The wintry west extends his blast This army led by a delicate and tender prince dew This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air Thou that hast a daughter Thou that hast given so much to me. Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird! Thou whose sweet youth and early hopes enhance. Three score o' nobles rade up the king's ha' Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more 'Tis not in battles that from youth we train 'Tis truth, although this truth's a star To be furious To beguile the time To be no more sad cure To be or not to be, that is the question To fair Fidele's grassy tomb To heroism and holiness To the belfry one by one, went the ringers from the sun MRS. BROWNING 404 SCOTT 449 True bard and simple, -as the race Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky 'Twas All-Souls' eve, and Surrey's heart beat high 'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won Two went to pray-oh! rather say Two voices are there; one is of the sea When spring to woods and wastes around When biting Boreas, fell and doure When first thou didst entice to thee my heart When I a verse shall make When I consider how my light is spent When I do count the clock that tells the time When I love as some have told. When Love with unconfined wings When Music, heavenly maid, was young Ye sigh not when the sun his course fulfilled Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more When the moon is on the wave When the radiant morn of creation broke When with the virgin morning thou dost rise. Where have ye been, ye ill woman? Where is Timarchus gone? Where like a pillow on a bed Where the bee sucks, there suck I Where the remote Bermudas ride Which I wish to remark. While from the purpling east departs While malice, Pope, denies thy page Whither midst falling dew. Who counts himself as nobly born Who can divine what impulses from God Who is the happy warrior Who is the honest man Whose are the gilded tents that crowd the way Whoso him bethoft Why fearest thou the outward foe Willie stands in his stable door Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day Within my ears resounds that ancient song Within the mind strong fancies work With joys unknown, with sadness unconfessed. Ye banks and braes of bonnie Doon Ye scattered birds that faintly sing Yes, I answered you last night Yet a few days, and thee Yet do I fear thy nature. You lay a wreath on murdered Lincoln's bier You meaner beauties of the night Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and he sought me for his bride WORDSWORTH WORDSWORTH HERBERT ANONYMOUS JEAN INGELOW INGHAM F. B. SANBORN WORDSWORTH THOREAU BURNS TOM TAYLOR WOTTON LADY ANNE LINDSAY BYRON You that can look through Heaven, and tell the stars BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. Young Neuha plunged into the deep Your grace shall pardon me Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown BYRON. 512 BRYANT 44 SHAKSPEARE 510 WILLIAM STRODE 127 LOWELL 483 HERRICK. 185 BEN JONSON 93 HOGG 487 FROM SIMONIDES 463 DONNE SHAKSPEARE 440 MARVELL 41 BRET HARTE 504 WORDSWORTH 9 DAVID LEWIS BRYANT. E. S. H.. 518 33 196 195 266 162 ANONYMOUS 154 BUCHAN'S BALLADS 321 SHAKSPEARE 5 322 GOETHE: TRANS. BY FROTH Dig, gardiner, deep till -Fruns, gardener, Keep the Then, gardener, deep, - No brings the comt bune. Vibe Knows the secret of thes. pertume میرا M. If I were утит And you were ven rother of, Would you give المدة "ch, Fir, you are much & Maybe I'll awe you one. |