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A slumber did my spirit seal.
A sweet disorder in the dress
A weary lot is thine, fair maid
And is this-Yarrow?-This the Stream
And thou art dead, as young and fair
And wilt thou leave me thus.
Ariel to Miranda :-Take
Art thou pale for weariness
Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers
At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears
At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly
Avenge, O Lord! Thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones.
Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy
Bright Star! would I were steadfast as thou art
Call for the robin-red breast and the wren
Calm was the day, and through the trembling air
Care-charmer Sleep, son of the Sable Night.
Come away, come away, Death.
Come, cheerful day, part of my life to me
Come, Sleep: O Sleep! the certain knot of peace
Crabbed Age and Youth
Cupid and my Campaspé play'd
Cyriack, whose grandsire, on the royal bench
Daughter of Jove, relentless power.
Daughter to that good Earl, once President
Doth then the world go thus, doth all thus move
Earth has not anything to show more fair
Ethereal minstrel ! pilgrim of the sky
Fine knacks for ladies, cheap, choice, brave and new
Get up, get up for shame! The blooming morn
He that loves a rosy cheek
High-way, since you my chief Parnassus be
He sang of God, the mighty source
How happy is he born and taught.
How like a winter hath my absence been
How sleep the brave who sink to rest.
If I had thought thou couldst have died
If Thou survive my well-contented day
I'm wearing awa', Jean
In a drear-nighted December
In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining
Lady, when I behold the roses sprouting
Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son
Let me not to the marriage of true minds.
Love in thy youth, fair Maid, be wise
Love not me for comely grace
Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold.
My days among the Dead are past
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My Love in her attire doth shew her wit
My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note
O Friend! I know not which way I must look
O me! what eyes hath love put in my head
O talk not to me of a name great in story
O 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! O Time
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
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.
Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu.
Poor Soul, the centre of my sinful earth
Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair
Rough Wind, that moanest loud
Season of mist and mellow fruitfulness
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
Stern Daughter of the Voice of God
Sweet Love, if thou wilt gain a monarch's glory