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Between the dark and the daylight

Between the acting of a dreadful thing

Birdie, birdie, will you, pet

Blackened and bleeding, helpless, panting, prone

Blow, blow, thou winter wind

Blue crystal vault and elemental fires

Bonny Kilmeny gaed up the glen

Brave Schill, by death delivered

Break, Fantasy, from thy cave of cloud

Breathe, trumpets, breathe slow notes
Bright flag at yonder tapering mast

Bury the Great Duke

Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny, bonny bride

But all our praises, why should lords engross

But are ye sure the news is true?

But fare you weel, auld Nickie-Ben.

But for ye speken of such gentilesse

But I wol turn againe to Ariadne

But souls that of his own good life partake
By broad Potomac's silent shore
By Nebo's lonely mountain

Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin
Call me no more

Calm and still light on yon great plain
Captain or Colonel, or Knight in arms.
Child Dyring has ridden him up under öe
Clothed with state, and girt with might
Come away, come away, death
Come into the garden, Maud.

Come on, come on, and where you go

Come on, sir, here's the place: stand still
Come pitie us, all ye who see

Come seeling night

Come, see the Dolphin's anchor forged
Come thou who art the wine and wit

Come to Licöo! the sun is riding
Come to the river's reedy shore
Comrades, leave me here a little
Consolers of the solitary hours

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J. G. PERCIVAL
SCOTT

39

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HOLMES

282

BRET HARTE

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LOWELL

476

MILTON

104

PUNCH.

227

ROBERT SOUTHWELL

191

BRET HARTE

496

MILNES

289

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Get up, get up for shame, the blooming morn
Give me a spirit that on life's rough sea.
Give me my cup, but from the Thespian well
Give me my scallop's shell of quiet
Give place, ye ladies, and begone.
God moves in a mysterious way.
God of science and of light

Goe, happy rose, and interwove
Goldilocks sat on the grass
Go, lovely rose

Go, soul, the body's guest
Grandmother's mother; her age I guess
Great God, greater than greatest.

Great Ocean! strongest of Creation's sons
Gude Lord Græme is to Carlisle gane.

Hail to the chief who in triumph advances
Happy, happier far than thou

Happy those early days when I

Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings
Hark, how I'll bribe you

Hath this world without me wrought?'

Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss-shay?

Hearken in your ear

He clasps the crag with hooked hands

He is gone is dust

He is gone on the mountains.

He leaves the earth, and says enough

Hence, all you vain delights!

Hence, loathed melancholy!

Hence, vain deluding joys!

Here is the place; right over the hill

Here let us live, and spend away our lives Here might I pause and bend in reverence Her eyes the glow-worme lend thee

Her fingers shame the ivory keys

Her finger was so small the ring

Her house is all of echo made

He's a rare man

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YOUNG

180

POLLOK

38

SCOTT

350

SCOTT

450

MRS. HEMANS

51

VAUGHAN

173

SHAKSPEARE

441

SHAKSPEARE.

159

91

492

234

38

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TENNYSON

J. J. G. WILKINSON

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I hear thy solemn anthem fall

I know a little garden close

I made a footing in the wall

I made a posie while the day ran by

I mind it weel, in early date

I'm sitting alone by the fire

I must go furnish up

Inland, within a hollow vale I stood

In sweet dreams softer than unbroken rest

In the frosty season, when the sun

In the golden reign of Charlemagne the king. In the hour of my distress

In the summer even

In this world, the isle of dreams

In vain the common theme my tongue would shun

In what torn ship soever I embark

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

In yonder grave a Druid lies.

I see a dusk and awful figure rise

I see before me the gladiator lie

I see men's judgments are

I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus.

I sift the snow on the mountains below

I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers

I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris and he.

Is there for honest poverty

Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child?

It don't seem hardly right, John

It follows now you are to prove.

It happed that I came on a day

I think not on my father

It is not to be thought of that the flood

It little profits that an idle king

It's narrow, narrow make your bed

It's no in titles or in rank

It was fifty years ago

It was the season, when through all the land.

It was the time when lilies blow

It was the winter wild.

It was thy fear, or else some transient wind

I wandered lonely as a cloud

I watched her face, suspecting

germs

I wish I were where Helen lies

I would that thou might always be
I've taught me other tongues

John Anderson, my jo, John

John Brown in Kansas settled like a steadfast Just for a handful of silver he left us

Just now I've ta'en a fit of rhyme

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Kings, queens, lords, ladies, knights, and damsels great

Knowing the heart of man is set to be

R. B. COFFIN

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King Ferdinand alone did stand one day upon the hill

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Lady Clara Vere De Vere

Lady, there is a hope that all men have

TENNYSON

365

CHANNING

153

Lately, alas! I knew a gentle boy

Leaning with parted lips, some words she spake.
Less worthy of applause, though more admired
Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Let the bird of loudest lay

Life and thought have gone away

Life, I know not what thou art

Life may be given in many ways

Light-winged smoke! Icarian bird

Like a poet hidden

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore.

Like to the clear in highest sphere.

Lithe and listen, gentlemen."

Little I ask, my wants are few

Little was King Laurin

Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day

"Lo," quoth he, "Cast up thine eye'

Lo! on his far resounding path

Look not thou on beauty's charming

Lord, when I quit this earthly stage

Lord, with what care hast thou begirt us round
Loud is the vale, the voice is up
Love is a sickness full of woes.
Low-anchored cloud

Lo, when the Lord made North and South
Lo, where she comes along with portly pace

Macbeth is ripe for shaking

Man, thee behooveth oft to have this in mind
Man wants but little here below
Men have done brave deeds

Merciful Heaven!

Merry it is in the good green wood

Methought I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more
Methinks it is good to be here

Milton, thou shouldst be living at this hour
Mine eyes have seen the glory

Mine honesty and I begin to square

Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors

Motions and means, on land and sea at war
Mournfully, sing mournfully.
Mourn, hills and groves of Attica

Much have I travelled in the realms of gold
My dear and only love, I pray

My gentle Puck, come hither

My God, I heard this day

My liege, I did deny no prisoners.

My lord, you told me you would tell the rest
My mind to me a kingdom is.

My mistress's eyes are nothing like the sun

My mother, when I learned that thou wast dead
Mysterious night! when our first parent knew

Naked on parents' knees, a new-born child.
Nature is made better by no mean
Nay, you wrong her, my friend

Needy knife-grinder, whither are you going?
Night is fair Virtue's immemorial friend
No abbey's gloom, nor dark cathedral stoops
No! is my answer from this cold bleak ridge
No man is the lord of any thing.

No more, no more, Oh! never more on me
Northward he turneth through a little door
No screw, no piercer can.

No splendor 'neath the sky's proud dome
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note
Not mine own fears nor the prophetic soul
Nought loves another as itself

November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh
Now deeper roll the maddening drums
Now hand your tongue

Now is the time for mirth

Now is the winter of our discontent.
Now Nature hangs her mantle green

Now overhead a rainbow bursting through

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Now ponder well, you parents dear
Now wol I turn unto my tale agen

O Brignall Banks are wild and fair

O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon
O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison!

O divine star of heaven

O draw me, Father, after thee

O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea
O'er western tides the fair spring day.
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw

Of all the rides since the birth of time
Of Nelson and the North

O for my sake do you with fortune chide
Often trifling with a privilege

Oft in the stilly night

Of truth, of grandeur, beauty, love, and hope
Oft when returning with her loaded bill

O heavens, if you do love old men

O heard ye yon pibroch sound sad in the gale?
Oh, go not yet, my love

Oh, have ye na heard o' the fause Sakelde

Oh, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
Oh, lovely Mary Donnelly, it's you I love the best
O how canst thou renounce the boundless store
O how feeble is man's power.

Oh, weel may the boatie row

OI have passed a miserable night

O joy hast thou a face

O keeper of the sacred key

O listen, listen, ladies gay

Old wine to drink

O Lord, in me there lieth nought

O messenger, art thou the king, or I?
O my luve's like a red, red rose.
Once git a smell o' musk into a draw
Once more, Cesario

Once we built our fortress where you see
On the mountain peak.

O never rudely will I blame his faith'

One day, nigh weary of the irksome way
On Linden, when the sun was low

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289

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COLERIDGE
SPENSER
CAMPBELL
SHAKSPEARE

T. MOORE

WORDSWORTH
SHAKSPEARE
SHAKSPEARE

BURNS
LOVELACE

CHAPMAN

CHANNING

BUTLER

Our bugles sang truce; for the night cloud had lowered CAMPBELL

Our boat to the waves go free

Our brethren of New England use

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