204

INDEX OF FIRST LINES.

Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height
Come down, ye graybeard mariners

Come home, come home and where is home for me
Consider the sea's listless chime

Dark brown is the river

Dead and gone, the days we had together.

Death closes all; but something ere the end

Drifting dreamily with the tide

Eastward as far as the eye can see

Enough that blessings undeserved.
Every age

Every day brings a ship

Every sail is full set, and the sky

Far up on Katahdin thou towerest.
For the lifting up of mountains.

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43

136

16

162

109

197

143

21

199

148

II

139

126

168

For the strength of the hills we bless thee

For us no past? nay, what is present sweetness

97

86

For we the mighty mountain plains have trod.
From the mountains to the champaign

Full many a glorious morning have I seen,

Give honor to their memories who left the pleasant strand

God give us peace! not such as lulls to sleep.

195

27

12

65

Not those whose life is hid with God.

New voices come to me where'er I roam.

Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the northwest died away

Not only around our infancy.

Not unremembered here the garish stage

O captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done.

121

95

O dweller in the valley land

177

O'er all the hill-tops.

200

Of old sat Freedom on the heights

Oh! askest thou of me

Oh, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth

Oh, it is pleasant with a heart at ease

Oh, sweet and fair! Oh, rich and rare

171

206

INDEX OF FIRST LINES.

Sauntering hither on listless wings.

See what a lovely shell.

Sinking, sinking, all the country slowly.
Shelf over shelf the mountain rose.

Slow toiling upward from the misty vale
Small current of the wilds away from men
Sometimes a dropping from the sky

Splendors of morning the billow-crests brighten
Stand here and look, and softly hold your breath
Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same
Storm in the night! for thrice I heard the rain
Sweet and low, sweet and low

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117

80

53

198

174

131

164

82

67

179

108

115

32

37

141

192

104

173

196

80

176

The merest bulge above the horizon's rim

The mountain and the squirrel.

The mountain wind !-most spiritual thing of all

The night is made for cooling shade

160
58

110

The pathway of the sinking moon

The poetry of earth is never dead

The sea is calm to-night

The waves are glad in breeze and sun

The wind ahead, the billows high

The wind it blew and the ship it flew

The world is too much with us; late and soon
They ran through the streets of the seaport town
Think thou and act; to-morrow thou shalt die
This feast-day of the sun, his altar there
This is the ship of pearl which, poets feign
This tract which the river of time
This willow is as old to me as life.
Those that of late had flitted far and fast

130

159

113

190

132

152

92

151

145

88

115

149

14

45

INDEX OF FIRST LINES,

207

Thou art the go-between of rustic lovers.
Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
To one who has been long in city pent
Touch us gently, Time.

Trust to the guiding god, foliow the silent sea
Two voices are there; one is of the sea
Ueber allen Gipfeln.

Under the cliff I walk in silence

Up in a wild where no man comes to look
Waves on the beach, and the wild sea-foam
We are building little homes on the sands
Weary of myself and sick of asking
We left behind the painted buoy
We ride and ride. High on the hills.
We sail toward evening's lonely star
We sat within the farm-house old
We wandered to the pine forest.
What does it take a day to make

What forests tall of tiniest moss

What shall I see if I ever go.

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112

12

199

37

92

200

63

175

177

71

137

34

185

170

72

88

118

161

20

When did we go to the Michigan woods.

When the tide comes in

Where is the girl, who, by the boatman's door

122

64

Where lies the land to which the ship would go

Who are they that prate of the sweet consolations of nature

Wild fields of ocean, piling heap on heap

Will ye gang wi' me and fare