The wintry west extends his blast The woods decay They made her a grave too cold and damp Think we King Harry strong. This army led by a delicate and tender prince'. This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air Thou hast learned the woes of all the world Thou that hast a daughter Thon that hast given so much to me. Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird! Thou whose sweet youth and early hopes enhance. Three days through sapphire seas we sailed Three poets in three distant ages born Three score o' nobles rade up the king's ha' Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back. 'Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more . 'Tis not every day that I Tis not in battles that from youth we train "Tis truth, although this truth's a star To be furious To beguile the time To be no more- sad cure To be or not to be, that is the question To fair Fidele's grassy tomb To heroism and holiness Toiling in the naked fields To keep the lamp alive To me men are for what they are Toll for the brave. JOHN CLARE 456 COWPER 182 MILNES 145 COWPER 463 Two went to pray-oh! rather say True bard and simple, as the race 'Twas All-Souls' eve, and Surrey's heart beat high Two voices are there; one is of the sea To the belfry one by one, went the ringers from the sun MRS. BROWNING - Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky 404 Underneath this sable hearse Underneath this stone doth lye. Under the greenwood tree Upon a rock yet uncreate Uvedale, the piece of the first times Vane, young in years, but in sage counsel old BEN JONSON SHAKSPEARE BEN JONSON 269 268 440 505 269 Wail for Daedalus, all that is fairest . Warriors and chiefs! should the shaft or sword BYRON 203 Wee, modest, crimson, tipped flower Wee, sleekit, cow'ring, timorous beastie. Well, honor is the subject of my story. BURNS BURNS SHAKSPEARE 279 278 203 We must not stint SHAKSPEARE 521 Westward the course of empire takes its way What needs my Shakspeare for his honored bones. BERKELEY 995 WORDSWORTHI 389 MILTON. 268 When biting Boreas, fell and doure. When first thou didst entice to thee my heart When I a verse shall make When I consider how my light is spent When I do count the clock that tells the time When I love as some have told When Love with uncontinèd wings When Music, heavenly maid, was young When spring to woods and wastes around When the British warrior queen When the radiant morn of creation broke When with the virgin morning thou dost rise. Where have ye been, ye ill woman?. Where is Timarchus gone? Where like a pillow on a bed Where the bee sucks, there suck I Where the remote Bermudas ride Which I wish to remark. While from the purpling east departs While malice, Pope, denies thy page Whither midst falling dew Who counts himself as nobly born Who can divine what impulses from God Who is the happy warrior Who is the honest man Whose are the gilded tents that crowd the way. Whoso him bethoft Why fearest thou the outward foe Willie stands in his stable door. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day Within my ears resounds that ancient song Within the mind strong fancies work With joys unknown, with sadness unconfessed. Ye banks and braes of bonnie Doon Ye scattered birds that faintly sing Yes, I answered you last night Ye sigh not when the sun his course fulfilled Yet a few days, and thee BYRON 128 457 212 512 Yet do I fear thy nature. Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more You lay a wreath on murdered Lincoln's bier MILTON TOM TAYLOR LADY ANNE LINDSAY You that can look through Heaven, and tell the stars BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. Your grace shall pardon me Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown LOWELL 363 378 207 155 494 |