Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story Oh, to be in England . Oh! young Lochinvar is come out of the west O tan-faced prairie-boy! Out of the focal and foremost fire 'O where hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son? O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being. Pibroch of Donuil Dhu Pipes of the misty moorlands PAGE 129 137 72 141 84 119 54 219 22 98 93 Roll on, thou deep and dark, blue Ocean—roll! Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife! . Spirits of old that bore me Stand by the Flag! Its stars, like meteors gleaming Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold The bed was made, the room was fit The breaking waves dashed high . 198 There are twelve months in all the year There is something in the Autumn that is native to my blood There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night. There's a tramping of hoofs in the busy street There's a happy time coming "There's no sense in going further-it's the edge of cultivation' IO 30 100 63 The royal feast was done; the King The world is too much with us; late and soon This bronze doth keep the very form and mold PAGE 226 149 212 232 89 61 This is the Chapel: here, my son 4I Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! 77 Three fishers went sailing out into the West 179 16 When a deed is done for Freedom, through the broad earth's Whither, midst falling dew 'Will you hear my story also With lifted feet, hands still When tulips bloom in Union Square When you hear the fire-gongs beat fierce along the startled street Where the pools are bright and deep Wide open and unguarded stand our gates 7 46 128 15 91 204 18 'Ye have robbed,' said he, 'ye have slaughtered and made You know, we French stormed Ratisbon 187 48 |