when I hear at sea, 445.

white and midnight sky! O starry bath!
475.

whither sail you, Sir John Franklin? 261.
white, white, light moon, that sailest in the
sky, 442.

O woman, let thy heart not cleave, 412.

O ye sweet heavens! your silence is to me, 241.
O ye who see with other eyes than ours, 667.

Pale beryl sky, with clouds, 535.

Pale, climbing disk, who dost lone vigil keep,
553.

Pallid with too much longing, 356.

People's Attorney, servant of the Right: 79.
Poet! I come to touch thy lance with mine,
124.

Poet of the Pulpit, whose full-chorded lyre, 78.
Poor Creature! nay, I'll not say poor, 765.
"Praise ye the Lord!" The psalm to-day,

450.

Pray for the dead - who bids thee not? 578.
Priest of God, unto thee I come, 479.
Prima cantante! 366.

Prince, and Bishop, and Knight, and Dame,
507.

Proud, languid lily of the sacred Nile, 578.
Puffed up with luring to her knees, 723.
Put every tiny robe away! 291.

Put them in print? 503.

Quiet as are the quiet skies, 694.

Read me no moral, priest, upon my life, 466.
"Read out the names!" and Burke sat back,

547.

Regent of song! who bringest to our shore, 244.
Reluctantly I laid aside my smiles, 769.
Repent, O ye, predestinate to woe! 507.
Restless, to-night, and ill at ease, 346.
Rockaby, lullaby, bees in the clover! 588.
Rocked in the cradle of the deep, 29.
Roll out, O song to God! 469.

Roman and Jew upon one level lie, 468.
Romancer, far more coy than that coy sex! 78.
Room for a soldier! lay him in the clover, 238.
Roses and butterflies snared on a fan, 356.
Rough pasture where the blackberries grow!
727.

Round among the quiet graves, 358.
Round de meadows am a-ringing, 289.
Runs the wind along the waste, 585.

Sadly as some old medieval knight, 126.
Said Life to Death: Methinks, if I were you,

615.

See, from this counterfeit of him, 237.
Seek not, Leuconöe, to know how long you 're
going to live yet, 531.

See, yonder, the belfry tower, 651.
Seraglio of the Sultan Bee! 651.

Serene, I fold my hands and wait, 464.
Serene, vast head, with silver cloud of hair, 655.
Sez Corporal Madden to Private McFadden,
764.

Shakespeare and Milton- what third blazoned
name, 381.

Shall we meet no more, my love, at the binding
of the sheaves, 323.

She came among the gathering crowd, 182.
She came and stood in the Old South Church,

140.

She came and went as comes and goes, 581.
She comes like the hush and beauty of the
night, 542.
She comes

the spirit of the dance! 169.
She dances, 535.

She died, this was the way she died, 322.
She dreams of Love upon the temple stair, 689.
She felt, I think, but as a wild-flower can, 377.
"She has gone to be with the angels," 286.
She knew that she was growing blind, 198.
She leaned her cheek upon her hand, 517.
She lives in light, not shadow, 477.

She might have known it in the earlier Spring,

599.

Shepherd, wilt thou take counsel of the bird,
508.

She roves through shadowy solitudes, 630.
She sees her image in the glass, 356.
She's had a Vassar education, 589.
She sits within the white oak hall, 731.
She's loveliest of the festal throng, 319.
She told the story, and the whole world wept,
737.

She wanders up and down the main, 602.
She was a beauty in the days, 597.

She was so little little in her grave, 575.
Shut in from all the world without, 137.

Sigh not for love, - the ways of love are dark!
754.

Silence and Solitude may hint, 236.

Silence instead of thy sweet song, my bird, 163.
Silence was envious of the only voice, 549.
Silent amidst unbroken silence deep, 535.

Since Cleopatra died!" Long years are past,
269.

Since o'er thy footstool here below, 75.
Sing me a sweet, low song of night, 744.
Sin-satiate, and haggard with despair, 627.
'Skeeters am a hummin' on de honeysuckle

vine, 681.

Skin creamy as the furled magnolia bud, 751.
Skirting the river road (my forenoon walk, my
rest), 230.

Sleep, love, sleep! 183.

Sleep, Motley, with the great of ancient days,

67.

Sleep, sleep, sleep, 261.

Sleep sweetly in your humble graves, 317.
Slow, groping giant, whose unsteady limbs, 690.
Slowly by God's hand unfurled, 90.

Snare me the soul of a dragon-fly, 739.

Snatch the departing mood, 611.
So all day long I followed through the fields,

772.

Soe, Mistress Anne, faire neighbour myne, 336.
So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn, 129.
Softer than silence, stiller than still air, 268.
Softly! 197.

Softly now the light of day, 76.

Soft on the sunset sky, 701.

Soft-sandalled twilight, handmaid of the night,
581.

Soft-throated South, breathing of summer's
ease, 537.

So happy were Columbia's eight, 768.

Sole Lord of Lords and very King of Kings, 497.
Solemnly, mournfully, 116.

So Love is dead that has been quick so long!
357.

Some space beyond the garden close, 552.
Some tell us 't is a burnin' shame, 454.
Something more than the lilt of the strain, 360.
Sometime, it may be, you and I, 724.
Some time there ben a lyttel boy, 528.
Sometime, when after spirited debate, 386.
Sometimes, when Nature falls asleep, 613.
Somewhat apart from the village, and nearer
the Basin of Minas, 116.

Somewhere in desolate wind-swept space,
Sorrow, my friend, 540.

380.

So that soldierly legend is still on its journey,
335.

So then, at last, let me awake this sleep, 685.
So, the powder's low, and the larder's clean,
643.

Soul of a tree ungrown, new life out of God's
life proceeding, 629.

Soul, wherefore fret thee? Striving still to
throw, 492.

Southrons, hear your country call you! 165.
Sparkling and bright in liquid light, 110.
Speak! speak! thou fearful guest! 112.
Speechless Sorrow sat with me, 348.

Spring came with tiny lances thrusting, 600.
Spirit of fire and dew," 672.
Spirits of Sleep, 706.

Spirit of song, whose shining wings have borne,
628.

Spirit that breathest through my lattice, thou,

Star-dust and vaporous light, 478.

Star of the North! though night winds drift, 33.
Stars of the summer night! 115.

Stern be the pilot in the dreadful hour, 350.
Still as I move thou movest, 601.

Still sits the school-house by the road, 139.
Still thirteen years: 'tis autumn now, 216.
Still though the one I sing, 221.

Stop on the Appian Way, 259.

Strain, strain thine eyes, this parting is for aye!
028.

Strong in thy stedfast purpose, be, 353.
St. Stephen's cloistered hall was proud, 47.
Such hints as untaught Nature yields! 727.
Such is the death the soldier dies, 532.

Sweet Robin, I have heard them say, 76.
Sweet saint! whose rising dawned upon the
sight, 326.

Sweet, sweet, sweet, 557.

Sweet wooded way in life, forgetful Sleep! 566.
Sweet World, if you will hear me now, 377.
Swept by the hot wind, stark, untrackable, 619.
Swift across the palace floor, 347.

Swift o'er the sunny grass, 394.

Swift, through some trap mine eyes have never
found, 437.

Swords crossed, — but not in strife! 86.

Tell Youth to play with Wine and Love, 752.
Thank God that God shall judge my soul, not
man! 720.

Thanksgiving to the gods! 603.

That face which no man ever saw, 381.
That night I think that no one slept, 604.
That sovereign thought obscured? That vision
clear, 338.

That such have died enables us, 322.

That which shall last for aye can have no birth,
571.

That year? Yes, doubtless I remember still,
337.

The Actor's dead, and memory alone, 599.
The Angel came by night, 285.

The autumn seems to cry for thee, 491.
The autumn time is with us. Its approach, 143.
The banquet-cups, of many a hue and shape, 72.
The bar is crossed; but Death-the pilot-
stands, 490.

The bearded grass waves in the summer breeze,
630.

The Beautiful, which mocked his fond pursu
ing, 364.

The beauty of the northern dawns, 396.

The bees in the clover are making honey, and I
am making my hay, 349.

The birds have hid, the winds are low, 515.
The birds their love-notes warble, 23.
The blackcaps pipe among the reeds, 699.
The brave young city by the Balboa seas, 429.
The bright sea washed beneath her feet, 347.
The cactus towers, straight and tall, 695.
The cold blast at the casement beats, 177.
The colonel rode by his picket-line, 386.
The countless stars, which to our human eye,
411.

The crocuses in the Square, 646.

The cypress swamp around me wraps its spell,

330.

The day is ended. Ere I sink to sleep, 348.
The day unfolds like a lotus bloom, 739.
The despots' heel is on thy shore, 400.

The dew is on the heather, 577.

The dirge is sung, the ritual said, 373.
The dragon-fly and I together, 463.

The ducats take! I'll sign the bond to-day,"

583.

The eagle, did ye see him fall? 432.
The eagle of the armies of the West, 516.
The earth seems a desolate mother, 342.
Thee finds me in the garden, Hannah,
in! 'Tis kind of thee, 273.

come

The fair Pamela came to town, 555.
The faithful helm commands the keel, 480.
The fields were silent, and the woodland drear,
486.

The fifth from the north wall, 378.
The fire upon the hearth is low, 527.
The flying sea-bird mocked the floating dulse,
603.

The folk who lived in Shakespeare's day, 381.
The fresh, bright bloom of the daffodils, 555.
The garden beds I wandered by, 663.
The garden within was shaded, 643.
The general dashed along the road, 431.
The ghosts of flowers went sailing, 486.
The goblin marked his monarch well, 43.
The golden-robin came to build his nest, 416.
The grandeur of this earthly round, 8.
The grass hung wet on Rydal banks, 181.
The grass of fifty Aprils hath waved green,

518.

The gray waves rock against the gray sky-line,
694.

The great Republic goes to war, 740.
The Great Sword Bearer only knows, 753.
The Grecian Muse, to earth who bore, 260.
The groves were God's first temples. Ere man
learned, 55.

The half-world's width divides us; where she
sits, 378.

The handful here, that once was Mary's earth,
238.

The hand that swept the sounding lyre, 170.
The heart soars up like a bird, 722.
The heavy mists have crept away, 670.

The heavens are our riddle; and the sea, 721.
The hound was cuffed, the hound was kicked,
434.

The hours I spent with thee, dear heart, 691.
The hunt is up, the hunt is up, 712.

The imperial boy had fallen in his pride, 567.
The innocent, sweet Day is dead, 434.
Their noonday never knows, 490.

The knell that dooms the voiceless and obscure,
535.

The knightliest of the knightly race, 253.
The life of man, 286.

The light of spring, 730.

The light that fills thy house at morn, 175.
The little gate was reached at last, 216.
The little toy dog is covered with dust, 528.
The long, gray moss that softly swings, 669.
The love of man and woman is as fire, 499.
The man in righteousness arrayed, 13.
The man that joins in life's career, 5.
The man who frets at worldly strife, 47.
The May sun sheds an amber light, 63.

The melancholy days are come, the saddest of
the year, 57.

The mighty soul that is ambition's mate, 570.
The mill goes toiling slowly around, 527.
The monarch sat on his judgment-seat, 42.

The moonbeams over Arno's vale in silver flood
were pouring, 546.

The moon has left the sky, 675.

The morning is cheery, my boys, arouse! 457.
The morns are meeker than they were, 321.
The mother-heart doth yearn at even-tide, 673.
The muffled drum's sad roll has beat, 248.
The Muses wrapped in mysteries of light, 542.
The name thou wearest does thee grievous
wrong, 634.

The new moon hung in the sky, 383.

The news! our morning, noon, and evening cry,

50.

The poet's secret I must know, 257.
The promise of these fragrant flowers, 502.
The Puritan Spring Beauties stood freshly clad
for church, 644.

The quarry whence thy form majestic sprung,
190.

The Queen sat in her balcony, 342.
The rainbow on the ocean, 592.

"There are gains for all our losses," 285.
There are gains for all our losses, 281.
There are harps that complain to the presence
of night, 52.

There are one or two things I should just like
to hint, 205.

There are some quiet ways, 426.

'There, as she sewed, came floating through her
head, 702.

There be many kinds of parting—yes, I know,
715.

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 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, 136
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,

lips! 481.

guns, hearts, and

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.