WILDE, RICHARD HENRY (1789-1847), 289. WOODBERRY, GEORGE EDWARD (1855- ), 18. WORDSWORTH, WILLIAM (1770-1850), 5, 7, 43, 49, 59, 83, 99, WOTTON, SIR Henry (1568–1639), 116, 142. ANONYMOUS, 10, 124, 181, 189, 196, 279, 283, 298, 303, 307, 318, INDEX OF FIRST LINES A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by A steed! a steed of matchless speed A wearied pilgrim I have wander'd here 219 A weary lot is thine, fair maid 161 39 354 334 A wet sheet and a flowing sea A widow bird sat mourning for her love A widow she had only one! -- Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase Ah what avails the sceptred race Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon All love, at first, like gen'rous wine All June I bound the rose in sheaves. All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair All that thou art not, makes not up the sum All the breath and the bloom of the year Although I enter not. Among thy fancies tell me this Another lamb, O Lamb of God, behold Art thou pale for weariness Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers? As a fond mother, when the day is o'er As I came round the harbour buoy As I was walking all alane. As it fell upon a day As ships, becalm'd at eve, that lay As thro' the land at eve we went Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea Ask me why I send you here At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears Be not afraid to pray - Bonnie wee thing! cannie wee thing! that I could gallant it like you to pray is right Beauties, have ye seen this toy 306 Behind him lay the gray Azores. 45 Behold her, single in the field 59 Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy 365 340 133 Brave flowers Break, break, break 172 284 Breathes there the man with soul so dead Bright Star! would I were steadfast as thou art By the rude bridge that arched the flood Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren Come live with me and be my Love Come not, when I am dead. Come rest in my bosom, my own stricken deer Come, Sleep! O Sleep! the certain knot of peace Come, thou monarch of the vine. Come unto these yellow sands Come, we shepherds, whose blest sight Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas Creep into thy narrow bed Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud Cyriack, this three years' day, these eyes, though clear Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days De massa ob de sheepfol' Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Death stands above me, whispering low Does the road wind up-hill all the way Duncan Gray cam here to woo Fair pledges of a fruitful tree Fame, like a wayward girl, will still be coy Farewell if ever fondest prayer Fate! I have asked few things of thee 154 353 Fear Death? - to feel the fog in my throat 347 Fear no more the heat o' the sun 20 Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea 78 Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes 16 Flower in the crannied wall 207 Foil'd by our fellow men, depress'd, outworn 233 Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet 174 Four Seasons fill the measure of the year Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand God of our fathers, known of old Green grow the rashes O Hail thou most sacred venerable thing! Hame, hame, hame! oh, hame I fain would be! Happy were he could finish forth his fate 35 245 228 281 325 24 42 25 199 |