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On either side the river lie.

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One lesson, Nature, let me learn of thee,

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O never say that I was false of heart,

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One word is too often profaned

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On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen-hundred

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O say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, III

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O thou that swing'st upon the waving hair
Our band is few but true and tried,

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Our bugles sang truce,-for the night-cloud had
lowered,

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Our doctor had called in another, I never had

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Out of a fired ship, which by no way

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O, well for him whose will is strong!

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"O where ha'e ye been, Lord Randal, my son?

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O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's
being,

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Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day,

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lips,

Rabbi Jehosha used to say

Rarely, rarely, comest thou,

Pilgrims, whose wandering feet have pressed
Piping down the valleys wild,

Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth
Pray but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed

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Proud Maisie is in the wood,

Proud word you never spoke, but you will speak

Prune thou thy words, the thoughts control

Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair,
Quiet, Lord, my froward heart:

Renowned Spenser lie a thought more nigh
"Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas," she says,
Round the cape of a sudden came the sea,. III
Sabrina fair,

Said Abner, "At last thou art come!
tell ere thou speak,

Saint Brandan sails the northern main;
Say not the struggle nought availeth,

Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frown'd
Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, .
Seamen three! What men be ye?

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See the Chariot at hand here of Love,

Set where the upper streams of Simois flow
Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Shall I tell you whom I love?

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She died in June, while yet the woodbine sprays
She fell asleep on Christmas Eve:

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She loves him; for her infinite soul is Love,
She sat and wept beside his feet; the weight

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VOL.

PAGE

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

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Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night

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Since all that I can ever do for thee.

Since there's no help, come let us kiss and
part,-

Sit down, sad soul, and count
Slayer of the winter, art thou here again?
Sleep sweetly in your humble graves,
So all day long the noise of battle roll'd
So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, .

Sometimes thou seem'st not as thyself alone,
Southward with fleet of ice

"Speak! speak! thou fearful guest!

Spirit that breathest through my lattice, thou. III
Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant

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St. Agnes' Eve-Ah, bitter chill it was!.
Star that bringest home the bee,
Steer, hither steer your wingèd pines, .
Stern Daughter of the voice of God!
Still to be neat, still to be drest,

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Strange fits of passion have I known:
Strew on her roses, roses,

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"Summer is coming, summer is coming.
Sunset and evening star,

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Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright!

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Sweet Echo, sweetest Nymph that liv'st unseen
Sweet in her green dell the flower of beauty
slumbers,

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Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,

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Thank Heaven! the crisis-.
Thanks to the morning light,

That time of year thou may'st in me behold
That which her slender waist confined
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the
fold,

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The awful shadow of some unseen Power.
The blessed Damozel lean'd out

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The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The day is done, and the darkness
The door of death is made of gold,

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The expense of Spirit is a waste of shame
The forward youth that would appear
The Fountains mingle with the River
The Frost performs its secret ministry,
The glories of our blood and state
The gray sea and the long black land;
The groves were God's first temples.
man learned

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The harp that once through Tara's halls
The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
The Jackdaw sat on the Cardinal's chair!
The king sits in Dunfermline town

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The Laird o' Cockpen he 's proud an' he's great,
The lark now leaves his wat'ry nest,

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The last and greatest herald of Heaven's King,
The linnet in the rocky dells,

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The muffled drum's sad roll has beat
The night is come, but not too soon; .
The night that has no star lit up by God,
The old mayor climbed the belfry tower,
The Percy out of Northumberland,
The play is done; the curtain drops,
The poetry of earth is never dead:
There are gains for all losses,
There be none of Beauty's daughters
There is a city, builded by no hand,
There is a flower I wish to wear, .
There is a Flower, the lesser Celandine,
There is a garden in her face

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There is a mountain and a wood between us,
There is an awful quiet in the air,
There is delight in singing, tho' none hear.
There is no flock, however watched and tended,
There lived a wife at Usher's Well,

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There's a palace in Florence, the world knows
well,

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There was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs.
There was a roaring in the wind all night; .
There was a time when meadow, grove, and
stream,

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There was a youth, and a well-beloved youth,
There were four of us about that bed;

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The soul of man is larger than the sky,

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