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John Anderson, my jo, John

Lament in rhyme, lament in prose

Lassie wi' the lint-white locks

Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen

Lavinia is polite, but not profane

Let Observation, with extensive view

Life is a jest, and all things show it
Little lamb, who made thee
Long had our dull forefathers slept supine

Lords, knights, and squires, the num'rous band

Love in fantastic triumph sate

Lovely, lasting peace of mind

Love still has something of the sea

Lo, where the rosy-bosomed Hours

Lo where the stripling, rapt in wonder, roves

Mindful of disaster past

My heart is a-breaking, dear Tittie

My loved, my honoured, much respected friend

Narcissus the Tartarian club disclaims

No, no, poor suff'ring heart, no change endeavour

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The boddynge flourettes bloshes atte the lyghte
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day

The daughters of the seraphim led round their sunny flocks

The diligence of trades, and noiseful gain

The door of Death is made of gold

The feathered songster chaunticleer

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Upon a simmer Sunday morn

Uprose the King of Men with speed

To all you ladies now at land

To fair Fidele's grassy tomb

Toll for the brave

To me, whom in their lays the shepherds call

Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune.

To see a world in a grain of sand.

Turn to the watery world! But who to thee

'T was at the royal feast for Persia won

T was in that place o' Scotland's isle

'T was on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean

T was on a lofty vase's side

T was when the seas were roaring

Twelve days were past, and now the dawning light

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When Cromwell fought for pow'r, and while he reigned
When Music, heav'nly maid, was young

While some affect the sun, and some the shade

Whom passed we musing near the woodman's shed

With horns and hounds I waken the day
Would I describe a preacher, such as Paul

Ye banks and braes and streams around
Ye distant spires, ye antique towers

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Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon.

Ye nymphs, if e'er your eyes were red
Ye wha are fain to hae your name

Yon ancient prude, whose withered features show
You twice ten hundred deities

PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.

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Works edited by WALTER C. BRONSON and published by the University of Chicago Press

ENGLISH POEMS

OLD ENGLISH AND MIDDLE
ENGLISH PERIODS

THE ELIZABETHAN AGE AND
THE PURITAN PERIOD

THE RESTORATION AND THE
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY

THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

AMERICAN PROSE
AMERICAN POEMS

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