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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
Beautiful! sir, you may say so
Beaver roars hoarse with melting snows
Before the starry threshold of Jove's court
Before thy stem, smooth seas were curled
Behold a silly tender babe

Being asked by an intimate party
Beneath an Indian palm, a girl
Below the bottom of the great abyss.
Be thou blest, Bertram! and succeed thy father
Better trust all, and be deceived

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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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.

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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 near to good is what is fair!

How oft when thou my music, music play'st
How pleasant were the songs of Toobonai!
How seldom, friends, a good great man inherits
How sleep the brave who sink to rest

How soon hath time, the subtle thief of youth
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
How they go by, those strange and dreamlike men!
How vainly men themselves amaze!

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

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Lady Clara Vere De Vere
Lady, there is a hope that all men have

SHAKSPEARE
DONNE
WORDSWORTH
WORDSWORTH
R. HEBER
THOREAU.
HERBERT
DONNE
WORDSWORTH
R. B. COFFIN
SHAKSPEARE
CHANNING

CHANNING

WILLIAM MORRIS

BYRON.

ᎻᎬᎡᏴᎬᎡᎢ .

442

283

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BURNS

220

BRET HARTE

495

36

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ARTHUR BOAR
WORDSWORTH.
TENNYSON
WORDSWORTH
TUCKERMAN
HERRICK.

22

357

186

HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD 448
HERRICK

123

O. W. HOLMES

232

180

DONNE
COLERIDGE

126

462

COLLINS
BYRON

514

BYRON

283

SHAKSPEARE

SHAKSPEARE

SHELLEY

HERRICK.
BROWNING

BURNS

BYRON
LOWELL

BEN JONSON
CHAUCER

SHAKSPEARE
WORDSWORTH
TENNYSON

SCOTT
BURNS.

LONGFELLOW

LONGFELLOW

TENNYSON
MILTON.

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W. CONGREVE

WORDSWORTH
PATMORE

SCOTT

N. P. WILLIS
BYRON.

BURNS
STEDMAN
BROWNING
BURNS

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

great

Knowing the heart of man is set to be
King Ferdinand alone did stand one day upon the hill LOCKHART'S SPANISH BAL-

LADS

SPENSER
DANIEL

.

TENNYSON
CHANNING

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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

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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

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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 haud 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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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

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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

ANONYMOUS
CHAUCER

Passion o' me! cried Sir Richard Tyrone.
Peace to all such

Pibroch of Donuil Dhu

Pleased we remember our august abodes
Praise to God, immortal praise.

Queen Bonduca, I do not grieve your fortune

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Our boat to the waves go free

Our brethren of New England use

BUTLER

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

Our revels now are ended

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BURNS

LOVELACE
CHAPMAN

CHANNING

SHAKSPEARE

SIR JOHN SUCKLING

BYRON

ANONYMOUS.

ANONYMOUS

BURNS

SCOTT

G. W. THORNBURY

POPE.

SCOTT

LANDOR

MRS. BARBAULD.

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

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