There came to port last Sunday night, 589.
The red rose whispers of passion, 481.
There in his room, whene'er the moon looks in,
664.

There is a clouded city, gone to rest, 584.
There is a city, builded by no hand, 241.
There is an hour of peaceful rest, 87.
There is a race from eld descent, 771.
There is a sound I would not hear, 686.
There is but one great sorrow, 281.

There is Lowell, who's striving Parnassus to
climb, 205.

There is no rhyme that is half so sweet, 708.
There is no dearer lover of lost hours, 313.
There! little girl, don't cry! 560..
There's a song in the air! 235.
There's beauty in the deep, 75.

There smiled the smooth Divine, unused to
wound, 9.

There's not a breath the dewy leaves to stir,
169.

There's something in a noble boy, 105.

There stood an unsold captive in the mart,
102.

There was a captain-general who ruled in Vera
Cruz, 269.

There was a gay maiden lived down by the mill,
263.

There was a land where lived no violets, 734.
There was a man who watched the river flow,
519.

There was a rose-tree grew so high, 761.
There was a rover from a western shore, 573.
There was a time when Death and I, 364.
The rising moon has hid the stars, 114.
The river widens to a pathless sea, 645.
The road is left that once was trod, 174.

The robin chants when the thrush is dumb,
536.

The Rose aloft in sunny air, 350.

The roses of yester year, 678.

The royal feast was done; the King, 419.
The ruddy poppies bend and bow, 753.

The Saviour, bowed beneath his cross, climbed
up the dreary hill, 402.

The scarlet tide of summer's life, 305.

The sea-bound landsman, looking back to shore,
653.

These are my scales to weigh reality, 714.

The sea tells something, but it tells not all,
330.

These lands are clothed in burning weather,
735.

These pearls of thought in Persian gulfs were
bred, 215.

The shadows lay along Broadway, 105.

The shapes that frowned before the eyes, 79.
The skies are low, the winds are slow, 447.
The skies they were ashen and sober, 151.
The skilful listener, he, methinks, may hear,

516.

The sky is a drinking-cup, 281.

The sky is low, the clouds are mean, 321.

The smooth-worn coin and threadbare classic
phrase, 383.

The snow had begun in the gloaming, 215.
The song-birds? are they flown away? 711.
The soul of the world is abroad to-night, 621.
The south-wind brings, 97.

The sparrow told it to the robin, 588.
The speckled sky is dim with snow, 294.
The spinner twisted her slender thread, 448.
The Spirit of Earth with still, restoring hands,

542.

The spring came earlier on, 415.

The star must cease to burn with its own light,

412.

The stars know a secret, 420.

The sudden thrust of speech is no mean test,
696.

The sun comes up and the sun goes down, 275.
The Sun, departing, kissed the summer Sky,
763.

The sun had set, 538.

The sun has kissed the violet sea, 433.
The sun is sinking over hill and sea, 615.
The Sun looked from his everlasting skies, 700.
The sun set, but set not his hope, 94.
The sunshine of thine eyes, 537.

The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home,
288.

The swallow is flying over, 187.
The tide rises, the tide falls, 125.

The tide slips up the silver sand, 557.
The time is come to speak, I think, 699.
The town of Hay is far away, 676.

The trembling train clings to the leaning wall,
692.

The trump hath blown, 89.

The turtle on yon withered bough, 3.
The twilight hours like birds flew by, 296.
The vicomte is wearing a brow of gloom, 201.
The village sleeps, a name unknown, till men,
708.

The voice of England is a trumpet tone, 613.
The wakening bugles cut the night, 751.

The wars we wage, 726.

The water sings along our keel, 693.
The waves forever move, 489.

The wayfarer, 734.

The weather-leach of the topsail shivers, 302.
The whelp that nipped its mother's dug in turn-
ing from her breast, 483.

The wilderness a secret keeps, 505.

The wild geese, flying in the night, behold, 426.
The Willis are out to-night, 462.

The wind blows wild on Bos'n Hill, 332.
The wind exultant swept, 702.

The winds have talked with him confidingly
564.

The wind of Hampstead Heath still burns my
cheek, 573.

The wintry blast goes wailing by, 421.
The wise forget, dear heart, 767.

The word of God to Leyden came, 295.

The wreath that star-crowned Shelley gave, 156.
They are all gone away, 729.

They are my laddie's hounds, 471.
They are slaves who fear to speak, 203.
They cannot wholly pass away, 489.

They chained her fair young body to the cold
and cruel stone, 498.

They dropped like flakes, they dropped like
stars, 322.

The Year had all the Days in charge, 587.
They had brought in such sheafs of hair, 712.
They made them ready and we saw them go,
708.

They glare-those stony eyes! 247.

They rise to mastery of wind and snow, 654.
They rode from the camp at morn, 658.

They say that, afar in the land of the west,
89.

They tell me, Liberty! that in thy name, 102.
They tell me that I must not love, 195.

They tell you that Death's at the turn of the
road, 637.

They wait all day unseen by us, unfelt, 393.
They who create rob death of half its stings,
496.

Thine is the mystic melody, 755.

Thine old-world eyes- each one a violet, 504.
This ancient silver bowl of mine, it tells of good
old times, 155.

This bears the seal of immortality, 400.
This book is all that's left me now! 83.

This bronze doth keep the very form and
mould, 475.

This, Children, is the famed Mon-goos, 698.
This drop of ink chance leaves upon my pen,
676.

This gentle and half melancholy breeze, 613.
This is a breath of summer wind, 598.

This is Palm Sunday: mindful of the day, 239.
This is the end of the book, 687.
This is the loggia Browning loved, 551.
This is the pathway where she walked, 266.
This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign,
158.

This is the song of the wave! The mighty one!
743.

This is the way the baby slept, 561.

This realm is sacred to the silent past, 328.
This the true sign of ruin to a race, 107.

This was the man God gave us when the hour,
652.

This was your butterfly, you see, 374.

This world was not, 585.

Those days we spent on Lebanon, 377.
Those earlier men that owned our earth, 180.
Those were good times, in olden days, 485.
"Thou art a fool," said my head to my heart,
737.

Thou art as a lone watcher on a rock, 543.
Thou art lost to me forever! - I have lost thee,
Isadore! 164.

Thou art mine, thou hast given thy word, 333.
Thou art my very own, 759.

Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, 59.
Thou, born to sip the lake or spring, 7.
Thou dancer of two thousand years, 689.
Thou ever young! Persephone but gazes, 566.
Thou foolish blossom, all untimely blown! 750.
Thou for whose birth the whole creation yearned,
417.

Though gifts like thine the fates gave not to
me, 379.

Thou tall, majestic monarch of the wood, 762.
Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! 119.
Thou unrelenting Past! 57.

Thou wast all that to me, love, 147.

Thou, who didst lay all other bosoms bare, 543.
Thou who hast slept all night upon the storm,
230.

Thou who ordainest, for the land's salvation,
361.
Thou, whose endearing hand once laid in
sooth, 339.

Thou, who wouldst wear the name, 64.
Three horsemen galloped the dusty way, 534.
Three steps and I reach the door, 565.
Through his million veins are poured, 394.
Through love to light! Oh wonderful the way,
478.

Through my open window comes the sweet per-
fuming, 767.

Throughout the soft and sunlit day, 707.
Through some strange sense of sight or touch,
709.

Through storms you reach them and from

storms are free, 237.

Through the fierce fever I nursed him, and then
he said, 579.

Through the night, through the night, 280.
Thunder our thanks to her guns, hearts, and
lips! 481.

Thy cruise is over now, 75.

Thy face I have seen as one seeth, 694.
Thy laugh's a song an oriole trilled, 534.
Thy one white leaf is open to the sky, 612.
Thy span of life was all too short, 693.
Thy trivial harp will never please, 94.
Time cannot age thy sinews, nor the gale, 446.
Time has no flight 't is we who speed along,

467.

Tinged with the blood of Aztec lands, 361.
'Tis but a little faded flower, 300.

'Tis of a gallant Yankee ship that flew the
stripes and stars, 8.

'Tis said that absence conquers love, 196.
"Tis said that the gods on Olympus of old, 111.
"Tis something from that tangle to have won,
653.

'Tis the blithest, bonniest weather for a bird to
flirt a feather, 647.

'Tis to yourself I speak; you cannot know,
174.

'Tis true, one half of woman's life is hope, 330.
To-day, dear heart, but just to-day, 712.

To eastward ringing, to westward winging, o'er
mapless miles of sea, 741.

To him who in the love of Nature holds, 53.
Toil on, poor muser, to attain that goal, 523.
To kiss my Celia's fairer breast, 28.
To me the earth once seemed to be, 368.
To put new shingles on old roofs, 608.

To spring belongs the violet, and the blown,
385.

Tossing his mane of snows in wildest eddies and
tangles, 386.

To stand within a gently gliding boat, 632.
To the brave all homage render, 265.

To the quick brow Fame grudges her best
wreath, 351.

To the sea-shells' spiral round, 379,
To tremble, when I touch her hands, 591.
To what new fates, my country, far, 704.
To you, whose temperate pulses flow, 502.
Trembling before thine awful throne, 86.
True love's own talisman, which here, 666.
Turning from Shelley's sculptured face aside,
654.

Turn out more ale, turn up the light, 342.
Turn with me from the city's clamorous street,
582.

Tuscan, that wanderest through the realms of
gloom, 115.

'T was one of the charmed days, 95.

'T was summer, and the spot a cool retreat, 168.
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all
through the house, 15.

Two angels came through the gate of Heaven,
524.

Two armies covered hill and plain, 264.
Two loves had I. Now both are dead, 464.
Two shall be born the whole wide world apart,
636.

Two things there are with Memory will abide,
384.

Tying her bonnet under her chin, 424.

Unconquerably, men venture on the quest, 647.
Under a spreading chestnut-tree, 114.
Under a sultry, yellow sky, 259.
Under a toadstool, 698.

Under the apple bough, 537.

Under the roots of the roses, 285.
Under the shadows of a cliff, 670.

Under the slanting light of the yellow sun of
October, 368.

Under the violets, blue and sweet, 198.
Unflinching Dante of a later day, 545.
Unhappy dreamer, who outwinged in flight,
761.

Unnoted as the setting of a star, 141.
Unmoored, unmanned, unheeded on the deep,
361.

Untrammelled Giant of the West, 773.
Unwarmed by any sunset light, 137.
Up, Fairy! quit thy chick-weed bower, 44.
Upon a cloud among the stars we stood, 498.
Upon my bier no garlands lay, 463.

Upon my mantel-piece they stand, 743.
Upon Nirwána's brink the ráhat stood, 718.
Us two wuz boys when we fell out, 529.

Vengeful across the cold November moors, 728.
Venus has lit her silver lamp, 692.
Very dark the autumn sky, 697.

Wake, Israel, wake! Recall to-day, 519.
Wake not, but hear me, love! 678.
Wall, no! I can't tell whar he lives, 396.
Warm, wild, rainy wind, blowing fitfully, 370.
Was there another Spring than this? 754.
Was this his face, and these the finding eyes.
594.

Water-lilies in myriads rocked on the slight
undulations, 117.

Way down upon de Swanee Ribber, 288.
Weak-winged is song, 209.

We are but two- the others sleep, 51.
We are ghost-ridden, 639.

We are our fathers' sons: let those who lead us
know! 726.

We are the Ancient People, 398.

We are two travellers, Roger and I, 292.
Weary at heart with winter yesterday, 518.
Weary, weary, desolate, 549.

Weave no more silks, ye Lyons looms, 221.
We break the glass, whose sacred wine, 81.
We count the broken lyres that rest, 157.
We follow where the Swamp Fox guides, 106.
We gazed on Corryvrekin's whirl, 184.
We had been long in mountain snow, 656.
We have sent him seeds of the melon's core,
710.

We know not what it is, dear, this sleep so
deep and still, 392.

We lay us down to sleep, 357.

Well, yes, sir, that am a comical name, 55.
We must be nobler for our dead, be sure, 534.
Were but my spirit loosed upon the air, 357.
Were I a happy bird, 448.

Were I transported to some distant star, 672.
We sailed and sailed upon the desert sea, 387.
We sail toward evening's lonely star, 370.
We, sighing, said, "Our Pan is dead," 465.
We summoned not the Silent Guest, 499.
We took it to the woods, we two, 393.
We were boys together, 82.

We were not many - we who stood, 110.
We were ordered to Samoa from the coast of
Panama, 729.

We were twin brothers, tall and hale, 485.
We wondered why he always turned aside, 487.
We wreathed about our darling's head, 250.
What are the long waves singing so mournfully
evermore? 300.

What, are you hurt, Sweet? So am I, 521.
What bird is that, with voice so sweet, 485.
What bring ye me, O camels, across the south-
ern desert, 746,

What can console for a dead world? 411.
What, can these dead bones live, whose sap is
dried, 520.

What care I, what cares he, 452.

What charlatans in this later day, 751.
What, comrade of a night, 626.

What has become of the good ship Kite, 757.
What if the Soul her real life elsewhere holds,
574.

What is a sonnet? 'Tis the pearly shell, 476.
"What is it to be dead?" O Life, 582.
What is the little one thinking about? 234.
What is there wanting in the Spring? 550.
What man is there so bold that he should say,
395.

What! Roses on thy tomb! and was there
then, 674.

What seek'st thou at this madman's pace? 606.
What shall her silence keep, 711.

What shall we do now, Mary being dead, 238.
What shall we mourn? For the prostrate tree
that sheltered the young greenwood? 480.
What's love, when the most is said? The flash
of the lightning fleet, 449.

What songs found voice upon those lips, 495.
What's the brightness of a brow? 354.

What strength! what strife! what rude unrest!
427.

What then, what if my lips do burn, 510.
What though the green leaf grow? 566.

What time the earth takes on the garb of
Spring, 627.

What was my dream? Though consciousness
be clear, 430.

What, what, what, 473.`

What will you give to a barefoot lass, 648.

What wondrous sermons these seas preach to
men! 736.

When almond buds unclose, 629.

When April rains make flowers bloom, 544.
When calm is the night, and the stars shine
bright, 15.

Whence come ye, Cherubs? from the moon? 22.
Whence, O fragrant form of light, 489.
When cherry flowers begin to blow, 739.
When Darby saw the setting sun, 11.

When Dorothy and I took tea, we sat upon the
floor, 625.

When dreaming kings, at odds with swift-paced
time, 660.

Whenever a little child is born, 587.
Whenever a snowflake leaves the sky, 587.
When first I looked into thy glorious eyes, 101.
When first I saw her, at the stroke, 590,

When Freedom from her mountain height, 46.
When from the gloom of earth we see the sky,
413.

When from the vaulted wonder of the sky, 443.
When I am standing on a mountain crest, 705.
When I consider Life and its few years, 610.
When I forth fare beyond this narrow earth,
541.

When I'm in health and asked to choose, 753.
When in my walks I meet some ruddy lad, 200.

When in the first great hour of sleep supreme,
576.

When in thy glass thou studiest thy face, 465.
When I was seventeen I heard, 503.
When I went up the minster tower, 653.
When late I heard the trembling cello play, 477.
When leaves turn outward to the light, 449.
When Love comes knocking at thy gate, 678.
When love in the faint heart trembles, 595.
When Love, our great Immortal, 591.
When Nature had made all her birds, 172.
When on my soul in nakedness, 572.

When our babe he goeth walking in his gar-
den, 527.

When Psyche's friend becomes her lover, 449.
When she comes home again! A thousand ways,
559.

When souls that have put off their mortal gear,
416.

When stars pursue their solemn flight, 354.
When sunshine met the wave, 662.
When the grass shall cover me, 494.
When the lessons and tasks are all ended, 471.
When the reaper's task was ended, and the
summer wearing late, 134.

When the rose is brightest, 106.
When the Sultan Shah-Zaman, 379.
When the veil from the eyes is lifted, 338.
When to soft sleep we give ourselves away, 383.
When tulips bloom in Union Square, 545.
When winds go organing through the pines, 710.
When winter's cold tempests and snows are no
more, 12.

When wintry days are dark and drear, 488.
When youth was lord of my unchallenged fate,
311.

Where all the winds were tranquil, 619.
Where ancient forests round us spread, 29.
Where broods the Absolute, 339.

Wherefore these revels that my dull eyes greet?
445.

Where Helen comes, as falls the dew, 718.
Where Helen sits, the darkness is so deep, 525.
Where Hudson's wave o'er silvery sands, 83.
Where in its old historic splendor stands, 755.
Where's he that died o' Wednesday? 336.
Where's Peace? I start, some clear-blown
night, 209.

Where now these mingled ruins lie, 5.

Where swell the songs thou shouldst have sung,
409.

Where the graves were many, we looked for
one, 376,

Where were ye, Birds, that bless his name, 490.
While I recline, 314.

While now the Pole Star sinks from sight, 236.
Whipp'will's singin' to de moon,

680.

White England shouldering from the sea, 644.
White sail upon the ocean verge, 372.
White sand and cedars; cedars, sand, 525.
Whither doth now this fellow flee? 763.
Whither leads this pathway, little one? 516.
Whither, midst falling dew, 54.
White wings of commerce sailing far, 442.
Who are ye, spirits, that stand, 501.
Who comes to England not to learn, 740.
Who drives the horses of the sun, 515.

Who has robbed the ocean cave, 14.
Who knows the thoughts of a child, 425.
Who'll have the crumpled pieces of a heart?
705.

"Whom the gods love die young; "-if gods
ye be, 708.

Who nearer Nature's life would truly come, 78.
Whose furthest footstep never strayed, 703.
Who tamed your lawless Tartar blood? 429.
Who will watch thee, little mound, 760.
Why, Death, what dost thou hear, 306.
Why dost thou hail with songful lips no more,

659.

Why should we waste and weep, 260.

Why thus longing, thus for ever sighing, 296.
Wide open and unguarded stand our gates, 380.
Wild is its nature, as it were a token, 340.
Wild Rose of Alloway! my thanks, 39.
Wild stream the clouds, and the fresh wind is
singing, 355.

Will there really be a morning? 587.
Wind of the City Streets, 599.

Wind of the North, 632.

With eyes hand-arched he looks into, 710.

With oaken staff and swinging lantern bright,

521.

With sails full set, the ship her anchor weighs,
324.

With saintly grace and reverent tread, 444.
With wrath-flushed cheeks, and eyelids red,

674.

Winged mimic of the woods! thou motley fool!
27.

Withdraw thee, soul, from strife, 627.

Within a poor man's squalid home I stood, 387.

Within his sober realm of leafless trees, 250.
Within me are two souls that pity each, 505.
Within my heart I long have kept, 635.
Within this lowly grave a Conqueror lies, 63.
Within this silent palace of the Night, 651.
Without him still this whirling earth, 608.
Woe for the brave ship Orient ! 178.
Woodman, spare that tree! 82.
Words, words, 745.

Wouldst know the artist? Then go seek, 668.
Would the lark sing the sweeter if he knew, 463.
Would you hear of the River-Fight? 245.
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night, 526.

Years have flown since I knew thee first, 475.

66

Yer know me little nipper," 764.

Yes, death is at the bottom of the cup, 387.

Yes, faith is a goodly anchor, 216.

Yes, he was that, or that, as you prefer, 444.
Yes, I have heard the nightingale, 476.
Yes, I know what you say, 420.

Ye smooth-faced sons of Jacob, hug close your
ingleside, 758.

Yes, still I love thee! Time, who sets, 195.
Yet, O my friend - pale conjurer, I call, 631.
Ye white Sicilian goats, who wander all, 770.
Yon clouds that roam the deserts of the air,
630.

You ask a verse, to sing (ah, laughing face!)
351.

You ax about dat music made, 748.

You gave me roses, love, last night, 582.
You may drink to your leman in gold, 281.
You know, my friends, with what a brave
carouse, 443.

Young to the end through sympathy with youth,
637.

Your heart is a music-box, dearest ! 170.
You sang me a song, 773.

You will come, my bird, Bonita? 430.
You who dread the cares and labors, 327.