Nature and the Poet "O Friend! I know not which way I must look" Ode on Intimations of Immortality Ode to Duty. On the Extinction of the Venetian Republic Personal Talk . "She dwelt among the untrodden ways” "She was a phantom of delight" "Surprised by joy-impatient as the Wind" The Solitary Reaper The Trosachs The Two April Mornings "The world is too much with us; late and soon" "There was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs" "Three years she grew in sun and shower" To My Sister To Sleep To the Cuckoo To Toussaint L'Ouverture Upon the Sight of a Beautiful Picture Within King's College Chapel, Cambridge Yarrow Unvisited WOTTON, SIR HENRY Character of a Happy Life . PAGE 727 591 756 679 587 578 484 475 534 479 472 556 532 591 748 588 471 749 584 649 557 581 610 730 INDEX OF FIRST LINES A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by A friend or stranger comes he?- A happy lover who has come PAGE 584 401 833 A Sensitive Plant in a garden grew A slumber did my spirit seal. 484 All thoughts, all passions, all delights And the first gray of morning filled the east 148 742 469 308 513 Avenge, O Lord! Thy slaughtered Saints, whose bones 585 Bright star! would I were steadfast as thou art 455 Broad the forests stood (I read) on the hills of Linteged But do not let us quarrel any more. But, knowing now that they would have her speak Can it be right to give what I can give Come, dear children, let us away 86 217 107 513 767 821 76 459 Come lovely and soothing death. Come, why so hot, Alceste?-Leave me, I say Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet 'tis early morn Contemplate all this work of Time "Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land Cyriack, this three-years-day these eyes, though clear Dark house, by which once more I stand . Earth has not anything to show more fair PAGE 555 402 740 180 850 269 744 673 564 832 563 854 744 841 451 681 673 565 Fair Daffodils, we weep to see 618 Fear no more the heat o' the sun Five years have past; five summers, with the length Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heaven, first-born 339 652 Happy insect, what can be 643 Happy the man whose wish and care 583 655 Have pity, pity, friends, have pity on me 667 PAGE Having this day my horse, my hand, my lance 449 He that is just and firm of will 729 He was all man: let this be said 13 He will come straight. Look you lay home to him 388 847 Helen, thy beauty is to me 470 Here, where the beech-nuts drop among the grasses Here, where precipitate Spring, with one light bound How delicious is the winning 639 633 509 How do I love thee? Let me count the ways 516 730 How many a father have I seen How many thousand of my poorest subjects How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth I am not One who much or oft delight I arise from dreams of thee . I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house I cannot see the features right. I enter, and I see thee in the gloom I envy not in any moods I grieved for Buonaparté, with a vain I lift my heavy heart up solemnly "I love you, sweet: how can you ever learn I never gave a lock of hair away I met a traveler from an antique land I passed beside the reverend walls I read, before my eyelids dropped their shade I sometimes hold it half a sin.. 442 834 590 582 512 444 548 515 843 287 830 I strove with none, for none was worth my strife I will go back to the great sweet mother 609 463 If all the pens that ever poets held If from the public way you turn your steps 432 598 152 717 If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange If it must be; if it must be, O God If the red slayer think he slays "If thou beest he-but oh, how fallen! how changed In a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland "In harmony with Nature"? Restless fool In many a cavern on the wild hill-slopes PAGE 515 666 737 335 514 624 765 738 454 In the desert a fountain is springing It chanced that I, the other day It is not to be thought of that the Flood 570 568 248 670 196 589 It is time to be old . It little profits that an idle king John Anderson my jo, John Just for a handful of silver he left us Know'st thou the land of white-robed orange trees Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son Let me not to the marriage of true minds Love's fruit in all the world is only this Maid of Athens, ere we part Men, brother men, that after us yet live . My blood hath been too cold and temperate 749 715 305 538 592 620 734 621 564 510 743 741 547 553 854 646 739 454 668 443 580 2 457 368 |