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INDEX OF FIRST LINES

In the old void of unrecorded time....
In vain to me the smiling mornings shine.
Invisible as a wind along the sky....
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free.
It may indeed be phantasy when I......
It was late summer, and the grass again.

Lay down thy burden at this gate and knock.
Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust
Let me not to the marriage of true minds...
Like a musician that with flying finger..
Like young child who to his mother's door.
Like as a huntsman after weary chase....
Lord, with what care hast Thou begirt us round!
Love, he is nearer, though the moralist

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Mark when she smiles with amiable cheer..
Mary! I want a lyre with other strings..

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My love for thee doth march like armèd men.

Mysterious Night! when our first parent knew..

Methinks I have passed through some dreadful door.
Methought I saw my late espousèd saint..
Methought I saw the grave where Laura lay.
Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour.
Most glorious Lord of life! that, on this day.
Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes...
Mother of those whose need of mothering..
Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold.
My lady's presence makes the Roses red.

My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming..

Nay, never once to feel we are alone...

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Nearer the eagles swoop in darkening rings.

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No longer mourn for me when I am dead...

14

No more these passion-worn faces shall men's eyes.

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Not I myself know all my love for thee..
Not marble, nor the gilded monuments..
Not that the earth is changing, O my God!.
Now on the summit of Love's topmost peak.

O Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes....

O Friend! I know not which way I must look.
O Mighty Mother, hearken! for thy foes..
O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray.
O soft embalmer of the still midnight!.
O Son of man, by lying tongues adored.

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INDEX OF FIRST LINES

O Time! who know'st a lenient hand to lay.
Oft have I brooded on defeat and pain.
Oft have I seen at some cathedral door.
Oft in the after-days, when thou and I.
On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose.
One after one the high emotions fade..
One day I wrote her name upon the strand.
Once more the eternal melodies from far..
Others abide our question. Thou art free.
Our love is not a fading, earthly flower...
Over that breathing waste of friends and foes.

Peace, shepherd, peace! What boots it singing on?..
Pleasures lie thickest where no pleasures seem.
Poet, whose unscarred feet have trodden Hell.
Rebuke me not! I have nor wish nor skill.
Remember me when I am gone away..
Revolving worlds, revolving systems, yea.
Royal and saintly Cashel! I would gaze.

Science! true daughter of Old Time thou art!.
Scorn not the sonnet; Critic, you have frowned.
Set me whereas the sun doth parch the green.
Shall he not bless me? Will he never speak.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?..
She turned the fair page with her fairer hand
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part
So all the vows of friendship which we swore..
Some laws there are too sacred for the hand.
Speak low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet.
Spring speaks again, and all our woods are stirred.
Surprised by joy - impatient
impatient as the Wind....
That he is dead the sons of kings are glad..

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That time of year thou mayst in me behold.
The bubble of the silver-springing waves...

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The darkness throbbed that night with the great heat.

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The dead abide with us! Though stark and cold..
The expense of spirit in a waste of shame....
The garlands fade that Spring so lately wove..

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The holiest of all holidays are those...

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The hollow sea-shell which for years hath stood.

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The lost days of my life until to-day..
The Ocean, at the bidding of the Moon..
The nightmare melts at last, and London wakes.
The poetry of earth is never dead.....

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INDEX OF FIRST LINES

The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings...

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The world is too much with us; late and soon.

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There is a silence where hath been no sound.

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These have I lost: now cushats only call..

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These strewn thoughts, by the mountain pathway sprung. 102

They do but grope in learning's pedant round.
They rose to where their sovran eagle sails..
This holy season, fit to fast and pray..

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Though to the vilest things beneath the moon.
To leave unseen so many a glorious sight.
To one who has been long in city pent..

To stand upon a windy pinnacle.....
Two Voices are there; one is of the sea.

Under the arch of Life, where love and death...
Were I as base as is the lowly plain....
What art thou, Mighty One! and where thy seat?.
What lies beyond the splendour of the sun...
What means this mighty chant, wherein the wail.
What meant the poets in invective verse.
What power is this? What witchery wins my feet.
What was't awakened first the untried ear.
When do I see thee most, beloved one?.
When I behold what pleasure is Pursuit.

When I consider how my light is spent.
When I consider Life and its few years
When I hear laughter from a tavern door.
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes.
When in the chronicle of wasted time...
When in the dark we slowly drift away..
When our two souls stand up erect and strong.
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought.
Where Venta's Norman castle still uprears..
While men pay reverence to the mighty things..
Whoso list to hunt? I know where is an hind!..
With brain o'erworn, with heart a summer clod..
With heart not yet half-rested from Mont Blanc..
With how sad steps, O Moon! thou climb'st the skies!.
With stammering lips and insufficient sound......
With you a part of me hath passed away.

Yet it is pitiful how friendships die.............

Yon silvery billows breaking on the beach.

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THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW

AN INITIAL FINE OF 25 CENTS

WILL BE ASSESSED FOR FAILURE TO RETURN THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY WILL INCREASE TO 50 CENTS ON THE FOURTH DAY AND TO $1.00 ON THE SEVENTH DAY OVERDUE.

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