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Blessed are those who have not seen

Bright October was come, the misty-bright October
But a revulsion again came over the spirit of Elspie

But if as not by that the soul desired.....
But that from slow dissolving pomps of dawn..

But whether in the uncoloured light of truth

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Come back, come back, behold with straining mast
Come home, come home! and where is home for me
Come, Poet, come !

Dance on, dance on, we see, we see

Dear Eustatio, I write that you may write me an answer
Dearest of boys, please come to-day

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Diogenes by his tub, contenting himself with the sunshine
Duty-that's to say, complying

Each for himself is still the rule

Eastward, or Northward, or West? I wander and ask as I wander..
Edward and Jane a married couple were ......

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Farewell, farewell! Her vans the vessel tries..

Farewell, my Highland lassie! when the year returns around

For she confessed, as they sat in the dusk, and he saw not her blushes
From thy far sources, 'mid mountains airily climbing

Go, foolish thoughts, and join the throng

Goddess, the anger sing of the Pelean Achilles

Green fields of England! wheresoe'er

Hearken to me, ye mothers of my tent.

Here am I yet, another twelvemonth spent

Hope evermore and believe, O man, for e'en as thy thought
How in God's name did Columbus get over....

How often sit I, poring o'er ...

I dreamed a dream: I dreamt that I espied

I have seen higher holier things than these

I saw again the spirits on a day

I stayed at La Quenille, ten miles or more

I watched them from the window, thy children at their play

If it is thou whose casual hand withdraws......

If that we thus are guilty doth appear

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If, when in cheerless wanderings, dull and cold

......

In controversial foul impureness

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Is it illusion? or does there a spirit from perfecter ages

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It was the afternoon; and the sports were now at the ending

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Matthew and Mark and Luke and holy John

Morn, in yellow and white, came broadening out from the mountains..

My beloved, is it nothing

My sons, and ye the children of my sons

My wind is turned to bitter north

O God! O God! and must I still go on

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Oh, the beautiful child! and oh, the most happy mother!

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Over a mountain slope with lentisk, and with abounding.

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Over every hill

Over the great windy waters, and over the clear-crested summits..

Put forth thy leaf, thou lofty plane....

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Roused by importunate knocks

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Said the Poet, I wouldn't maintain...
Say not the struggle nought availeth
Say, will it, when our hairs are grey

Shall I decide it by a random shot?

Since that last evening we have fallen indeed!

Slumber and Sleep, two brothers appointed to serve the immortals

So I went wrong

So in the cottage with Adam the pupils five together

So in the golden morning they parted and went to the westward
So in the golden weather they waited. But Philip returned not
So in the sinful streets, abstracted and alone

So on the morrow's morrow, with Term-time dread returning
So spake the voice: and as with a single life
Some future day when what is now is not....
Sweet streamlet bason! at thy side

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That children in their loveliness should die

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The Silver Wedding! on some pensive ear..

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The skies have sunk, and hid the upper snow..

There is a city, upbuilt on the quays of the turbulent Arno..
These are the words of Jacob's wives, the words

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Through the great sinful streets of Naples as I past
To see the rich autumnal tint depart

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To spend uncounted years of pain

To think that men of former days

To wear out heart, and nerves, and brain...
Trunks the forest yielded with gums ambrosial oozing
Truth is a golden thread, seen here and there
'Twas on a sunny summer day........

Upon the water, in the boat

Well, well,-Heaven bless you all from day to day
Were I with you, or you with me

Were you with me, or I with you

Were you with me, or I with you

What voice did on my spirit fall

What we, when face to face we see

Whate'er you dream with doubt possest

When on the primal peaceful blank profound

When panting sighs the bosom fill

When soft September brings again

When the dews are earliest falling

Whence are ye, vague desires

Whence comest thou, shady lane? and why and how?.

Where lies the land to which the ship would go?

Who is this man that walketh in the field...

Who ne'er his bread with tears hath ate

Why should I say I see the things I see not?

Ye flags of Piccadilly

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Yes, I have lied, and so must walk my way.....................

Yet to the wondrous St. Peter's, and yet to the solemn Rotonda
You complain of the woman for roving from one to another
Youth, that went, is come again

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THE END.

LONDON: PRINTED BY

SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE

AND PARLIAMENT STREET

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