O world,

P. Cary,
Albey,
Shakespeare,
K. P. Osgood,

E. B. Browning,

O ye tears! O ye tears! that have long refused to flow, Mackay,

O ye uncrowned but kingly kings, .

O youth of the world,

Pack clouds away, and welcome day,

Paddy McCabe was dying one day,

Pain and pleasure both decay,

Pain is no longer pain when it is past,

Pardon the faults in me,

Passionate, stormy ocean,

Passions are likened best to floods,

Pause not to dream of the future before us,

Perplext in faith, but pure in deeds,

Persia! time-honored land! who looks on thee,
Pleasures lie thickest where no pleasures seem:
Poet, whose sunny span of fruitful years, .
Poor lone Hannah,

Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
Poor, withered face, that yet was once so fair,
Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, .

Aiken,

A. Fields,

Michell,

370

801

807

Larcom,

329

Shakespeare,

489

G. P. Lathrop,

336

Restless forms of living light,
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
Rivers that roll most musical in song,

Sacred and secret hand!

Sad is our youth, for it is ever going,
Sad is the thought of sunniest days,
Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,
Sauntering hither on listless wings,
Say over again and yet once over again,
Say, why are beanties praised and honored most,
Say why was man so eminently raised, .
Say, ye opprest by some fantastic woes,

Scarce had the earliest ray from Chinon's towers,
Scorn not the sonnet. Critic, you have frowned,
Sea-king's daughter from over the sea,.
Seated one day at the organ, .

See how the orient dew..

Seek not to walk by borrowed light,

See you yonder castle stately?

Send down Thy winged angel, God!

September waves his golden-rod,

Serve God and be cheerful. The motto,.

Seven women loved him. When the wrinkled pall,

She did not sigh for death, nor make sad moan,

She dwelt among the untrodden ways,

She had lost many children now,

"She is dead!" they said to him,

She was a phantom of delight,

Slayer of winter, art thou here again?

Wordsworth,

674

E. B. Browning.

67

S. M. B. Piatt,

420

Pope,
Keble,
Drayton,
Hageman,
Curtis,

765

316

198

247

181

Sleep, babe, the honeyed sleep of innocence
Sleeping, I dreamed that thou wast mine,.
Sleep on, my love, in thy cold bed,
Sleep, sleep to-day, tormenting cares,
Sleep sweetly in your humble graves,

Slowly I circle the dim, dizzy stair,

Slowly thy flowing tide,.

Slow toiling upward from the misty vale,

Small was thy share of all this world's delight,

Smiles on past Misfortune's brow,.

So close we are, and yet so far apart,

So fair the sun rose yestermorn.

Soft, brown, smiling eyes..

Softly woo away her breath,

Soft on the sunset sky,

Some men employ their health, an ugly trick,
Some sigh for this and that,

Something so human hearted,

Sometime, when all life's lessons have been learned,
Somewhere on this earthly planet,

Somewhere-somewhere a happy clime there is,
Somewhere 'tis told that in an Eastern land,
So prone our hearts to whisper what we wish,
Soul of my soul impart,

Sound asleep! no sigh can reach,

Speak tenderly! "For he is dead," we say,
Spinner of the silken snare,

Spirit that breathest through my lattice, thou,
Stand, thou great bulwark of man's liberty!
Stand up, erect! Thou hast the form,
Stay, stay at home, my heart, and rest,.
Stay wherever you will,

Stay yet a little longer in the sky,

Still I behold him, every thought employed,

Still sits the school-house by the road,

Still to be neat, still to be drest,

Stoop to my window, thou beautiful dove!

Strive not to say the whole! the poet in his art,
Strive: yet I do not promise,

Strong Son of God, iminortal Love,

Sum up at night, what thou hast done by day;
Sun of the moral world! effulgent source,
Sun of the sleepless! melancholy star!
Sunshine and silence on the Col de Balm!
Suppose the dreaded messenger of death,
Supreme, all-wise, eternal Potentate!
Supreme among a race of gods he stands,
Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
Sweeter than voices in the scented hay,
Sweetest, sweetest Heliotrope!.
Sweet falsehoods, fare ye well!.
Sweet is the scene when virtue dies,

Sweet sylvan lake, in memory's gold,

Jennison,

832

Prior,

439

W. W. Gay,

820

Tennyson,

578

Herbert,.

265

Bourdillon,

51

Tell the fainting soul in the weary form,
Tender-handed stroke a nettle,
That precious, priceless gift, a soul,
That season which all other men regret,
That son of Italy who tried to blow,
That which her slender waist confined,
The age is gone o'er, .

The angels come, the angels

go,

The angels kiss her while she sleeps,
The apples are ripe in the orchard,
The artist who this idol wrought,

The banker, well known,

The bard has sung, God never formed a soul,

The beautiful color-the color of gold!

The beast was sturdy, large, and tall,

The bird, let loose in eastern skies,

Hill,
Symonds,
Simms,
M. Arnold,
Waller,

the holy vow,

The birds are mute, the bloom is fled,
The blessed damozel leaned out,

The blessings which the weak and poor can scatter,
The blind at an easel, the palsied with a graver,
The branches arch and shape a pleasant bower,
The breaking waves dashed higli,.

The bubbling brook doth leap when I come by,
The castled crag of Drachenfels,

The chamber where the good man meets his fate,
The chrysalid with rapture stirs ; .
The circle formed, we sit in silent state,
The conference-meeting through at last,
The crimson sunset faded into gray,

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The curtain of the dark,

The day and night are symbols of creation,
The day is quenched, and the sun is fled,
The dead leaves, their rich mosaics, .
The doors are all wide open; at the gate,
The dove did lend me wings,

The eagle nestles near the sun!

The emphatic speaker dearly loves to oppose,
The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,

The fateful hour, when death stood by,
The fisherman wades in the surges; .

The fountains mingle with the river,
The fresh May morning's earliest light,
The frugal snail with forecast of repose,

The garlands fade that Spring so lately wove,
The glories of our birth and state,

The grave but ends the struggle!

The hand that wore thee smooth is cold,

The harp at Nature's advent, strung,

The heart, they say, is wiser than the schools

The honey-bee that wanders all day long,.

The hours on the old piazza,.

The human heart cannot sustain,

Their preciousness in absence is proved,
The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!

The kindly words that rise within the heart,
The little gate was reached at last,
The lost days of my life until to-day,
The loving poor! So envy calls,

The maid who binds her warrior's sash,
The matron at her mirror,

The mellow year is hasting to its close;
The midges dance aboon the burn;
The more we live, more brief appear,
The Moth's kiss, first!

Then before all they stand,

Then gently sean your brother man, .
Then, lo! the sainted Monitor is born,

Burns,

85

Crabbe,

717

J. G. Whittier,

646

Landor..

328

R. B. Lytton,

735

Corper,

157

T. S. Collier,.

143

Shakespeare,

486

T. B. Aldrich,

11

A. Norton,

396

Hayne,
Mann,

There are a number of us creep,

There are gains for all our losses,

There came a breath, out of a distant time,
There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin,

There is a beauty of the reason,

There is a land, of every land the pride,
There is a land of pure delight,.

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,

There is a room, a stately room,

There is but one thing that still harks me back,

There is May in books forever:.

There is no comfort underneath the sun,

There is no day so dark,

"There is no God," the foolish saith,

There is no laughter in the natural world,

There is no remedy for time misspent ;

There is nothing new under the sun;

There'll come a day when the supremest splendor,

There's a good time coming, boys,.

There's a story that's old,.

There's never an always cloudless sky,

There's no dew left on the daisies and clover,

There was a little, very little,

There was a sound of revelry by night,

There was a time when death and 1, .

There was once a gentle time,

There were three sailors of Bristol City,

The rich man's son inherits lands,

The robin sings in the elm;

The roof of thickest covert,

The room is swept and garnished for thy sake,

The school's lone porch, with reverend inosses gray,

The sea goes up, the sky comes down,

The sea is flecked with bars of gray, .

The seas are quiet, when the winds give o'er,

The sea! the sea! the open sea!

The self of so long ago, .

These words the poet heard in Paradise,

The shadows lay along Broadway,.

The skies are blue above my head,

The sky is laced with fitful red,.

The silver trumpets rang across the dome ;

The soul hath its feelers, cobwebs floating on the wind,

The speckled sky is dim with snow,

The splendor falls on castle walls,

The storm-wind moans through branches bare.;