"He collected his thoughts," said the tome
Heed not the folk who sing or say

He is the despots' Despot. All must bide
He lived in a cave by the seas

PAGE

484

245

277

228

He longs to steal a kiss of mine

399

Hot hands that yearn to touch her flower-like face

334

I am not ambitious at all .

119

I am not fit to follow; yet I pray

491

I cannot read, I cannot rest .

485

I caught the changes of the year
Ices-Programmes-Lemonade

If I should steal a little kiss

If I were king-ah love, if I were king

If I were king, my pipe should be premier

311

406

399

345

345

If they hint, O Musician, the piece that you played

I killed her? Ah, why do they cheer
I love you dearly, O my sweet

I make my shroud, but no one knows
Immortal eyes, why do they never die
In after days when grasses high..

In a vacant mood the phrase came to me

.

In Ballades things always contrive to get lost
In beechen shade the hours are sweet
In Camelot how grey and green
In dreams I crossed a barren land

259

398

407

306

411

477

329

118

463

357

355

191

.

In fair Provence, the land of lute and rose
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
In London town men love and hate
In love's disport, gay bubbles blown
In the clatter of the train

In the light, in the shade

PAGE

445

370

346

336

421

409

In the mud of the Cambrian main
In the School of Coquettes .
In thy clear eyes, fairest, I see

227

398

340

I saw her shadow on the grass

I saw my soul at rest upon a day
I sit enthroned 'mid icy wastes afar
Isolde, in the story old.

410

453

288

211

I study wise themes with rigid care

257

It is enough to love you. Let me be

I will go hence, and seek her, my old Love

388

I wonder if, sunning in Eden's vales

248

I wonder in what Isle of Bliss .

494

I would that all men my hard case might know

Keeper of promises made in spring
King Philip had vaunted his claims
Kissing her hair I sat against her feet
Kiss me, sweetheart, the Spring is here

Lady of Heaven and earth, and therewithal
Last night in Memory's boughs aswing .
Laughter and tears to you the gods once gave
Les morts vont vite! Ay, for a little space
Les Morts vont vite: the dead go fast

Light love in a mist, by the midsummer moon misguided 377
Like a queen enchanted who may not laugh or weep

167

253

164

331

304

492

435

358

365

366

471

Love hath wept till he is blind .

Love is a swallow

Love lies bleeding in the bed whereover

PAGE

Lilacs glow, and jasmines climb
Little mistress mine, good-bye.

179

415

Love comes back to his vacant dwelling
Love, harken how the boughs o'erhead

307

190

403

411

376

381

Love that holdeth firm in fee

339

432

447

431

121

124

339

464

Love, out of the depth of things .

Love, why so long away

Love with shut wings, a little ungrown love

Man's very voice is stilled on Troas' shore.
May he fall in with beasts that scatter fire .
Men, brother men, that after us yet live
Might love be bought, I were full fain
Ministers! you, most serious
'Mongst all immortals tardiest is their tread
My brother, my Valerius, dearest head

My day and night are in my lady's hand
My days for singing and loving are over
My father died when I was all too young
My friend, from China to Peru.
My Lady's Eyes Remembrance bring
My love to me is always kind
My rival Death is fashioned amorously
Myrtilla thinks! be still, oh, breeze .

My soul is sick of nightingale and rose

Nay, tell me now in what strange air
Never a horn sounds in Sherwood to-night
New roads to fare, new toils to overthrow
News! Good News! at the old year's end
Not wise as cunning scholars are
Now ain't they utterly too-too

Now take your full of love and glee
Now that the swallow again we see
Now, when the street-pent airs blow stale
Now who will thread the winding way

O babbling Spring, than glass more clear

O conquerors and heroes, say .

"O crikey, Bill!" she ses to me, she ses
O daffodil, flower saffron-gowned

Of all the songs that dwell

O fleet of foot as Artemis

O ghosts of Bygone Hours, that stand

O Goat-foot God of Arcady

425

O goddess sweet, give ear unto my prayer

387

O happy sleep! that bear'st upon thy breast

362

Oh! flame of grass, shot upward from the earth
Oh, gentle Lady of God's sea

334

434

O honey of Hymettus Hill

315

Oh, that men would praise the Lord

411

Oh, to go back to the days of June

171

O jewel of the deep blue night

O Master of the Old and New

429

430

O may he meet with dragons belching fire
O mighty Queen, our Lady of the fire

122

282

O most fair God! O Love both new and old
One ballade more before we say good-night
One merry morn when all the earth was bright
One of these days, my lady whispereth.
On every wind there comes the dolorous cry
On London stones, I sometimes sigh
On Newport beach there ran right merrily
Onward the Nation marches, and in sight

280

141

455

340

156

329

472

293

O scorn me not, although my worth be slight
O singer of Persephone

Out of the dark, pure twilight, where the stream

Queen, thou art found in toiling-where the wheat

284

PAGE

Rhyme in a late disdainful age

Romance is dead, say some, and so, to-day

Rose kissed me to-day

Rose, round whose bed

St. Valentine! well hast thou said

138

291

397

376

353

Sea to sea that clasps and fosters England, uttering

evermore

She has just "put her gown on" at Girton

162

221

So long ago it was! Nay, is it true

309

195

490

Some fools keep ringing the dumb waiter bell
Some of the books that I would prize
Someone has lit the lamp and hung
Sometimes when I sit down at night
Song wakes with every wakening year

481

235

308

236

147

Speakin' in general, I 'ave tried 'em all

Straw in the street where I pass to-day

383

Strengthen, my Love, this castle of my heart
Such mistletoe is hard to find

Sweetheart, I wait; now, as in time gone by

Tell me now in what hidden way is
Thank Heaven, in these despondent days
That New Year's Call-the thirty-first
That she is dead breeds no uncouth despair
The air is white with snow-flakes clinging
The Ancient Wood is white and still .
The big teetotum twirls

491

493

192

352

368

427

183

269

The Books I cannot hope to buy

234

The clouds are thick and darkly lower
The dust of Carthage and the dust

The far green westward heavens are bland .

255

144

148