Awake my St. John, leave all meaner things A word spoken in due season, how good is it. Beauties, have ye seen this toy Before the starry threshold of Jove's court Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever Be Homer's works your study and delight Bestower of the health that lies, Blow, blow, thou winter-wind. Breathes there the man with soul so dead But how he will come and whither he goes, Cæsar himself could never say Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes, Captain or Co-lo-nel or Knight at arms! Cheeks as soft as July peaches Child, amid the flowers at play, Down by yon hazel copse, at evening blazed PAGE Dread offspring of the holy light within, E'en such is Time, which takes in trust- Earth has not anything to show more fair, Eke Plato sayeth, whoso can him read, Every word that he speaks has been fierily furnaced Falling out of faithful friends. Fancies are but streams of vain pleasure Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness, Farewell happy fields, where joy for ever dwells Farewell! thou child of my right hand, and joy Father of all, in every age Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Fierce wars and faithful loves shall moralize my song, Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. Follow pleasure, and then will pleasure flee, For I who hold sage Homer's rule the best Forth she went out unattended; For Truth has such a face and such a mien, Fresh clad from Heaven in robes of white, Friend to my life, which did not you prolong Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Give Cartwright his Parliaments fresh every Give me a look, give me a face, Give to the winds thy fears year Glories, pleasures, pomps, delights, and ease, Go, and catch a falling star, God of my life! and Author of my days! 366 God prosper long our noble king, Go, little book, thyself present, Gone! they ne'er go! 169 Go when the morning shineth, 332 Go, you may call it madness, folly, . 265 Grace was in all her steps, Heaven in her eye. 87 PAGE Had I but served my God with half the zeal Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove! 34 Hail, holy Light! offspring of Heaven, firstborn! 82 Happy the man, and happy he alone, 115 Hark, hark, the lark! 37 Hark, his hands the lyre explore! 372 Has life so little store of real woes, 297 Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea 74 Hear! Land of Cakes, and brother Scots, 225 Heaven lies about us in our infancy 320 He best can paint them who can feel them most 157 He hath showed thee, O man, what is good, Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind, 309 204 Her life to lead us up to Heaven was lent us, I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers. 329 28 I dare do all that may become a man, I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear PAGE 32 270 I may liken learning to a shield I'll hope no more for things that will not come I mourn no more my vanished years, In beauty or wit, In full-blown dignity see Wolsey stand, In the house of pure Emanuel In your sweet simple nature of woman I pr'ythee no more, dear importunate friend! I remember when the fight was done, I saw thee weep-the big bright tear- I see a form, I see a face, Is that Old Age that's tirling at the pin? 78 4I 343 183 15 295 128 57 126 318 252 123 323 348 72 61 365 145 187 367 241 159 49 336 251 236 372 359 It fell once in a morn of May. 3 It is an old saying, that few words are best Katerfelto with his hair on end Kindred objects kindred thoughts inspire Lament who will, in fruitless tears, Lead kindly Light! amid the encircling gloom, Learn of the little nautilus to sail Leave me, O love, which reachest but to dust, Let fate do her worst, there are relics of joy Let me not to the marriage of true minds, Let modest Foster, if he will, excel PAGE 214 259 215 353 345 340 134 II 269 40 159 Lord, have mercy when we pray Love in her sunny eyes does basking play Madam, I do as is my duty, 107 Man goeth to his long home, 17 Man is the nobler growth our realms supply, 243 217 Mark where its simple front yon mansion rears 243 Men must be taught as if you taught them not Music, when soft voices die My conscience is my crown, My days have been so wondrous free, Mysterious night, when our first Parent knew. Nature fits all her children with something to do, Nine-and-twenty knights of fame Nobles and heralds, by your leave, No longer mourn for me when I am dead Nor can the snow which now cold Age does shed, |