You take a town you cannot keep, 69.

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