Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey, on revisiting the Banks of the Wye Written while Sailing in a Boat at, Evening Sunrise How Beautiful the Queen of Night A Night Piece To the Daisy... Ode to Duty Education the Duty of the State Self-Knowledge Earthly Glories Evanescent London at Sunrise... Man's Spiritual Power We have all of us one Human Heart... The Fountain To a Distant Friend WORDSWORTH, S Translated from M. Angelo-Father, thou must Lead 175 ... The Labourer's Noonday Hymn The only Adequate Support for the Calamities of Life ... 317 On the Banks of a Rocky Stream 99 A Simile ... The Field Reaper ... A Portrait ... ... On the Extinction of the Venetian Republic ... The Cottage-An Admonition... WOTTON The Happy Life... ::: INDEX OF FIRST LINES. PAGE 81 331 164 127 334 8 205 91 26 305 373 156 51 209 52 135 137 16 82 274 160 321 171 12 32 268 379 178 225 338 321 141 343 192 26- 169 160 169 811 11 273 276 302 356 130 132 64 79 18 126 183 220 All these and more came flocking; but with looks Blue Eyebright! loveliest flower of all that grow But where to find that happiest spot below Cheer'd by this hope she bends her thither Father of light and life! thou good supreme Feed him with jonquils and anemones First came the loss of light, and air ... ... Five years have past; five summers with the length Flowers: when the Saviour's calm benignant eye... God does not need either man's work Haggard and chill, as a lost ghost, the Morn... Happy is England! I could be content Hark!-hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings ... ... Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere... ... Higher, higher will we climb ... Home of our hearts, our father's home! I stood within the Coliseum's wall I travell'd among unknown men ... If I had thought thou could'st have died If thou be one whose heart the holy forms In a dim and distant far land In 'customed glory bright, that morn the sun In the hour of my distress... In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining In the swelling flood of life... In the silence of my chamber In this dim world of clouding cares In vain our labours are, whatsoe'er they be In Xanadu did Kubla Khan In youth I died, in maiden bloom Into that forest tar they thence him led... Is't death to tall for Freedom's ri.ht? Is it come? they said on the banks of Nile Is it not sweet to think hereafter... Is this a time to be cloudy and sad It chanced upon the merry merry Christmas Eve It is the hush of night, and all between It is the midnight hour:-the beauteous séa It is a sultry day; the sun has drunk It is an ancient Mariner It is the hour when from the boughs It is not growing like a tree ... It is the mind that makes the body rich It stands in a sunny meadow It was a valley fi'd with sweetest sounds John Wimble was a fisherman ... ... ... .... Lastly came Winter, clothed all in frieze ... ... Lone flower! hemm'd in with snows as white as they Look yonder, with delighted heart and eye Loud into pomp sonorous swell the chords! "Make way for liberty!" he cried Man is dear to man; the poorest poor Marian, thou seest, though courtly pleasures want... Men think it is an awful sight Midnight was come, and every vital thing "Mong the green lanes of Kent-green sunny lanes... |