« AnteriorContinuar »
Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, 385.
Bright Flower! whose home is everywhere, 334.
Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou
Bright tulips, we do know, 123.
Bury the Great Duke, 666.
But anxious cares the pensive nymph opprest,
But do not let us quarrel any more, 787.
By this the northerne wagoner had set, 29.
A barking sound the Shepherd hears, 338.
Ae fond kiss, then we sever! 296.
A gentle knight was pricking on the plaine, 22.
A glorious people vibrated again ... 536.
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight, 568.
A little mushroom table spread, 122.
All hurnan things are subject to decay, 180.
All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their
All that I know, 773.
All thoughts, all passions, all delights, 367.
Almost at the root, 353.
Among these latter busts we count by scores,
And is this — Yarrow? — This the Stream,
And the first gray of morning filled the east,
And thou art dead, as young and fair, 450.
A povre widwe, somdel stope in age, 14.
A rose-bud, by my early walk, 294.
A simple Child, 303.
As Julia once a-slumbering lay, 120.
A slumber did my spirit seal, 309.
As one who hangs down-bending from the side,
As thro' the land at eve we went, 627.
A sweet disorder in the dress, 119.
As when a ship, that flyes fayre under sayle,
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever, 546.
At the midnight in the silence of the sleep-
Ave Maria! o'er the earth and sea, 498.
Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered Saints, whose
A wanderer is man from his birth, 602.
Ay me! how many perils doe enfold, 69.
Calme was the day, and through the trem-
bling ayre, 112.
Close by those meads, for ever crown'd with
Clouds, lingering yet, extend in solid bars, 340.
Coldly, sadly descends, 612.
Come, dear children, let us away, 596.
Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain
Come into the garden, Maud, 664.
Come unto these yellow sands, 115.
Comin thro' the rye, poor body, 298.
Courage!' he said, and pointed toward the
Creep into thy narrow bed, 599.
Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a
Cupid, as he lay among, 119.
Cyriack, this three years' day these eyes,
though clear, 137.
Daughter of Jove, relentless Power, 247.
Day! Faster and more fast, 751.
Dear, though to part it be a hell, 119.
Dim as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars,
Duncan Gray cam here to woo, 299.
Bards of Passion and of Mirth, 560.
Earth has not anything to show more fair, 332.
Behold her, single in the field, 335.
Earth, Ocean, Air, beloved brotherhood! 508.
Behold! I see the haven nigh at hand, 101. Elaine the fair, Elaine the lovable, 699.
Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed, 334. Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind! 470.
Beside the pleasant Mill of Trompington, 318. Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! 355.
Bid me to live, and I will live, 121.
Ever let the Fancy roam, 559.
Blow, blow, thou winter wind, 115.
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away! 760.
Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light, 400.
Break, break, break, 626.
I Fair daffodils, we weep to see, 122.
How changed is here each spot man makes or
How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, 238.
Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, 123.
Fair seed-time had my soul, and I grew up,
Fair Star of evening, Splendour of the west,
Fare thee well! and if for ever, 451.
Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the
Fear death? — to feel the fog in my throat,
First I salute this soil of the blessed, river and
Five years have past; five summers, with the
Flee fro the prees, and dwelle with sothfast-
Flower in the crannied wall, 626.
For auld lang syne, my dear, 298.
From harmony, from heav'nly harmony, 196.
From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done,
From Stirling castle we have seen, 336.
Full fathom five thy father lies, 116.
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, 121.
Get up, get up for shame, the blooming morn,
Goethe in Weimar sleeps; and Greece, 611.
Go, fetch to me a pint o' wine, 294.
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill,
Go thou forth, my book, though late, 124.
Grow old along with me! 790.
I am just seventeen years and five months
I am monarch of all I survey, 262.
I am poor brother Lippo, by your leave! 781.
I and Clive were friends - and why not? 827.
I arise from dreams of thee, 533.
I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way,
If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song, 241.
I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden, 541.
If from the public way you turn your steps,
If this great world of joy and pain, 357.
I held it truth, with him who sings, 629.
I met a traveller from an antique land, 528.
In one of those excursions may they ne'er,
In the deserted, moon-blanched street, 600.
In the hour of my distress, 124.
In these deep solitudes and awful cells, 220.
In these gay thoughts the Loves and Graces
In this lone, open glade I lie, 602.
In vain to me the smiling mornings shine,
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan, 377.
I said — Then, dearest, since 't is so, 776.
I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds and bow-
I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he,
Is there for honest poverty, 300.
Is this a fast, to keep, 126.
Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child,
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, 332.
It is an ancient Mariner, 358.
“It is not to be thought of that the Flood,"
It little profits that an idle king, 624.
I travelled among unknown men, 309.
It seems a day, 307.
It was a dreary morning when the wheels, 316.
I wandered lonely as a cloud, 337.
I weep for Adonais - he is dead! 518.
Had I but plenty of money, money enough
and to spare, 764.
Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! 535.
Happy the man whose wish and care, 205.
Hark! ah, the nightingale, 598.
Hark, hark! the lark at Heaven's gate sings,
Harp of the North! that mouldering long hast
Hast thou a charm to stay the morning-star,
Ha! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie? 287.
Hence, loathèd Melancholy, 130.
Hence, vain deluding Joys, 132.
Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee, 124.
High in the breathless Hall the Minstrel sate,
High on a throne of royal state, which far,
High time now gan it wex for Una fayre, 93.
Home they brought her warrior dead, 627..
•Ho!' quod the knight, 'good sir, na-more of
Just for a handful of silver he left us, 760.
John Anderson my jo, John, 295.
John Gilpin was a citizen, 273.
Kentish Sir Byng stood for his King, 759.
King Charles, and who'll do him right now? O Friend! I know not which way I must look,
Know ye the land where the cypress and Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray, 310.
Oh goodly golden chayne! wherewith yfere, 76.
O Rome, my country! city of the soul! 432.
Leodogran, the king of Cameliard, 670. Oh! snatch'd away in beauty's bloom, 455.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds, 118. Oh, to be in England, 765.
Light flows our war of mocking words; and O, Jenny's a' weet, poor body, 298.
O Lord our lord, thy name how merveillous,
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled
O loyal to the royal in thyself, 749.
Live, live with me, and thou shalt see, 123. O Mary, at thy window be! 301.
Lo! I the man, whose Muse whylome did O mistress mine, where are you roaming? 115.
O, my luve is like a red, red rose, 298.
Lord, Thou hast given me a cell, 125.
Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee, 333.
On either side the river lie, 617.
Maid of Athens, ere we part, 449.
One word is too often profaned, 542.
Many a green isle needs must be, 528.
On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred
Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour, ninety-two, 823.
O, saw ye bonie Lesley, 299.
Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold, O that those lips had language! Life has passed,
Music, when soft voices die, 542.
O that 't were possible, 665.
My hair is grey, but not with years, 470. O thou by Nature taught, 238.
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains, | o Thou that in the Heavens does dwell, 293.
O thou, the wonder of all days! 125.
My heart leaps up when I behold, 330. O thou! whatever title suit thee, 281.
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not O thou who bad'st thy turtles bear, 242.
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's
My lov'd, my honor'd, much respected friend! being, 532.
O, Willie brew'd a peck o' maut, 296.
My seventeenth year was come, 315.
O world! O life! O time! 543.
My sister! my sweet sister! if a name, 452. O ye, wha are sae guid yoursel, 288.
My thirst I slaked, and, from the cheerless
Queen Guinevere had fled the court, and sat,
Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the North-
west died away, 766.
Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow, 249.
No cloud, no relique of the sunken day, 368. Rough wind, that moanest loud, 543.
No longer mourn for me when I am dead, 118. Rousseau, Voltaire, our Gibbon, and De
Not marble, nor the gilded monuments, 117. Staël, 470.
Not with more glories, in th' ethereal plain, Said Abner, "At last thou art come! Ere I
tell, ere thou speak," 766.
Nought is there under heav'ns wide hollow Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic; you have
Now the golden morn aloft, 248.
Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, 299.
Now westlin winds and slaught'ring guns, Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, 579.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? 116.
Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room, Shapcot! to thee the fairy state, 122.
She dwelt among the untrodden ways, 309.
She said: the pitying audience melt in tears,
O blithe New-comer! I have heard, 336.
O, Brignall banks are wild and fair, 412. She should never have looked at me, 762.
Of all the cities in Romanian lands, 199.
She walks in beauty, like the night, 455.
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw, 295.
"She was a Phantom of delight,” 337.
Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit, Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 298.
Shut not so soon; the dull-ey'd night, 122.
"Shut, shut the door, good John!' fatigued I There was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs,
Since brank, por stone, nor earth, nor boundless There was a lass, and she was fair! 301.
There was a roaring in the wind all night, 330.
fona tyme this world was so stedfast and There was a time when meadow, grove, and
souls of Poets dead and gone, 544.
There was in Asie, in a greet citee, 11
Ht. Agnes Eve -- Ah, bitter chill it was! 560. The sea is calm to-night, 598.
Stern Daughter of the Voice of God! 338. These to His Memory — since he held them
Stop, Christian passer-by! — Stop, child of dear, 689.
The sky is overcast, 303.
Strange fits of passion have I known, 308. The splendor falls on castle walls, 627.
Strew on her rowe, rones, 581.
The sun is warm, the sky is clear, 532.
Strong Son of God, immortal Love, 629. The sun upon the Weirdlaw Hill, 413.
Sunset and evening star, 750.
The twentieth year is well-nigh past, 279.
fjweet and low, sweet and low, 627.
The way was long, the wind was cold, 384.
Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain, The woods decay, the woods decay and fall,
Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes, 119. The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Swiftly walk o'er the western wave, 542.
This is the month, and this the happy morn,
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, 127.
Though the day of my destiny's over, 452.
Tell me where is fancy bred, 115.
Thou ling'ring star with less'ning ray, 296.
That second time they hunted me, 774. Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness, 567.
That's my last Duchess painted on the wall, Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies,
That story which the bold Sir Bedivere, 742. Three years she grew in sun and shower, 309.
That time of year thou mayst in me behold, Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused, 614.
Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry, 117.
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the 'T is known, at least it should be, that
The Chieftain reared his form on high, 409. 'T is morning; and the sun with ruddy orb,
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, 245. 262.
The Deil's awa, the Deil's awa, 297.
'T is the middle of night by the castle clock,
The Deil cam fiddlin thro' the town, 297.
The fountains mingle with the river, 534. Titan! to whose immortal eyes, 483.
The Frost performs its secret ministry, 379. To die be given us, or attain! 581.
The gallant Youth, who may have gained, 356. To fair Fidele's grassy tomb, 243.
The gloomy night is gath'ring fast, 290. Toll for the brave! 278.
The isles of Greece, the Isles of Greece! 496. To me, fair friend, you never can be old, 118.
The last tall son of Lot and Bellicent, 677. To one who has been long in city pent, 544.
The lovely lass of Inverness, 297.
T' our tale. - The feast was over, the slaves
The noble hart, that harbours vertuous gone, 498.
Toussaint, the most unhappy man of men!
The Poet's soul was with me at that time, 320. 333.
The poplars are feli'd; farewell to the shade, 'Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won, 196.
'Twas on a lofty vase's side, 244.
There be none of Beauty's daughters, 451.
There is sweet music here that softer falls, 623. Under the greenwood tree, 115.
There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier, 618.
Upon a time, before the faery broods, 570.
There's a palace in Florence, the world knows Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books, 304.
There's not a joy the world can give like that Verse, a breeze mid blossoms straying, 382.
it takes away, 450.
There's not a nook within this solemn Pass, | Waken, lords and ladies gay, 412.
We are na fou, we're nae that fou, 296.