Cologne for the Holy Land. When they reached Genoa only seven thousand remained. There, as the sea did not divide to a low them to march dry-shod to the East, they broke up. Some got as far as Rome; two ship-loads sailed from Pisa, and were not heard of again; the rest straggled back to Germany. INDEX OF FIRST LINES A BLIND man is a poor man, and poor a blind man is, 94. A fleet with flags arrayed, 376. After so long an absence, 229. A gentle boy, with soft and silken locks, 229. Ah, Love, 64. Ah me! ah me! when thinking of the years, 394. Ah! thou moon that shinest, 64. Ah! what pleasant visions haunt me, 126. Allah gives light in darkness, 392. All are architects of Fate, 130. All are sleeping, weary heart, 58. All houses wherein men have lived and died, All the old gods are dead, 254. Am I a king, that I should call my own, 395. A mist was driving down the British Channel, Among the many lives that I have known, 381. And now, behold! as at the approach of morn- And thou, O River of To-morrow, flowing, 383. And whither goest thou, gentle sigh, 646. As one who, walking in the twilight gloom, 121. At anchor in Hampton Roads we lay, 226. At La Chaudeau - 't is long since then, 412. Barabbas is my name, 507. Baron Castine, of St. Castine, 288. Beautiful lily, dwelling by still rivers, 317. Becalmed upon the sea of Thought, 402. Bell! thou soundest merrily, 23. Blind Bartimeus at the gates, 38, 498. Can it be the sun descending, 167. Christ to the young man said: Yet one thing Clear fount of light! my native land on high, 17. Come from thy caverns dark and deep, 349. Dark is the morning with mist; in the narrow Dead he lay among his books, 394. Dear child, how radiant on thy mother's knee, Delusions of the days that once have been, 607. Dost thou see on the rampart's height, 379. Each heart has its haunted chamber, 228. Far and wide among the nations, 182. Flow on, sweet river! like his verse, 409. 19. Forth from the curtain of clouds, from the tent of purple and scarlet, 209. Forth upon the Gitche Gumee, 157. Gaddi mi fece; il Ponte Vecchio sono, 368. Gentle Spring! in sunshine clad, 19. Give me of your bark, O Birch-tree, 156. Gloomy and dark art thou, O chief of the mighty Omahas, 85. Glove of black in white hand bare, 231. Hadst thou stayed, I must have fled, 286. Haste and hide thee, 347. Hast thou seen that lordly castle, 23. Here lies the gentle humorist, who died, 380. How beautiful it was, that one bright day, 319. How I started up in the night, in the night, 340. How many lives, made beautiful and sweet, 321. How much of my young heart, O Spain, 373. How strange it seems! These Hebrews in their graves, 216. Intelligence and courtesy not always are combined, 94. In that building, long and low, 220. In the heroic days when Ferdinand, 264. In the long, sleepless watches of the night, 31. In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry old and brown, 77. In the old churchyard of his native town, 401. In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims, 191. In the valley of the Pegnitz, where across broad meadow-lands, 79. In the Valley of the Vire, 217. In the village churchyard she lies, 214. Into the darkness and the hush of night, 401. Into the open air John Alden, perplexed and bewildered, 198. Into the Silent Land, 24. I pace the sounding sea-beach and behold, 365. I said unto myself, if I were dead, 367. I saw, as in a dream sublime, 84. I saw the long line of the vacant shore, 367. I see amid the fields of Ayr, 397. I shot an arrow into the air, 90. Is it so far from thee, 395. I stand again on the familiar shore, 364. I stand beneath the tree, whose branches shade, 384. I stood on the bridge at midnight, 85. I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch, 8. Italy Italy thou who 'rt doomed to wear, 339. I thought this Pen would arise, 396. How strange the sculptures that adorn these It is autumn; not without, 413. towers, 322. How the Titan, the defiant, 344. How they so softly rest, 22. I am poor and old and blind, 362. I am the God Thor, 246. I enter, and I see thee in the gloom, 322. If perhaps these rhymes of mine should sound not well in strangers' ears, 94. If thou art sleeping, maiden, 74. I have a vague remembrance, 229. I have read, in some old, marvellous tale, 5. I hear along our street, 140. I heard a brooklet gushing, 22. I heard a voice, that cried, 133. I heard the bells, on Christmas Day, 319. I heard the trailing garments of the Night, 2. I know a maiden fair to see, 23. I lay upon the headland-height, and listened, 317. I leave you, ye cold mountain chains, 391. In Attica thy birthplace should have been, 364. In Mather's Magnalia Christi, 212. In Ocean's wide domains, 43. In St. Luke's Gospel we are told, 399. It is the Harvest Moon! On gilded vanes, 382. I trust that somewhere and somehow, 277. It was Einar Tamberskelver, 261. It was fifty years ago, 224. It was Sir Christopher Gardiner, 314. It was the schooner Hesperus, 27. It was the season when through all the land, 268. Janus am I; oldest of potentates, 403. Just in the gray of the dawn, as the mists uprose from the meadows, 200. King Christian stood by the lofty mast, 21. King Ring with his queen to the banquet did fare, 641. King Solomon, before his palace gate, 293 Labor with what zeal we will, 227. Lady, how can it chance yet this we see, 393. Laugh of the mountain!-lyre of bird and tree! 17. Leafless are the trees; their purple branches, 220. Let him who will, by force or fraud innate, 413. Let nothing disturb thee, 340. Like two cathedral towers these stately pines 400. Listen my children, and you shall hear, 235. Live I, so live I, 94. Lo in the painted oriel of the West, 90. Love, love, what wilt thou with this heart of mine, 648. Lull me to sleep, ye winds, whose fitful sound, 367. Lutheran, Popish, Calvinistic, all these creeds and doctrines three, 94. Maiden! with the meek, brown eyes, 39. Meanwhile the stalwart Miles Standish was My soul its secret has, my life too has its mystery, 648. Neglected record of a mind neglected, 637. Nine sisters, beautiful in form and face, 381. Northward over Drontheim, 258. No sound of wheels or hoof-beat breaks, 359. Not fashioned out of gold, like Hera's throne, 341. Nothing that is shall perish utterly, 415. Not without fire can any workman mould, 392. Now the zephyrs diminish the cold, and the year being ended, 389. Now Time throws off his cloak again, 646. O hemlock tree! O hemlock tree! how faithful are thy branches, 92. Oh, give me back the days when loose and free, 392. Oh, how blest are ye whose toils are ended, 644. O little feet! that such long years, 228. O Lord! who seest, from yon starry height, 17. O lovely river of Yvette, 376. Once into a quiet village, 133. Once on a time, some centuries ago, 304. 1 Once the Emperor Charles of Spain, 215. One morning all alone, 523. One summer morning, when the sun was hot. 237. On King Olaf's bridal night, 252. On St. Bavon's tower, commanding. 376. On the green little isle of Inchkenneth, 378. O traveller, stay thy weary feet, 638. Rabbi Ben Levi, on the Sabbath, read, 242. River! that in silence windest, 38. River, that stealest with such silent pace, 364. Sadly as some old mediæval knight, 414. San Miguel de la Tumba is a convent vast and wide, 640. See, the fire is sinking low, 320. She dwells by Great Kenhawa's side, 42. Short of stature, large of limb, 253. Should you ask me, whence these stories, 141. Sir Oluf he rideth over the plain, 29. Slowly the hour-hand of the clock moves round, 383. Soft through the silent air descend the feathery snowflakes, 637. So from the bosom of darkness our days come Something the heart must have to cherish, 391. 3outhward with fleet of ice, 127. Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, 4. Stars of the summer night, 47. Stay, stay at home, my heart, and rest, 379. Sweet babe! true portrait of thy father's face, Sweet chimes! that in the loneliness of night, 408. Sweet faces, that from pictured casements lean, 384. Sweet the memory is to me, 361. Taddeo Gaddi built me. I am old, 368. Take them, O Death! and bear away, 135. Thora of Rimol! hide me! hide me, 248. Thou brooklet, all unknown to song, 391. Thou mighty Prince of Church and State, 339. Three Kings came riding from far away, 378. Three Silences there are: the first of speech, 382. Thus for a while he stood, and mused by the Thus sang the Potter at his task, 368. 'Tis late at night, and in the realm of sleep, Tityrus, thou in the shade of a spreading beechtree reclining, 386. The Archbishop, whom God loved in high de- To-day from the Aurora's bosom, 408. gree, 647. The battle is fought and won, 309. The brooklet came from the mountain, 230. The course of my long life hath reached at last, The day is cold, and dark, and dreary, 37. The doors are all wide open; at the gate, 365. The night is come, but not too soon, 3. There sat one day in quiet, 21. There was a time when I was very small, 643. The rocky ledge runs far into the sea, 128. These are the Voices Three, 349. These words the poet heard in Paradise, 408, The summer sun is sinking low, 407. The sun is bright, the air is clear, 37. The sun is set; and in his latest beans, 366. The tide rises, the tide falls. 400. The twilight is sad and cloudy, 127. To gallop off to town post-haste, 648. To noble heart Love doth for shelter fly, 648. Tuscan, that wanderest through the realms of 'T was Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness, 24. Under a spreading chestnut-tree, 36. Up soared the lark into the air, 362. Viswamitra the Magician, 378. Warm and still is the summer night, 372. What should be said of him cannot be said, What the Immortals, 346. When Alcuin taught the sons of Charlemagne, 295. When by night the frogs are croaking, kindle When descends on the Atlantic, 86. When I compare, 413. When I remember them, those friends of mine 364. |