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How happy is he born and taught
How like a winter hath my absence been
How sleep the brave who sink to rest
How sweet the answer Echo makes
How vainly men themselves amaze
I am monarch of all I survey

arise from dreams of Thee
I cannot change, as others do
I dream'd that as I wander'd by the way
I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden
I have had playmates, I have had companions
I have no name
I heard a thousand blended notes
I meet thy pensive, moonlight face
I met a traveller from an antique land
I remember, I remember
I saw Eternity the other night
I saw her in childhood
I saw my lady weep
I saw where in the shroud did lurk
I travell’d among unknown men
I wander'd lonely as a cloud
I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile
I wish I were where Helen lies
If aught of oaten stop or pastoral song
If doughty deeds my lady please
If I had thought thou couldst have died
If Thou survive my well-contented day
If to be absent were to be
I'm wearing awa', Jean
In a drear-nighted December
In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining
In the sweet shire of Cardigan
In this still place, remote from men
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free
It is not growing like a tree
It was a dismal and a fearful night
It was a lover and his lass
It was a summer evening
I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking
Jack and Joan, they think no ill
John Anderson my jo, John
Lady, when I behold the roses sprouting
Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Life! I know not what thou art
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore
Like to the clear in highest sphere
Love in my bosom, like a bee
Love in thy youth, fair Maid, be wise
Love not me for comely grace
Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours

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Many a green isle needs must be
Mary! I want a lyre with other strings
Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour
Mine be a cot beside the hill
Mortality, behold and fear
Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes
Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold
Music, when soft voices die
My days among the Dead are past
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My heart leaps up when I behold
My Love in her attire doth shew her wit
My lute, beras thou wert when thou didst grow
My thoughts hold mortal strife
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his
Never love unless you can
Never seek to tell thy love
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note
Not, Celia, that I juster am
Now the golden Morn aloft
Now the last day of many days
( blithe new-comer! I have heard
O Brignall banks are wild and fair
O Friend! I know not which way I must look
O happy shades! to me unblest
o if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm .
O leave this barren spot to me
O listen, listen, ladies gay
O lovers' eyes are sharp to see
0 Mary, at thy window be
o me! what eyes hath love put in my head
O Mistress mine, where are you roaming
O my Luve's like a red, red rose
0 never say that I was false of heart
O saw ye bonnie Lesley
O say what is that thing callid Light
0 talk not to me of a name great in story
0 Thou, by Nature taught
O waly waly up the bank
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms
o wild West Wind, 'thou breath of Autumn's being
O World! O Life! ( Time
Obscurest night involved the sky
Of all the girls that are so smart
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw
Of Nelson and the North
Of Neptune's empire let us sing
Of this fair volume which we World' do name
Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray
Oft in the stilly night
Oh snatch'd away in beauty's bloom
On a day, alack the day
On a Poet's lips I slept

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Once did She hold the gorgeous East in fee
One more Unfortunate
One word is too often profaned
On Linden, when the sun was low
Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'a
Over the mountains

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Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day
Phoebus, arise
Pibroch 'of Donuil Dhu
Poor Soul, the centre of my sinful earth
Proud Maisie is in the wood
Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair
Rough Wind, that moanest loud
Ruin seize thee, ruthless King
Season of mist and mellow fruitfulness
See with what simplicity
Shall I compare thee to summer's day
Shall I, wasting in despair
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
She is not fair to outward view
She walks, in beauty, like the night
She was a Phantom of delight
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part
Sleep, angry beauty, sleep and fear not me
Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile
Sleep, sleep, beauty bright
Souls of Poets dead and gone
Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king
Star that bringest home the bee
Stern Daughter of the Voice of God
Surprized by joy-impatient as the wind
Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes
Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower
Sweet Love, if thou wilt gain a monarch's glory
Sweet stream, that winds through yonder glade
Swiftly walk over the western wave
Take, o take those lips away
Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense
Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind
Tell me where is Fancy bred
That time of year thoù may'st in me behold
That which her slender waist confined
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day
The forward youth that would appear
The fountains mingle with the river
The glories of our blood and state
The last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King
The lovely lass o' Inverness
The man of life upright
The merchant, to secure his treasure

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The more we live, more brief appear

388
The Nightingale, as soon as April bringeth

78
The poplars are fell'd; farewell to the shade

217
There be none of Beauty's daughters

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There is a flower, the lesser Celandine

303
There is a garden in her face

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There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away 302
There's not a nook within this solemn Pass

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There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream

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The sea hath many thousand sands

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The sun is warm, the sky is clear

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The sun upon the lake is low

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The twentieth year is well-nigh past

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The world is too much with us; late and soon

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They are all gone into the world of light

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They that have power to hurt, and will do none

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This is the month, and this the happy morn

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This Life, which seems so fair

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Though others may her brow adore

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Thou art not fair, for all thy red and white

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Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness

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Three years she grew in sun and shower

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Thy braes were bonny, Yarrow stream

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Timely blossom, Infant fair

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Tired with all these, for restful death i cry

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Toll for the Brave

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To me, fair Friend, you never can be old

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To one who has been long in city pent

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Turn back, you wanton flyer

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'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won

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'Twas on a lofty vase's side

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Two Voices are there; one is of the Sea

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Under the greenwood tree

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Upon my lap my sovereign sits

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Verse, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying

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Victorious men of earth, no more

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Waken, lords and ladies gay

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Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie

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Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee

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Weep you no more, sad fountains

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Were I as base as is the lowly plain

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We talk'd with open heart, and tongue

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We walk'd along, while bright and red

384
We watch'd her breathing thro' the night

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Whenas in silks my Julia goes

145
When Britain first at Heaven's coinmand

189
When first the fiery-mantled Sun

344
When God at first made Man

128
When he who adores thee has left but the name

296
When icicles hang by the wall

73
When I consider how my light is spent

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When I have borne in memory what has tamed

293
When I have fears that I may cease to be

279

When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced
When I survey the bright
When I think on the happy days
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
When in the chronicle of wasted time
When lovely woman stoops to folly
When Love with unconfinéd wings
When maidens such as Hester die
When Music, heavenly maid, was young
When Ruth was left half desolate
When the lamp is shatter'd
When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kve at name
When thou must home to shades of underground
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
When we two parted
Where art thou, my beloved Son
Where shall the lover rest
Where the bee sucks, there suck I
Where the remote Bermudas ride
Whether on Ida's shady brow
While that the sun with his beams hot
Whoe'er she be
Why art thou silent? is thy love a plant
Why so pale and wan, fond lover
Why weep ye by the tide, ladie
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies
With little here to do or see
With sweetest milk and sugar first
Ye banks and braes and streams around
Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon
Ye distant spires, ye antique towers
Ye Mariners of England
Yes, there is holy pleasure in thine eye
Yet' once more, o ye laurels, and once more
You meaner beauties of the night

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UNIV,

FEB 19 19.2

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