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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'd'
Over the mountains

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 a 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 thou 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
The Nightingale, as soon as April bringeth
The poplars are fell'd; farewell to the shade
There be none of Beauty's daughters

There is a flower, the lesser Celandine
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

The sea hath many thousand sands

The sun is warm, the sky is clear
The sun upon the lake is low

The twentieth year is well-nigh past

The world is too much with us; late and soon

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They are all gone into the world of light

They that have power to hurt, and will do none
This is the month, and this the happy morn
This Life, which seems so fair
Though others may her brow adore
Thou art not fair, for all thy red and white
Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness
Three years she grew in sun and shower
Thy braes were bonny, Yarrow stream
Timely blossom, Infant fair

cry

Tired with all these, for restful death i
Toll for the Brave
To me, fair Friend, you never can be old
To one who has been long in city pent
Turn back, you wanton flyer

'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won
'Twas on a lofty vase's side

Two Voices are there; one is of the Sea

Under the greenwood tree
Upon my lap my sovereign sits

Verse, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying
Victorious men of earth, no more

Waken, lords and ladies gay
Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee
Weep you no more, sad fountains
Were I as base as is the lowly plain
We talk'd with open heart, and tongue
We walk'd along, while bright and red
We watch'd her breathing thro' the night
Whenas in silks my Julia goes

When Britain first at Heaven's command
When first the fiery-mantled Sun

When God at first made Man

When he who adores thee has left but the name

When icicles hang by the wall

When I consider how my light is spent
When I have borne in memory what has tamed
When I have fears that I may cease to be

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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 kye at hame
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, ye laurels, and once more
You meaner beauties of the night

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