INDEX OF FIRST LINES. PAGE A CCURST be love, and they that trust his trains Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers As I in hoary winter's night As it fell upon a day Ask me no more where Jove bestows Ask not the cause why sullen Spring. A slumber did my spirit seal A sunny shaft did I behold As virtuous men pass mildly away Away, delights, go seek some other dwel'ing Blow high, blow low, let tempests tear 4I 87 ΙΟΙ Call for the robin-red-breast and the wren. Cease your music, gentle swains Charm me asleep, and melt me so Come away, come away, death Come hither, shepherd swain Come live with me and be my love Come sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving Dark, deep, and cold the current flows Drink to me only with thine eyes Drop, drop, slow tears Fair daffodils, we weep to see Fair pledges of a fruitful tree Fear no more the heat o' the sun First shall the heavens want starry light Gather ye rose-buds while ye may Glide, gentle streams, and bear Go to the once loved bowers 268 151 Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings 62 125 Hark! she is called, the parting hour is come 141 Honest lover whosoever How delicious is the winning How happy is he born and taught If I freely can discover If I had thought thou could'st have died If Love his arrows shoot so fast. If thou wilt ease thine heart If to be absent were to be I got me flowers to strew thy way I have had playmates, I have had companions I love, and he loves me again In a drear-nighted December In going to my naked bed as one that would have slept In time of yore when shepherds dwelt I played with you 'mid cowslips blowing I wandered lonely as a cloud Lay a garland on my hearse Life! I know not what thou art. Like to Diana in her summer weed Like to the falling of a star Look not thou on beauty's charming. Lords, knights, and squires, the numerous band Lord, thou hast given me a cell. Love is like a lamb, and love is like a lion, Margaret's beauteous-Grecian arts. My silks and fine array My soul, there is a country My true love hath my heart, and I have his Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note No! those days are gone away. Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger O blithe new-comer! I have heard O'er the level plains, where mountains greet me as Of all the girls that are so smart O, fly my soul! What hangs upon O happy dames, that may embrace Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom Oh turn away those cruel eyes Oh! what a pain is love O mistress mine! where are you roaming One silent night of late One word is too often profaned On Linden, when the sun was low Only a little more O reader! hast thou ever stood to see Orpheus with his lute made trees O ruddier than the cherry O saw ye not fair Ines Pack clouds away, and welcome day. Phillis is my only joy. Phoebe sat Piping down the valleys wild |