If thou must love me, let it be for nought. If to be absent were to be If to grow old in Heaven is to grow young. In a drear-nighted December In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes. In the beginning there was nought In the hour of my distress VI VI "Is there anybody there?" said the traveller Into the woods my Master went Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead It is not to be thought of that the flood It was her first sweet child, her heart's de- It's hard to know if you're alive or dead I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking Jesu, Lover of my soul, John Anderson my jo, John John Gilpin was a citizen King Charles, and who'll do him right now? Let folly praise that fancy loves, I praise and Like as the waves make towards the pebbled Like souls that balance joy and pain Like to the clear in highest sphere Little Ellie sits alone. clown Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked Look in my face; my name is Might-have- Love, dearest Lady, such as I would speak Methought I saw my late espoused Saint Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour! Mine be a cot beside the hill; Morning, evening, noon and night Mortality, behold and fear! VI Most glorious Lord of Life! that, on this day Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold, Music, when soft voices die,. 162 My dear and only love, I pray My good blade carves the casques of men,. My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not My Love in her attire doth show her wit, My loved, my honored, much-respected friend, My lute, be as thou wast when thou didst My silks and fine array, My soul goes clad in gorgeous things, . My spirit is too weak-mortality Near where the royal victims fell No longer mourn for me when I am dead No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,— No! those days are gone away Noon-and the north-west sweeps the empty road, V 102 Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, Not I myself know all my love for thee: Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is O Death! thou tyrant fell and bloody!. O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung O have ye na heard o' the fause Sakelde? O land of Promise! from what Pisgah's height. IV 164 O liberty! with profitless endeavour. IV 103 O love that is not love, but dear, so dear! . "O Mary, go and call the cattle home, O may I join the choir invisible. O Mistress mine, where are you roaming? O say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, O waly, waly, up the bank 28 O, well for him whose will is strong! O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms "O where ha'e ye been, Lord Randal, my Oh, England is a pleasant place for them that's |