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If Thou survive my well-contented day.
If to be absent were to be
If women could be fair, and yet not fond
I have had playmates, Í have had companions
I heard a thousand blended notes.
I met a traveller from an antique land
I'm wearing awa', Jean.
In a drear-nighted December
In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining
In the sweet shire of Cardigan
I remember, I remember
I saw where in the shroud did lurk
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free.
It is not Beauty I demand
It is not growing like a tree
I travell’d among unknown men
It was a lover and his lass
It was a summer evening .
I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking .
I wander'd lonely as a cloud .
I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile
I wish I were where Helen lies .

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John Anderson my jo, John .

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Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Life! I know not what thou art
Life of Life! Thy lips enkindle.
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore.
Like to the clear in highest sphere
Love not me for comely grace
Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours
Many a green isle needs must be
Mary! I want a lyre with other strings
Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour
Mine be a cot beside the hill.
Mortality, behold and fear
Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes.
Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold.
Music, when soft voices die
My days among the Dead are past .
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My heart leaps up when I behold
My Love in her attire doth shew her wit
My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow
My thoughts hold mortal strife
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note
Not, Celia, that I juster am

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Now the golden Morn aloft
Now the last day of many days.

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O blithe new-comer! I have heard.
O Brignall banks are wild and fair.
Of all the girls that are so smart
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw
Of Nelson and the North
O Friend ! I know not which way I must look
Of this fair volume which we World do name.
Oft in the stilly night
O if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm
O listen, listen, ladies gay
O lovers' eyes are sharp to see
O Mary, at thy window be
O me! what eyes hath love put in my head.
O Mistress mine, where are you roaming
O my Luve's like a red, red rose
On a day, alack the day
On a Poet's lips I slept
Once did She hold the gorgeous East in fee
One more Unfortunate .
O never say that I was false of heart
One word is too often profaned .
On Linden, when the sun was low.
O saw ye bonnie Lesley
O say what is that thing call'd Light
O snatch'd away in beauty's bloom
O talk not to me of a name great in story
Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd.
Over the mountains
O waly waly up the bank
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being .
O World ! O Life! O Time.

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Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day
Phoebus, arise.
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu
Poor Soul, the centre of my sinful earth
Proud Maisie is in the wood.

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Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair .
Rarely, rarely, comest thou
Ruin seize thee, ruthless King
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day.
Shall I, wasting in despair
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
She is not fair to outward view.
She walks in beauty, like the night

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UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN

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