THE LADY OF SHALOTT. SIR LAUNCELOT AND QUEEN GUINEVERE SIR GALAHAD ST. AGNES' EVE A FAREWELL. 'COME NOT WHEN I AM DEAD' 'HAPLESS DOOM OF WOMAN' 'ASK ME NO MORE' 'SWEET AND LOW' 'WHAT DOES LITTLE BIRDIE SAY' O LET THE SOLID GROUND' BIRDS IN THE HIGH HALL-GARDEN' 'GO NOT, HAPPY DAY'. 'RIVULET CROSSING MY GROUND' 'COME INTO THE GARDEN, MAUD' 'I HAVE LED HER HOME' 'TEARS, IDLE TEARS' 'LATE, LATE, SO LATE' 'TURN, FORTUNE, TURN THY WHEEL' 'IN LOVE, IF LOVE BE LOVE' 'SWEET IS TRUE LOVE' MARIANA MARIANA IN THE SOUTH PAGE 124 131 132 133 134 138 140 142 143 144 144 144 145 145 146 146 147 148 149 151 154 157 157 158 158 159 159 161 164 165 168 170 170 MILKMAID'S SONG. THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER THE LETTERS To J. S. 'YOU ASK ME, WHY, THO' ILL AT EASE 'LOVE THOU THY LAND' THE REVENGE ODE ON THE DEATH OF THE DUKE OF WEL LINGTON THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE THE DEFENCE OF LUCKNOW 'BREAK, BREAK, BREAK' IN THE VALLEY OF CAUTERETZ THIS TRUTH CAME BORNE WITH BIER AND HEAR THE NOISE ABOUT THY KEEL' HE TASTED LOVE WITH HALF HIS MIND' 'WHEN ROSY PLUMELETS TUFT THE LARCH' 'NOW FADES THE LAST LONG STREAK OF SNOW' 'IS IT, THEN, REGRET FOR BURIED TIME' 'DOORS, WHERE MY HEART WAS USED TO BEAT' 'THERE ROLLS THE DEEP WHERE GREW THE TREE' PAGE 179 179 186 187 190 190 191 194 200 207 209 214 215 215 219 219 220 221 221 222 222 223 223 224 224 225 225 226 226 227 MAIN 30 'WHEN LAZARUS LEFT HIS CHARNEL-CAVE'. 'HER EYES ARE HOMES OF SILENT PRAYER' 'O THOU THAT AFTER TOIL AND STORM' 'THO' TRUTHS IN MANHOOD DARKLY JOIN' 'COULD WE FORGET THE WIDOW'D HOUR' 'BE NEAR ME WHEN MY LIGHT IS Low' 'DO WE INDEED DESIRE THE DEAD' 'OH YET WE TRUST THAT SOMEHOW GOOD' 'HE PAST; A SOUL OF NOBLER TONE' 'DOST THOU LOOK BACK ON WHAT HATH BEEN 'I DREAM'D THERE WOULD BE SPRING NO MORE' 'SWEET AFTER SHOWERS, AMBROSIAL AIR' 'HOW PURE AT HEART AND SOUND IN HEAD' 238 NOTES INDEX OF FIRST LINES D TO THE QUEEN Revered, beloved-O you that hold Than arms, or power of brain, or birth Victoria,—since your Royal grace To one of less desert allows This laurel greener from the brows Of him that utter'd nothing base; And should your greatness, and the care Then-while a sweeter music wakes, And thro' wild March the throstle calls, Take, Madam, this poor book of song; B |