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INDEX OF FIRST LINES.

A

CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlands bound

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A jolly comrade in the port, a fearless mate at sea
A Spirit haunts the year's last hours .
A sunny shaft did I behold
A weary lot is thine, fair maid
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase)
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight
Alexis calls me cruel
All thought, all passions, all delights
Among these latter busts we count by scores
As I lay a-thinking, a-thinking, a-thinking
As I was walking all alane
At me one night the angry moon
At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight

appears

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Because I breathe not love to everie one
Before my face the picture hangs
Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Beneath this starry arch
Between Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose
Bird of the wilderness
Blow, blow, thou winter wind
Break, break, break .
Burly dozing humble-bee.
By the moon we sport and play

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Child, amidst the flowers at play
Clerk Saunders and may Margaret
Clouds, lingering yet, extend in solid bars
Come, follow, follow me
Come live with me, and be my Love
Come, see the Dolphin's anchor forged—'tis at a

white heat now

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Come unto these yellow sands
Cyriack, this three years' day these eyes, though

clear

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Dear to the Loves, and to the Graces vow'd
Dishonour'd Rock and Ruin! that, by law
Dost thou idly ask to hear
Dost thou look back on what hath been
Down on the shore, on the sunny shore
Ere on my bed my limbs I lay
Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky
Fair daffodils, we weep to see
Faire, and faire, and twice so faire
False friend, wilt thou smile or weep
Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea
From Stirling castle we had seen
From you I have been absent in the spring
Full fathom five thy father lies .
Full knee-deep lies the winter-snow.
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may
Get up our Anna dear, from the weary spinning-

wheel
Give me a cell.
Go, lovely rose
Gold, I've none, for use or show
Good-bye, proud world, I'm going home
Had I but plenty of money, money enough and to

spare
Hail! beauteous stranger of the grove
Hail, Twilight, sovereign of one peaceful hour
Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings
Hast thou named all the birds without a gun
He is gone on the mountain
He that loves a rosie cheeke
Hear, sweet spirit, hear the spell
Hear the sledges with the bells
Hie upon Hielands
How do I love thee? let me count the ways
How happy is he born and taught
How long I sail'd and never took a thought
How strange it is to wake
How sweet it were, if without feeble fright

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I arise from dreams of thee
I cannot see the features right .
I come from haunts of coot and hern.
I do confesse thou’rt smooth and faire
I dream'd a dream, what can it mean
I dream'd that, as I wander'd by the way
I heard a thousand blended notes
I heard the dogs howl in the moonlight night
I lov'd him not; and yet now he is gone
I remember, I remember
I shot an arrow into the air
I wander'd by the brook-side
I will not have the mad Clytie .
I wish I were where Helen lies
I wish that when you died last May
If aught of oaten stop or pastoral song
Iu sober mornings, do not thou rehearse
In the greenest of our valleys
In the hour of my distress
In the merry month of May
In Xanadu did Kubla Kahn
Inland, within a hollow vale I stood
It fell about the Martinmas
It is not beautie I demand
It is the miller's daughter
It is the first mild day of March
It little profits that an idle king
Lady, wouldst thou heiress be .
Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son .
Let time and chance combine, combine
Like to the falling of a star
Look not thou on beauty's charming
Love me, sweet, with all thou art
Love, strong as death, is dead.
Low-flowing breezes are roaming the broad valley

dimm'd in the gloaming

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Merry, merry sparrow
Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold
Music, when soft voices die
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My heart is a-breaking, dear Tittie
No cloud, no relique of the sunken day

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No, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist
Now fades the last long streak of snow
Now hands to seed-sheet, boys .
Now that I, tying thy glass mask tightly .
Now the bright Morning-Star, day's harbinger .
Now the hungry lion roars
Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room

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O blithe new-comer! I have heard
O give me, from this heartless scene released
O Maryanne, you pretty girl
O Mary, go and call the cattle home
O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray
O saw ye not fair Ines
O Tibbie, I hae seen the day
O unknown Belov’d one! to the mellow season
O waly, waly, up the bank
0, where hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son
O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad
O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west
Oh friend, whom glad or grave we seek
Oh, lovely Mary Donnelly, it's you I love the best
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I ponder’d,

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weak and weary

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One more unfortunate
On Linden, when the sun was low
Orphan hours, the year is dead
Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had

lower'd.
Over hill, over dale .
Ov all the housen o' the pliace.

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Piping down the valleys wild
Poor Jenny were her Roberd's bride

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Queen and huntress, chaste and fair .

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Rest! this little fountain runs.

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Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness
Seven daughters had Lord Archibald
Shall I wasting, in despair
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Shepherds all, and maidens fair
She's up and gone, the graceless girl

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Sigh on, sad heart, for Love's eclipse
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and parte
So am I as the rich, whose blessed key
So here hath been dawning
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er
Still-born silence! thou that art
Surprised by joy-impatient as the wind
Sweet after showers, ambrosial air
Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes
Swifter far than summer's flight
Tall are the towers of O'Kennedy
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean
Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkinde
Tell me, thou star whose wings of light
That's my last Duchess painted on the wall
The dark green Summer with its massive hues
The might of one fair face sublimes my love
The mountain and the squirrel .
The Northern Star
The skies they were ashen and sober
The swallow with summer
The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing
The waters are flashing
The year lies dying in this evening light
There is no architect can build .
There lived a wife at Usher's Well
There was a jovial beggar
There's not a nook within this solemn Pass
They laid my lady in her grave
They shot him on the Nine-Stane Rig
Think me not unkind or rude
This ae nighte, this ae nighte
This Sycamore, oft musical with bees
Thou lingering star with lessening ray
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
'Twas in the prime of summer time
Two children in two neighbour villages
Under the greenwood tree
Up! quit thy bower, late wears the hour
Up the airy mountain
Up! up! ye dames, ye lasses gay
We are the sweet Flowers

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