Take, O take those lips away Tary no longer; toward thyn heritage Tell me not of a face that's fair Th' expense of Spirit in a waste of shame 510 453 839 That time of year thou may'st in me behold That zephyr every year The blessèd Damozel lean'd out The boat is chafing at our long delay The chough and crow to roost are gone The fierce exulting worlds, the motes in rays The days are sad, it is the Holy tide The forward youth that would appear 688 777 355 288 The gray sea and the long black land The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece ! 724 390 788 бог The lark now leaves his wat'ry nest The last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King The leaves are falling; so am I The linnet in the rocky dells. The lopped tree in time may grow again 301 232 575 735 108 504 The man of life upright 175 The merchant, to secure his treasure 424 The moth's kiss, first! 723 The murmur of the mourning ghost 765 The Nightingale, as soon as April bringeth 91 The rain set early in to-night. 720 The red rose whispers of passion 831 l'he reivers they stole Fair Annie The ring, so worn as you behold The Rose was sick and smiling died The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er 372 255 No. The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings. The spacious firmament on high 39 433 The thirsty earth soaks up the rain The twentieth year is wellnigh past The wine of Love is music The world is too much with us; late and soon The world's great age begins anew. The year's at the spring The young May moon is beaming, love . Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now There is a mountain and a wood between us There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream There were twa sisters sat in a bour There's a glade in Aghadoe, Aghadoe, Aghadoe There's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield There's a woman like a dew-drop, she's so purer than the purest 722 There's not a nook within this silent Pass 540 They are all gone into the world of light! 365 They are waiting on the shore 804 They flee from me that sometime did me seek 37 They seem'd, to those who saw them meet 710 They that have power to hurt and will do none 155 They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead Thou art to all lost love the best 518 Through griefand through danger thy smile hath cheer'd my way 583 Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts Throw away Thy rod Thus the Mayne glideth Thus when the silent grave becomes Thy restless feet now cannot go Thy soul within such silent pomp did keep Time is the feather'd thing 'Tis a dull sight To all you ladies now at land To fair Fidele's grassy tomb To live within a cave-it is most good To me, fair friend, you never can be old To my true king I offer'd free from stain To these whom death again did wed Tossing his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles. Trust thou thy Love: if she be proud, is she not sweet? Under the wide and starry sky Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward. Underneath this myrtle shade. Underneath this sable herse Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart Up the airy mountain Upon my lap my sovereign sits Urns and odours bring away!. 748 The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings. The twentieth year is wellnigh past 471 The wine of Love is music 799 The world is too much with us; late and soon 535 The world's great age begins anew. 607 The young May moon is beaming, love. Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now The year's at the spring Thee too, modest tressed maid There ance was a may, and she lo'ed na men. There is a garden in her face. There is a mountain and a wood between us 378 There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream There's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield 866 There's a woman like a dew-drop, she's so purer than the purest 722 540 They are all gone into the world of light! They that have power to hurt and will do none 155 They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead They all were looking for a king Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts Through grief and through danger thy smile hath cheer'd my way 583 Throw away Thy rod Thus the Mayne glideth Thus when the silent grave becomes Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts Thy restless feet now cannot go Thy soul within such silent pomp did keep To all you ladies now at land To live within a cave-it is most good 1 To me, fair friend, you never can be old To these whom death again did wed To-day, all day, I rode upon the down Tossing his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles . True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank Trust thou thy Love: if she be proud, is she not sweet? 'Twas the dream of a God Twenty years hence my eyes may grow Under the greenwood tree Under the wide and starry sky Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward. Underneath this myrtle shade. Underneath this sable herse Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart! 769 165 142 |