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Saint Augustine! well hast thou said ...
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Seasons return; but not to me returns
See how, beneath the moonbeam's smile
See, love! what envious streaks
See, the day begins to break
She died in beauty, like a rose blown from its parent stem
She lay among the myrtles on the cliff
She was a phantom of delight ...
Shed no tear! O shed no tear! ..
Sing on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough
Sleep soft, beloved! we sometimes say ...
Slowly, slowly up the wall
Some humble heart is sore and sick with grie
Some I remember, and will ne'er forget 1,
Soon will the moon and all her stars be here
Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea
So fails, so languishes, grows dim, and dies ...
So it falls out ...
Spake full well, in language quaint and olden
Speak gently to the erring ... ...
Speak low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet
Speak you so gently? pardon me, I pray you
Stand here by my side, and turn, I pray
Stern Daughter of the voice of God ...
Swallow, swallow, hither wing ...
Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content
Sweet bird! that sing'st away the early hours
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright ...
Sweet Evening hour! sweet Evening hour ...
Sweet is the breath of Morn, her rising sweet
Sweet is the pleasure

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Take then, O Death! and bear away
Talk not of temples! There is one
Tell me not, in mournful numbers
Tell me, on what holy ground ...
That name! how often every day
The blessings which the weak and poor can scatter
The book is completed .... ... ... ... ...
The breeze had sunk to rest, the noonday sun was high
The crackling embers on the hearth are dead
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day
The castled crag of Drachenfels ...
The dew is on the summer's greenest grass ...
The fairy beam upon you ... ..
The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learn'd
The human soul, like sweetest lyre
The heart, unalter'd in its mood ...
The inward sighs of humble penitence
The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
The island lies nine leagues away
The lopped tree in time may grow again
The lark is singing in the blinding sky
The Moon shines white and silent
The music of an infant's feet ..
The mid day hour of twelve the clock o
The mysteries of the Angel-world
The milk-white blossoms of the thorn
The Minster is a marble psalm ...
The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone
The night is come, but not too soon
The noonday sun now shone upon the forest
The painter's hues stand visible before us ...
The point of one white star is quivering still
The raiu is playing its soft, pleasant tune
The sky is overcast ... ... ...
The sky is changed-and such a change! Oh, night
The shades of night were falling fast ...
The swallow, for a moment seen
The swallow's nest of mud beneath the eaves
The Summer-flower has run to seed .

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The sun is set; the swallows are asleep
The sun is warm, the sky is clear
The sunbeams streak the azure skies ...
The summer dawn's reflected hue
The sweetest voice that warbles in the grove
The scene was more beautiful far, to my eve.
The sea of life sends forth tumultuous waves...
The secret heart is fair Devotion's temple
The stormy winds raved loud, and vex'd
The swallow for a moment seen ...
The thrushes sang and shook my pulses
The tide bas ebb'd away ..

The world is too much with us.
The warın sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing
The winds breathe low; the withering leaf ...
The waters slent Night's silvery veil hung low
The way was long, the wind was cold ...
The year's at the spring ...
Then came fair May, the fairest maid on ground
Then came the jolly Summer being dight
Then let us be content in spirit, though
There also was a Shipman from tar West
There are homesteads which have witness'd deeds
There is some soul of soodness in things evil
There is a land, of every land the pride...
There is a land of love ... ... ... *
There is in souls a sympathy with sounds
There's a bower of roses by B-nlemeer's stream
There is a beautiful spirit breathing now
There in his bosom Sapience doth sit ... ..
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream
There was a sound of revelry by night...
There was a little lawny islet ... ... .
These are thy glorious works, Parent of good
These as they change, Almighty Father, these
These flowres white and red ..
They fell devoted but undying .
This isle and house are mine, and I have vow'd
This royal throne or kings, this sceptred isle ....
Thiose haiting tones that sound to you..,
Thoughts of home! how sad they twine
Though I look old, yet am I strong and lusty
Thou art not dead; thou art not gone to dust
Thou art, O God! the life and light ,
Thou wert a vision of delight ...
Thou blossom bright with autumn dew
Thought shines from God as shines the morn
Throuzh the stilling room ... ... ...
"Tis midnight : on the mountain's brown

Tis morn, but yet the full and cloudless moon
"Tis Nature's law ..
"Tis liberty alone that gives the flower
Tis sunset; to the firmament serene ...
Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back
Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race of y
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow
To the Ocean now I fly
To Thee, rur Creator, our homage we bring ...
To pomp and pageantry in nought allied
Toll for the brave! ... ..,
Trees, gracious trees!-how rich a gift ye are
"Twas at the royal feast for Persia won...

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Unless Thou show to us Thine own true way
Up to the throne of God is borne ...
We love the king who loves the law ..
We sow the glebe, we reap the corn
We talk'd with open heart, and tongue..,
We wandered to the Pine Forest ...
Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower
What matters it though spring-time

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What saith the river to the rushes grey
What soul was his, when from the naked top
What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted?
What then is taste but these internal powers...
When doubts torment, and fears assail... ...
When eve is purpling cliff and cave ...
When first thiy eyes unveil, give thy soul leave
When I wedded thee, the land was free!
When Music, heavenly maid! was young
When the hours of Day are number'd ...
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought.
When twilight's parting flush ...
When urged by strong temptation to the brink
Whence art thou, flower?-From holy ground
Where are the swallows fled? ...
Where will they stop, those breathing Powers
Who feels that God and Heaven's great deeps are nearer
Who is he that coincth, like an honour'd guest
Who says we are craven and cold? ..
Why art thon silent? Is thy love a plant.
Would I describe a preacher such as Paul
Would that I were a river ...
Wish'd Morning's coine; and now, upon the plains
With little here to do or see...
With other ministrations thou, O Nature ...
With some good ten of his chosen men, Bernardo
With the sweet airs of spring the Robin comes


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Ye clouds, that far above me float and pause...
Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again!
Ye mariners of England ... ... ...
Ye wintry flowers, whose pensive dyes
Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use
Yes, there is holy pleasure in thine eye
Yon cottager, who weaves at her own door
You ask me why, though ill at ease
You must wake and call me early, call me
Young folk now flocken in everywhere
Your voiceless lips, O flowers! are living preachers

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