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I am monarch of all I survey

I be the milkmaïd o' the farm

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers

I have two nights watched with you

I heard a thousand blended notes

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I knew a soft-eyed lady, from a noble foreign land
I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle daughter

I saw old Autumn in the misty morn

I say to thee, do thou repeat

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I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he

I think of thee, my sister

I wandered lonely as a cloud

I watched a rose-bud very long

I would build a cloudy house

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If by your art, my dearest father, you have .

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If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well
In a drear-nighted December

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It was many and many a year ago

It was when from Spain across the main

Jaffar, the Barmecide, the good Vizier
Joy is upon the lonely seas

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King of kings and Lord of lords!

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Lady! that in the prime of earliest youth

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Land of my birth, O Britain, land beloved

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Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom
Life! I know not what thou art

Lo! we bring with us the hero

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Lord cardinal, the king's further pleasure is
Lord when we seek thy throne of grace
Lord, with what care hast thou begirt us round!
Lullaby, oh lullaby!

Man is permitted much to scan, and learn
Me to my happy hymns of praise

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Meary Ann wer alwone, wi' her beäby in eärms

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Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour
Mistress, despatch you with your safest haste
Mortality, behold and fear

Mountain gorses, ever golden

Much have I travelled in the realms of gold

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My liege, I did deny no prisoners

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My lord, they say five moons were seen to-night.

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Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are 282

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O where have ye been, Lord Randal, my son?
O young Lochinvar is come out of the West!

O'er wayward childhood wouldst thou hold firm rule
Of all the thoughts of God that are

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Oh ask not, hope not, thou too much

Oh deem not they are blest alone

Oh many are the beauteous isles
Oh, pleasant eventide !

Oh righteous doom, that they who make.
Oh, to be in England.

Oh weary in the morning

One by one the sands are flowing

One more Unfortunate

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Patriots have toiled, and in their country's cause

Pibroch of Donuil Dhu

Poor Jenny wer her Robert's bride

Prune thou thy words, the thoughts control

Queen and huntress, chaste and fair

Rich and royal Italy

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Sabrina fair, listen where thou art sitting.
Saint Augustine! well hast thou said .
Say not, the struggle nought availeth
Say, what remains when hope is fled?
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
She doth tell me where to borrow
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
She stood breast high amid the corn
She walks in beauty, like the night.

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So on he fares, and to the border comes

So the foemen have fired the gate, men of mine
Some murmur when their sky is clear
Southward with fleet of ice.

Speak the speech, I pray you

Stern daughter of the Voice of God!

Stop, Mortal! here thy brother lies.

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Stranger! if e'er thy ardent step hath traced
Strong climber of the mountain's side
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright

Sweet echo, sweetest nymph! that liv'st unseen
Swiftly walk over the western wave

Tell me not in mournful numbers

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That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold

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That you have wronged me doth appear in this

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The butter an' the cheese weel stowit they be

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The hills all glowed with a festive light

The infant lies in blessed ease.

The king is come; deal mildly with his youth

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The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year

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The prayers I make will then be sweet indeed

The sea! the sea! the open sea

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The star that bids the shepherd fold

The stream was smooth as glass

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The sun hath ridden into the sky

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The sun rises bright in France

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The world is too much with us; late and soon

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There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin

There is a flower, the lesser celandine.

There was a sound of revelry by night

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream

These are thy glorious works, Parent of good

These beauteous forms

They glide upon their endless way

They met me in the day of success
They shot him on the Nine-Stane Rig
They sin who tell us love can die
They were affianced, a youthful pair
Thou happy, happy elf

Through Erin's isle

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Thy thrice noble cousin, Harry Bolingbroke
Time was I shrank from what was right
'Tis gone that bright and orbéd blaze
'Tis sweet to hear the merry lark

'Tis the midnight hour-the beauteous sea
To be, or not to be; that is the question

To do what service am I sent for hither?
To God, ye choir above, begin

To heroism and holiness.

To horse, to horse, Sir Nicholas ! the clarion's note is high
'Twas on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean

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Upon the hills the wind is sharp and cold

Violet! sweet violet ! .

We have two nights watched with you
We talked with open heart and tongue
We walked along while bright and red

We watched her breathing through the night
Weak is the will of man, his judgment blind
Wee, modest, crimson-tippéd flower
Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', timorous beastie

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