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A wet sheet and a flowing sea
Ay, but to die, and go, we know not where Ay! tear her tattered ensign down
Bankrupt, our pockets inside out
Being asked by an intimate party
Between the dark and the daylight Between the acting of a dreadful thing
Birdie, birdie, will you, pet
Blackened and bleeding, helpless, panting, prone
Break, Fantasy, from thy cave of cloud
Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny, bonny bride
But are ye sure the news is true?
But for ye speken of such gentilesse
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
Come on, come on, and where you go
Come pitie us, all ye who see
Come, see the Dolphin's anchor forged
Get up, get up for shame, the blooming morn
Go, soul, the body's guest
He that loves a rosy cheek
He works in rings, in magic rings of chance
Hope smiled when your nativity was cast
How changed is here each place man makes or fills!
How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean!
How happy is he born and taught
How many a time have I
How many thousand of my poorest subjects
How oft when thou my music, music play'st
How soon hath time, the subtle thief of youth
How young and fresh am I to-night!
I am holy while I stand
I called on dreams and visions to disclose
I came to a laund of white and green
Lady Clara Vere De Vere
HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD 448
O. W. HOLMES
N. P. WILLIS
Kings, queens, lords, ladies, knights, and damsels
Knowing the heart of man is set to be
Lately, alas! I knew a gentle boy
Let the bird of loudest lay
Life and thought have gone away
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore.
Lithe and listen, gentlemen.
Little I ask, my wants are few
Lo," quoth he, "Cast up thine eye
Look not thou on beauty's charming
Lord, with what care hast thou begirt us round
Loud is the vale, the voice is up
Love is a sickness full of woes.
Lo, when the Lord made North and South
Naked on parents' knees, a new-born child.
No more, no more, Oh! never more on me
No splendor 'neath the sky's proud dome
Now is the time for mirth
Now is the winter of our discontent.
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
O heavens, if you do love old men
O heard ye yon pibroch sound sad in the gale?
Oh, have ye na heard o' the fause Sakelde
Oh, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
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 thou that swing'st upon the waving ear
O! 'tis wondrous much
Out upon it: I have loved
Out upon time, who will leave no more
O waly, waly, my gay goss-hawk
O waly, waly, up the bank
O ye wha are sae guid yoursel
O young Lochinvar is come out of the West
Passion o' me! cried Sir Richard Tyrone.
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu
Pleased we remember our august abodes
Queen Bonduca, I do not grieve your fortune
Our boat to the waves go free
Our brethren of New England use
Our bugles sang truce; for the night cloud had lowered CAMPBELL
Our revels now are ended
SIR JOHN SUCKLING
G. W. THORNBURY
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
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