Get up, get up for shame, the blooming morn Give me my scallop's shell of quiet God of science and of light Goe, happy rose, and interwove Go, soul, the body's guest Grandmother's mother; her age I guess Great Ocean! strongest of Creation's sons Hail to the chief who in triumph advances Happy those early days when I Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings Hath this world without me wrought?' Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss-shay? He clasps the crag with hooked hands He is gone is dust He is gone on the mountains He leaves the earth, and says enough Hence, all yon vain delights! Hence, loathed melancholy! Here is the place; right over the hill Here let us live, and spend away our lives Her fingers shame the ivory keys Her finger was so small, the ring Her house is all of echo made He's a rare man He's gane! he's gane! he's frae us torn He that loves a rosy cheek He works in rings, in magic rings of eliance Hope smiled when your nativity was cast How changed is here each place man makes or fills! How many a time have I How many thousand of my poorest subjects How oft when thou my music, music play'st How soon hath time, the subtle thief of youth How they go by, those strange and dreamlike men! How young and fresh am I to-night! I am holy while I stand I called on dreams and visions to disclose I came to a laund of white and green. TENNYSON SPENSER. HERRICK. F. H. HEDGE TENNYSON CHANNING SHAKSPEARE 205 DRYDEN. 127 SHAKSPEARE 133 SHAKSPEARE. 441 24 267 6 10 G. CHAPMAN 198 BEN JONSON 269 SIR W. RALEIGH. 160 HEYWOOD 65 COWPER 182 CHAUCER. 96 HERRICK 443 JEAN INGELOW 443 WALLER 443 SIR W. RALEIGH 139 O. W. HOLMES 498 YOUNG 180 POLLOK 38 SCOTT 350 I challenge not the oracle I climbed the dark brow of the mighty Helvellyn. If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep. If men be worlds, there is in every one If this great world of joy and pain If thou be one whose heart the holy forms I have, thou gallant Trojan I have woven shrouds of air I hear thy solemn anthem fall I know a little garden close I made a footing in the wall I made a posie, while the day ran by I mind it weel, in early date I'm sitting alone by the fire I must go furnish up Inland, within a hollow vale I stood In sweet dreams, softer than unbroken rest In the frosty season, when the sun In the golden reign of Charlemagne the king. In the summer even In this world, the isle of dreams In vain the common theme my tongue would shun In what torn ship soever I embark In Xanadu did Kubla Khan In yonder grave a Druid lies. I see a dusk and awful figure rise I see before me the gladiator le I see men's judgments are I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus. I sift the snow on the mountains below I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris and he. Is there for honest poverty . Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child? It don't seem hardly right, John. It follows now you are to prove. It happen that I came on a day I think not on my father It is not to be thought of, that the flood It little profits that an idle king It's narrow, narrow make your bed It's no in titles or in rank It was fifty years ago It was the season, when through all the land. It was the time when lilies blow It was the winter wild. It was thy fear, or else some transient wind I wandered lonely as a cloud I watched her face, suspecting germs MILTON. W. CONGREVE N. P. WILLIS BURNS STEDMAN BURNS. SPENSER 903 DANIEL 517 King Ferdinand alone did stand one day upon the hill LOCKHART'S SPANISH BAL LADS 300 Lady Clara Vere De Vere Lady, there is a hope that all men have TENNYSON 365 CHANNING 153 SCOTT 334 SHAKSPEARE 510 167 274 MRS. HOWE. 230 521 SHAKSPEARE 69 WORDSWORTH. 98 "Lo," quoth he, "Cast up thine eye' Look not thou on beauty's charming Lord, when I quit this earthly stage Lord, with what care hast thou begirt us round Low-anchored cloud Lo, when the Lord made North and South Lo, where she comes along with portly pace Macbeth is ripe for shaking Man, thee behooveth oft to have this in mind' Men have done brave deeds Merciful Heaven! . Merry it is in the good green wood Methought I heard a voice say, "Sleep no more". Methinks it is good to be here Milton, thou shouldst be living at this hour Mine honesty and I begin to square Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors Motions and means, on land and sea at war Mourn, hills and groves of Attica Much have I travelled in the realms of gold My gentle Puck, come hither My God, I heard this day My liege, I did deny no prisoners. My lord, you told me you would tell the rest My mind to me a kingdom is. My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun My mother, when I learned that thou wast dead Naked on parents' knees, a new-born child. Needy knife-grinder, whither are you going? No more, no more, Oh! never more on me No splendor 'neath the sky's proud dome November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh CANNING. BYRON Now ponder well, you parents dear O Brignall Banks are wild and fair O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison! O divine star of heaven O draw me, Father, after thee O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea O'er western tides the fair spring day Of a' the airts the wind can blaw Of all the rides since the birth of time Of Nelson and the North O for my sake do you with fortune chide Oft in the stilly night Of truth, of grandeur, beauty, love, and hope Oft when returning with her loaded bill O heavens, if you do love old men O heard ye yon pibroch sound sad in the gale? Oh, have ye na heard o' the fause Sakelde Oh, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem. Oh, weel may the boatie row OI have passed a miserable night O joy hast thou a face O keeper of the sacred key O listen, listen, ladies gay Old wine to drink O Lord, in me there lieth nought O messenger, art thou the king, or 1?. O my luve's like a red, red rose. Once we built our fortress where you see O never rudely will I blame his faith One day, nigh weary of the irksome way O Proserpina. Or if the soul of proper kind. Orpheus with his lute made trees O Sacred Providence, who from end to end O than the fairest day thrice fairer night O that we now had here O the days are gone when beauty bright O then what soul was his, when, on the tops O then I see Queen Mab hath been with you O thou goddess O thou who in the heavens dost dwell O thou that swing'st upon the waving ear O! 'tis wondrous much Our boat to the waves go free Our brethren of New England use 501 2-9 SHAKSPEARE . 521 Our bugles sang truce; for the night cloud had lowered CAMPBELL Our revels now are ended BURNS SCOTT ANONYMOUS. POPE. SCOTT 482 336 354 271 450 Praise to God, immortal praise. Queen Bonduca, I do not grieve your fortune MRS. BARBAULD. – Oh, my sire! Sweep ho! Sweep ho! Sweet country life, to such unknown Reason thus with life Remove yon skull from out the scattered heaps. Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down Round my own pretty rose. Royal Egypt! Empress Rudolph, professor of the headsman's trade Ruin seize thee, ruthless king Rumble thy belly full! spit fire! spout rain! Run, shepherds, run where Bethlehem blest appears Say to me, whose fortunes shall rise higher Say, what is Honor? Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled See how the Orient dew. See living vales by living waters blest See the chariot at hand here of love See yonder souls set far within the shade Send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it. Shall I, wasting in despair? She, of whose Soul, if we may say, 'twas gold. She's gane to dwell in heaven, my lassie Shine kindly forth, September sun Silence augmenteth grief-writing increaseth rage Silent, O Moyle, be the roar of thy water Sing, and let your song be new Sing. O Goddess, the wrath, the untamable dander of Keitt Sitting in my window Sleep is like death, and after sleep So, when their feet were planted on the plain St. Mark's hushed abbey heard Star of the flowers and flower of the stars. Stern daughter of the voice of God, Sven Vonved binds his sword to his side. Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright Sweet echo, sweetest nymph that liv'st unseen Sweetness, truth, and every grace Sweet peace, where dost thou dwell Sweet scented flower, who art wont to bloom. BEN JONSON 196 SHAKSPEARE. HERBERT LOVELACE SHAKSPEARE 444 181 63 441 HERRICK. 190 WORDSWORTH 42 DRAYTON 130 D. A. WASSON 198 E. WALLER 73 SCOTT 415 |