There are a number of us creep, Watts, 855 There are gains for all our losses, There came a breath, out of a distant time, 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 God," the foolish saith, O. Wilde, O. Wilde, The soul hath its feelers, cobwebs floating on the wind, Tupper.. 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 speckled sky is dim with snow, The splendor falls on castle walls, The storm-wind moans through branches bare.; The summer coaxed me to be glad, The summer dawn's reflected hue," The summer day is closed - the sun is set: The summer-tide swells high and full; The sun has kissed the violet sea, . The sun of life has crossed the line; . The sun upon the Weirdlaw Hill, Stoddard, 540 Jennison, 832 Campbell, 112 Tupper,. Sir H. Taylor, 570 Hunt, 301 Thou goest: to what distant place, Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie, The years have linings just as goblets do: They told me in my earlier years, Think not some knowledge rests with thee alone,. Think not your duty done when, sad and tearful,. This circulating principle of life, This is Goethe, with a forehead, This is where the roses grew, This man whose homely face you look upon, "Thou and I!". Thou art not dead; thou art not gone to dust Thou first, best friend that heaven assigns below, Though Reason through Faith's mysteries see,. Though wronged, not harsh my answer! Though you should come again to-morrow, Thou happy, happy elf! Thou knowest, O my Father! Why should I, Thou ling'ring star, with less'ning ray,. J. C. R. Dorr, 195 82 Thou lone companion of the spectred night, Thou shalt have sun and shower from heaven above, Thou whose birth on earth, Three fishers went sailing away to the West, Three roses, wan as moonlight and weighed down, Through love to light! Oh, wonderful the way, Wolcot, Swinburne, Gilder, Kingsley, 321 Halpine, 726 Tiger! Tiger! burning bright, Till the slow daylight pale, Time, hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,. Time, in advance, behind him hides his wings, 'Tis a fearful night in the winter time, "Tis all a great show,. 'Tis a story told by Kalidasa, "Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours; "Tis not stringing rhymes together, "Tis said that when the nightingale, "Tis self whereby we suffer, "Tis sweet to hear a brook, 'tis sweet, To be, or not to be, that is the question, To him who, in the love of Nature holds, Toil on! toil on! ye ephemeral train, Too late I stayed-forgive the crime To learning's second seats we now proceed, Toll, tower and minster, toll, To Love in my heart, I exclaimed, t'other morning, To miry places me the hunters drive, To-morrow has trouble to lend,. To Thee, fair Freedom, I retire, Touch us gently, Time, To you, my purse, and to none other wight, Tread softly! bow the head Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky, Two honest tradesmen meeting in the Strand, Two things love can do, Two maidens listening to the sea— Two travellers of conceited east, Tying her bonnet under her chin, Perry, S. M. B. Piatt, Wyatt, Tupper, S. T. Coleridge, Hay, What lies beyond the fair horizon's rim? . What makes a hero? not success, not fame, We sat by the cheerless fireside, We should fill the hours with the sweetest things, We two have grown up so divinely together, . What if the foot, ordained the dust to tread, What is it that doth spoil the fair adorning,. What love do I bring you? What man can hear sweet sounds and dread to die? Stoddard, 542 M. Prior, 774 What man is he that boasts of fleshly might, What memory fired her pallid face, "What need has the singer to sing?" Spofford, 529 J. C. R. Dorr, 194 What shall I do with all the days and hours,. Kemble,. 317 "What shall I sing?" I sighed, and said, J. J. Piatt, What's hallowed ground? Has earth a clod, What sounds arouse me from my slumbers light?. Campbell, Winter,. 108 471 661 What though short thy date! What though not all, What though the chilly wide-mouthed quacking, What to do to make thy fame, What wak'st thou, Spring? Sweet voices in the woods, What was I cannot tell-thou know'st our story,. What, what is virtue, but repose of mind,. Thomson, 595 588 Gilder, 232 833 H. H. Brownell, 59 When chapman billies leave the street, Burns, 695 When chill November's surly blast When first I looked into thy glorious eyes, When I am dead, my dearest, When I am turned to mouldering dust,. When I beneath the cold red earth am sleeping, When Israel, of the Lord beloved, When I was dead, my spirit turned, When last the maple bud was swelling, When love is in her eyes, Burns, 85 Byron, 92 Canning, 708 Croly, 178 When men in health against physicians rail, When the lessons and tasks are all ended, When the sheep are in the fauld, When the stern genius, to whose hollow tramp, When to soft Sleep we give ourselves away, Where did you come from, baby dear?. Crabbe, 165 W. Collins, 145 Herbert,. 264 |