INDEX OF FIRST LINES. A barking sound the shepherd hears. A slumber did my spirit seal A trouble, not of clouds, or weeping rain. An age hath been when earth was proud An Orpheus! an Orpheus !-yes, faith may grow bold Another year!-another deadly blow Art thou a Statesman, in the van Art thou the bird whom man loves best At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears Behold, within the leafy shade Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed Blest is this isle-our native land Bright flower, whose home is everywhere! By their floating mill Calvert! it must not be unheard by them. Come ye-who, if (which Heaven avert !) the land Dear child of nature, let them rail! . Earth has not anything to show more fair. England! the time is come when thou should'st wean Fair is the swan, whose majesty, prevailing Five years have past; five summers, with the length From Stirling Castle we had seen Go, faithful portrait! and where long hath knelt -Hast thou then survived Here pause: the poet claims at least this praise I am not one who much or oft delight I heard a thousand blended notes I saw far off the dark top of a pine I shiver, spirit fierce and bold thought of thee, my partner and my guide I travelled among unknown men I've watched you now a full half-hour I wandered lonely as a cloud I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged pile! I watch, and long have watched, with calm regret If nature, for a favourite child If thou indeed derive thy light from Heaven In the sweet shire of Cardigan In this still place, remote from men In youth from rock to rock I went It is the first mild day of March Lance, shield, and sword relinquished-at his side Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour Nay, traveller! rest. This lonely yew-tree stands Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room O blithe new-comer! I have heard O dearer far than light and life are dear O friend! I know not which way I must look O nightingale ! thou surely art. Oh! pleasant exercise of hope and joy! Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies Pleasures newly found are sweet Return, content! for fondly I pursued Rotha, my spiritual child! this head was grey. Sacred religion, "mother of form and fear" Ꮓ |