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WILDE, RICHARD HENRY (1789-1847), 289.
WITHER, GEORGE (1588-1667), 265.
WOLFE, CHARLES (1791-1823), 156.

WOODBERRY, GEORGE EDWARD (1855- ), 18.

WORDSWORTH, WILLIAM (1770-1850), 5, 7, 43, 49, 59, 83, 99,
102, 110, 115, 141, 148, 184, 209, 212, 223, 225, 248, 290, 316,
363.

WOTTON, SIR Henry (1568–1639), 116, 142.

ANONYMOUS, 10, 124, 181, 189, 196, 279, 283, 298, 303, 307, 318,
322, 329, 339, 359.

INDEX OF FIRST LINES

A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by
A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot!
A slumber did my spirit seal

A steed! a steed of matchless speed
A sweet disorder in the dress

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A wearied pilgrim I have wander'd here

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A weary lot is thine, fair maid

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A wet sheet and a flowing sea

A widow bird sat mourning for her love

A widow she had only one!

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Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase
About the sweet bag of a bee
Absence, hear thou this protestation
Adieu, adieu! my native shore
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever.
Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh
Ah, did you once see Shelley plain?
Ah, my Perilla! dost thou grieve to see
Ah, sweet, thou little knowest how
Ah, were she pitiful as she is fair

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's over, then does truth sound bitter

All that thou art not, makes not up the sum

All the breath and the bloom of the year
All the flowers of the spring

Although I enter not.

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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 a twig trembles, which a bird

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As I came round the harbour buoy
As I in hoary winter's night

As I was walking all alane.

As it fell upon a day

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As ships, becalm'd at eve, that lay
As slow our ship her foamy track

As thro' the land at eve we went

Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea
Ask me no more where Jove bestows.

Ask me why I send you here

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At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears
At the midnight in the silence of the sleep-time.
Avenge, O Lord! Thy slaughtered saints whose bones
Awake, my heart, to be loved, awake, awake!
Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!

Be not afraid to pray

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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.

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Behold her, single in the field

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Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy
Blow, blow, thou winter wind

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340

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Brave flowers

Break, break, break

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284

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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
Ca' the yowes to the knowes

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Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren
Can I not sin, but thou wilt be
Can I, who have for others oft compiled
Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night
Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes
Child of a day, thou knowest not
Close his eyes; his work is done

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

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Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas

Creep into thy narrow bed

Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud
Cupid and my Campaspe play'd.

Cyriack, this three years' day, these eyes, though clear

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Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days

De massa ob de sheepfol'

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Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

Death stands above me, whispering low
Deep on the convent-roof the snows

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Does the road wind up-hill all the way
Drink to me only with thine eyes
Drop, drop, slow tears.

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Duncan Gray cam here to woo
Earl March look'd on his dying child
Earth has not anything to show more fair
E'en like two little bank-dividing brooks
E'en such is time; that takes on trust
Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind
Ethereal minstrel ! pilgrim of the sky!
Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
Fair maiden! when I look at thee

Fair pledges of a fruitful tree

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Fame, like a wayward girl, will still be coy

Farewell if ever fondest prayer

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Fate! I have asked few things of thee

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353

Fear Death? - to feel the fog in my throat

347

Fear no more the heat o' the sun

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Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea

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Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes

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Flower in the crannied wall

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Foil'd by our fellow men, depress'd, outworn

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Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet

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Four Seasons fill the measure of the year
Full fathom five thy father lies

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Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand

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God of our fathers, known of old
Golden slumbers kiss your eyes
Good-bye, good-bye to Summer

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

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325

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