No. What bird so sings, yet so does wail! 86 What conscience, say, is it in thee. 265 What have I done for you 844 What is your substance, whereof are you made What needs complaints. What nymph should I admire or trust What should I say? What sweet relief the showers to thirsty plants we see What was he doing, the great god Pan 687 When by Zeus relenting the mandate was When, Cœlia, must my old day set 396 When daisies pied and violets blue. When, dearest, I but think of thee. 328 When Death to either shall come 840 When Delia on the plain appears When God at first made Man When I am dead, my dearest 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 When icicles hang by the wall When, in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes When Jessie comes with her soft breast When Letty had scarce pass'd her third glad year 449 285 781 318 527 635 298 126 146 160 791 693 663 755 When Love with unconfinèd wings When lovely woman stoops to folly 348 467 When maidens such as Hester die. 578 When my love was away 836 When our two souls stand up erect and strong 686 When the breath of twilight blows to flame the misty skies When the fierce North-wind with his airy forces When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame 477 When thy beauty appears When to the Sessions of sweet silent thought. 436 147 597 When we were idlers with the loitering rills When you are old and gray and full of sleep Where, like a pillow on a bed 835 89 90 123 336 200 Where the remote Bermudas ride. Whether on Ida's shady brow While that the sun with his beams hot Whither, O splendid ship, thy white sails crowding Who hath his fancy pleased Who is it that, this dark night Who is Silvia? What is she? Whoe'er she be Whoever comes to shroud me, do not harm Why art thou silent! Is thy love a plant Why does your brand sae drop wi' blude Why, having won her, do I woo! . Why dost thou shade thy lovely face? O why Why I tie about thy wrist Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Why, why repine, my pensive friend Wilt Thou forgive that sin where I begun With all my will, but much against my heart With how sad steps, O moon, thou climb'st the skies! 'Ye have robb'd,' said he, 'ye have slaughter'd and made an end Ye Highlands and ye Lawlands Ye learned sisters, which have oftentimes Ye little birds that sit and sing Ye Mariners of England Yes: in the sea of life enisled Yet if His Majesty, our sovereign lord Yet once more, O ye Laurels, and once more. You brave heroic minds. You meaner beauties of the night You must be sad; for though it is to Heaven |