roses758Sublime—invention ever young479Sumer is icumen in1Sunset and evening star718Sure thou didst flourish once! and many springs374Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind551Sweet are the ways of death to weary feet810Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes272Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright289Sweet Echo, sweetest Nymph that liv’st unseen322Sweet in her green dell the flower of beauty slumbers650Sweet rois of vertew and of gentilness21Sweet Spring, thou turn’st with all thy goodly train235Sweet western wind, whose luck it is257Sweetest Saviour, if my soul292Swiftly walk o’er the western wave619Take, O take those lips away148Tanagra! think not I forget570Tarry a moment, happy feet917Tarye no lenger; toward thyn herytage18Tell me not of a face that’s fair363Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind352Tell me not what too well I know581Tell me where is Fancy bred142Th’ expense of Spirit in a waste of shame173Thank Heaven! the crisis702That time of year thou may’st in me behold162That which her slender waist confined312That zephyr every year234The angels’ eyes, whom veils cannot deceive118The beauty and the life237The blessàd Damozel lean’d out779The boat is chafing at our long delay868The chough and crow to roost are gone524The curfew tolls the knell of parting day465The day begins to droop845The days are sad, it is the Holy tide693The feathers of the willow801The forward youth that would appear364The Gods are happy764The glories of our blood and state296The gray sea and the long black land733The Indian weed witheràd quite400 (I)The irresponsive silence of the land795The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!608The king sits in Dunfermline town381The Lady Mary Villiers lies302The lark now leaves his wat’ry nest309The last and greatest Herald of Heaven’s King240The lovely lass o’Inverness518The maidens came30 (ii)The man of life upright185The merchant, to secure his treasure434The moth’s kiss, first!732The murmur of the mourning ghost774The naked earth is warm with spring962The night has a thousand eyes863The Nightingale, as soon as April bringeth101The rain set early in to-night729The red rose whispers of passion838The ring, so worn as you behold496The Rose was sick and smiling died263The seas are quiet when the winds give o’er314The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings47The spacious firmament on high444The splendour falls on castle walls712The Star that bids the Shepherd fold321The sun descending in the west505The thirsty earth soaks up the rain358The twentieth year is wellnigh past485The wind flapped loose, the wind was still780The wind’s on the wold808The wine of Love is music804The world is too much with us; late and soon549The world’s great age begins anew614The year’s at the spring728The young May moon is beaming, love592Thee too, modest tressàd maid522Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now164There ance was a may, and she lo’ed na men441There are two births; the one when light339There is a garden in her face178There is a Lady sweet and kind79There is a silence where hath been no sound656There is no fire of the crackling boughs778There is sweet music here that softer falls710There lived a wife at Usher’s well388There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream550There were three ravens sat on a tree389There were twa sisters sat in a bour386There’s a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield898There’s a woman like a dew-drop, she’s so purer than the purest731There’s not a nook within this solemn Pass554These, in the day when heaven was falling877They all were looking for a king777They are all gone into the world light!375They are not long, the weeping and the laughter914They flee from me that sometime did me seek45They shut the road through the woods899They that have power to hurt and will do none165They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead768Think thou and act; to-morrow thou shalt die782This ae nighte, this ae nighte391This is a spray the Bird clung to738This is the Chapel: here, my son891This is the place929This little vault, this narrow room303This winter’s weather it waxeth cold36Thou art to all lost love the best275Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness632Thou wast all that to me, love703Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies411Though beauty be the mark of praise200Three years she grew in sun and shower532Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts756Through that pure Virgin-shrine376Throw away Thy rod291Thus the Mayne glideth727Thy bosom is endearàd with all hearts158Thy restless feet now cannot go350Thy soul within such silent pomp did keep431Tiger, tiger, burning bright503Time is the feather’d thing304’Tis a dull sight704To all you ladies now at land419To fair Fidele’s grassy tomb472To him who in the love of Nature holds645To live within a cave—it is most good798To me, fair friend, you never can be old169To mute and to material things561To my true king I offer’d free from stain666To the Ocean now I fly324To thee, fair freedom! I retire
By PanEris using Melati.
