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I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining,
I saw the little boy,

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I saw the long line of the vacant shore,

1 saw two clouds at morning,

I saw two maids at the kirk,

I say, whatever you maintain,

I see the ancient master pale and worn,

I shall not ask Jean Jacques Rousseau,

I shall not see thee. Dare I say,

I sit on the lonely headland,

Is it not possible that all the love,

I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris and he

Is there, for honest poverty,

Is this a fast - to keep

I stopped to read the milestone here,
It comes betwixt me and the amethyst,
I thought to find some healing clime,
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,
It is enough; I feel, this golden morn,
It is not death, that sometime in a sigh,
It is not growing like a tree,

It is not that my lot is low,

It is the good of dreams- so soon they go
It is the miller's daughter,

It is the Soul that sees; the outward eyes,
It lies around us like a cloud-.

It must be so-Plato, thou reason'st well!
It must be so, poor, fa ling, mortal thing!.
It's O my heart, my heart, .

It's very hard! - and so it is,

It's we two, it's we two, it's we two for aye,

It was a blithesome young jongleur,

It was an old, distorted face,

It was a summer evening,

It was many and many a year ago,

It was not in the winter,

It was not meant,

It was the winter wild,

I've drunk good wine,

I've heard the lilting at our ewe-milking,

I've regretted most sincerely,

I've wandered east, I've wandered west,

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H. W. Longfellow,.

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Life's mystery, — deep, restless as the ocean,
Life's sadly solemn mystery,.

Life will be gone ere I have lived;

Light after darkness,

Like a lady's ringlets brown,.

Like morning blooms that meet the sun,

Like to the clear in highest sphere,

Listed into the cause of sin,

Little inmate, full of mirth,

Lo, from the city's heat and dust,.

Lo! here a little volume, but large book,
Lo! here the best, the worst, the world,
Lo, it is the even of To-day,

Long waited for, the lingering sun arose ;
Look at his pretty face for just one minute!
Look at me with thy large brown eyes,.
Look off, dear Love, across the sallow sands,
Look through mine eyes with thine,

Look, when a painter would surpass the life,
Lord, for the erring thought,

Lord, living here are we—

Lord, many times I am aweary quite,
Lord, what a busy, restless thing,

Lord, what a change within us one short hour,.

Lord, when I quit this earthly stage,

Lord, with what care hast thou begirt us round,

Lo! that small office! there th' incautious guest,

Love, dearest lady, such as I would speak,

Love is too great a happiness,

Love me if I live! .

Lovely, lasting peace of mind!

Love that hath us in the net,

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Martial, the things that do attain,
Maud Muller, on a summer's day, .
Men of thought, be up and stirring,
Midnight in drear New England,
Mid the flower-wreathed tombs I stand,
Midway about the circle of the year,
Mild offspring of a dark and sullen sire!

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
Mine to the core of the heart, my beauty!
Minutely trace man's life; year after year,
Misfortune, I am young-niy chin is bare,

Month which the warring ancients strangely styled,.
"More poets yet!" I hear him say,

Mortality, behold and fear,

Most perfect attribute of love, that knows,

Mother, in the sunset glow,

Mother of tortures! persecuting Zeal,
Move eastward, happy earth, and leave,

Much have I travelled in the realms of gold,
Music, when soft voices die,

Muster thy wit, and talk of whatsoever,
My coachman, in the moonlight there,
My conscience is my crown; . .
My critic Hammond flatters prettily,

My daughter! with thy name this song begun,
My days pass pleasantly away; .

My fairest child, I have no song to give you,

My friendly fire, thou blazest clear and bright,.
My God. I thank Thee, who hast made,

My grief or mirth,.

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains,
My heid is like to rend, Willie,

My liege, your anger can recall your trust,

My life is like the summer rose,

My little child, so sweet a voice might wake,
My little love, do you remember,

My little maiden of four years o.d

My mind to me a kingdom 18,

Mynheer, blease helb a boor oldt man,

My pictures blacken in their frames,

Myself I force some narrowest passage through,

My sister my sweet sister! if a name,

My soul, there is a country, .

My soul to-day,

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Mysterious Night! when our first parents knew,
My uncle Philip, hale old man,

My wind has turned to bitter north.

My window that looks down the west,

Nae star was glintin' out aboon,
Nature, in zeal for human amity,

Nay, Lord, not thus! white lilies in the spring,
Nay, smile not at my sullen brow,

Nay, soul, though near to dying, do not this!

Nay, thank me not again for those,

Near a small village in the West,

Nearer, my God, to thee,

Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,
Never any more,

New being is from being ceased;

No blank, no trifle, Nature made, or meant,

No coward soul is mine,

No; I shall pass into the Morning Land,

No man e'er found a happy life by chance;
None are unhappy; all have cause to smile,.
Noon, and the northwest sweeps the empty road,
Nor cold nor stern, my soul! yet I detest,
Nor force nor fraud shall sunder us! O ye-
Nor reason, nor affection, no, nor both,

No song of a soldier riding down,
No sound of life was coming,

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
Not a kiss in life; but one kiss, at life's end,
Not from the whole wide world I choose thee,
Nothing but leaves; the spirit grieves,.
Nothing resting in its own completeness,
Nothing to wear! Now, as this is a true ditty,
Not in a moment drops the rose,

.

Not made by worth, nor marred by flaw,
No, Tom, you may banter as much as you please;
Not profitless the game, even when we lose,
Nought is there under heaven's wide hollowness,
Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods,
Now haud ye there, ye're out of sight,
Now is my love all ready forth to come;
Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars,
Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,

Now summer finds her perfect prime!

Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger,

Now the third and fatal conflict for the Persian throne,
Now we're afloat upon the tropic sea;

O bairn, when I am dead,

O beautiful new life within my bosom,

O blithe new-comer! I have heard,

October turned my maple leaves to gold;

O dark mysterious stream, I sit by thee,
O'er waves that murmur ever nigh,

O'er wayward childhood would'st thou hold firm rule,

O faint, delicious spring-time violet,

O fair midspring, besung so oft and oft,

Of all the attributes whose starry rays,.

Of all the mysteries wherethrough we move,
Of all the streams that seek the sea,.

Of all the thoughts of God that are,

Of all the woo.iland flowers of earlier spring,
Of mortal glory O soon darkened ray !

Of Nelson and the North,

Of other men I know no jealousy,
Often I have heard it said,

Often the painful present is comforted,
Oft have I walked these woodland paths,
Oft in the stilly night,

Oft may the spirits of the dead descend,

Oft see we in the garish round of day,

O gentle, gentle summer rain,

O gift of God! O perfect day;

O grandly flowing River!

O God! if this indeed be all,

O God! whose thoughts are brightest light,

O God, whose thunder shakes the sky,

Oh! a dainty plant is the Ivy green,

O happiest lie, whose riper years retain,

O happy glow, O sun-bathed tree,

Oh, beautiful green grass! Earth-covering fair

Oh, deem not they are blest alone,

Oh, ever skilled to wear the form we love,

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Oh, Life, I breathe thee in the breeze,
Oh, listen to the howling sea,

Oh, long the weary vigils since you left me

Oh, many are the poets that are sown,

Oh, miserable comfort! Loss is loss,

Oh! nature's noblest gift my gray goose-quill,
Oh! never did a mighty truth prevail,

Oh! not in strange portentous way,

O hour of all hours, the most blessed upon earth,

Oh! say can you see by the dawn's early light,.
Oh, the broom, the yellow broom!

Oh, the earth and the air!.

Oh, the green things growing,

Oh! there are looks and tones that dart,

Oh, the soul-haunting shadows,

Oh! the world gives little of love or light,

Oh, to be back in the cool summer shadow,

Oh! watch you well by daylight,

Oh! welcome,

Oh, what shall I do, dear,

Oh! when 'tis summer weather,

"Oh, where hae ye been, my ain Johnnie?"

Oh, who Cabul's sweet region may behold,

Oh! who shall lightly say that Fame,

Oh why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Oh, yet we trust that, somehow, good,
Oh! yield not, thou sad one, to sighs,

O lassie ayont the hill! .

Old friends and dear! it were ungentle rhyme,

Old house, how desolate thy life!

Old neighbor, for how many a year,

O Liberty, thou goddess heavenly bright,

O little feet! that such long years,

O love, come back, across the weary way,

O Love Divine, that stoopedst to share,

O lovely Mary Donnelly, it's you I love the best!

O loving God of Nature!

"O Mary, go and call the cattle home,

O may I join the choir invisible,

O Memory! thou fond deceiver,

O mystic, mighty flower whose frail white leaves,

One adequate support, .

Once, in the flight of ages past,

.

Once, looking from a window on a land,

Once on a time the days of the week,

Once on my mother's breast, a child, I crept,

Once upon a midnight dreary,

One by one the sands are flowing,

One more unfortunate, .

One reads to me Macaulay's "Lays,'

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One summer day, when birds flew high,

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192

One sweetly solemn thought,.

P. Cary,

123

One word is too often profaned,

Shelley

490

On Linden, when the sun was low,

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Only a little child,.

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Hageman,
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Mace,
Willis,
Lover,
Howells,

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On the Righi Kulm we stood,

On the Sabbath-day, .

Holland,

275

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O reader! last thou ever stood to see,

On thy fair bosom, silver lake!

On what foundations stands the warrior's pride,

Open the gates of the Temple;

O pilgrim, comes the night so fast?

O popular applause! what heart of man,

O Science, whose footsteps wander,

Percival,

413

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