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A good sword and a trusty hand
A naked house, a naked moor.
A spirit haunts the year's last hours
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever .
A widow bird sate mourning for her love
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase !)
Alas! they had been friends in youth
All after pleasures as I rid one day .
All the world's a stage
And did those feet in ancient time
And is there care in heaven? And is there love?
And like a dying lady, lean and pale
Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?
As through the wild green hills of Wyre .
At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears
Away! The moor is dark beneath the moon
Because out of corruption burns the rose .
Before the starry threshold of Jove's Court
Behold her, single in the field
Beyond the ferry water
Blow, blow, thou winter wind
Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain are flying
Break, break, break .
Breathes there the man with soul so dead
By all means use sometimes to be alone
By yon castle wa', at the close of the day
Come then, my friend, my genius! Come along
Come unto these yellow sands .
Come, when no graver cares employ
Dear Doctor, I have read your play.
Deep in the shady sadness of a vale.
Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove
Drake he's in his hammock an' a thousand mile away
Earth has not anything to show more fair
Earth, ocean, air, beloved brotherhood
England ! awake! awake! awake! .
Fain would I change that note
Farewell to the Land where the gloom of my Glory
Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea .
For all we have and are
For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see
For Mercy, Courage, Kindness, Mirth
Four Seasons fill the measure of the year
Full fathom five thy father lies
Give me my scallop-shell of quiet
Give to me the life I love .
Green fields of England ! wheresoe'er
Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings
He clasps the crag with crooked hands
He either fears his fate too much
He leapt to arms unbidden
Helen, thy beauty is to me
Hence, loathèd Melancholy
Hence, vain deluding joys
Her strong enchantments failing
Here's a health to them that's away
Honour and shame from no condition rise
How happy is he born and taught
How should I your true love know
How sleep the Brave, who sink to rest
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank
I am monarch of all I survey
I'm wearin' awa', John
I am! yet what I am who cares, or knows?
I cannot ope mine eyes
I climb'd a hill as light fell short
I drean’d that, as I wander'd by the way
I have learn'd
I have seen old ships sail like swans asleep
I hear a sudden cry of pain
I know not what my secret is
I met a traveller from an antique land
I pant for the music which is divine
I see before me the Gladiator lie
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree
I wish I were where Helen lies .
If thou wast still, O stream
If you can keep your head when all about you
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
Into my heart an air that kills .
Is there for honest poverty
Is this the Region, this the Soil, the Clime
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It is a beauteous evening, calm and free .
It is an ancient Mariner
It is not growing like a tree
It keeps eternal whisperings around.
It was a' for our rightfu’ King .
It was a lover and his lass
It was the Rainbow gave thee birth.
It was the Winter wild
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Jog on, jog on, the footpath way
John Anderson, my jo, John
Joy and Woe are woven fine
Keen, fitful gusts are whisp’ring here and there
Know then thyself, presume not God to scan
Leans now the fair willow, dreaming
Let all the world in every corner sing
Little tongue of red-brown flame
Look not thou on beauty's charming
Look thy last on all things lovely
Man, one harmonious soul of many a soul
Me that 'ave been what I've been
Milton ! thou shouldst be living at this hour
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's in the Highlands, my heart is not here
My heart leaps up when I behold
My silks and fine array
My true love hath my heart, and I have his
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No coward soul is mine
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note
Now, God be thank'd Who has match'd us with His hour
Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile.
Now the bright morning Star, Day's harbinger
Oh! hush thee, my babie, thy sire was a knight
Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story
Oh, to be in England
Oh, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words?
Old Meg she was a Gipsy .
On a poet's lips I slept
On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble
One lesson, Nat let learn of thee.
Orpheus with his lute made trees
Others apart sat on a Hill retired
Our bugles sang truce-for the night-cloud had lower'd .
Over hill, over dale
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The sun descending in the west
The Sun does arise
The sun is warm, the sky is clear
The world is too much with us ; late and soon
There be none of Beauty's daughters
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods
There is sweet music here that softer falls
There lived a wife at Usher's well
There was a roaring in the wind all night
This is the weather the cuckoo likes
Thou art light and thou art free
Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness
Thou whose birth on earth
Tiger! tiger ! burning bright
To find the Western path
To my true king I offer'd free from stain
To one who has been long in city pent
Toll for the brave
Toussaint, the most unhappy man of men
True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank
Turning from these with awe, once more I raised
'Twas at the season when the Earth upsprings
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Under the greenwood tree
Under the wide and starry sky
Unfathomable Sea! whose waves are years
Waken, lords and ladies gay
Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie
Wee Willie Gray, and his leather wallet.
We wander'd to the Pine Forest
We who are old, old and gay
Whate'er the passion, knowledge, fame, or pelf
Whence and what art thou, execrable shape .
When first my brave Johnnie lad
When icicles hang by the wall.
When I consider how my light is spent
When I would muse in boyhood
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
When the lamp is shatter'd
When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame
When the voices of children are heard on the green
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought .
When winds that move not its calm surface sweep.
Where shall the lover rest?
Where the bee sucks, there suck I