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Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Meriam, Flint,
83.

Burly, dozing humble-bee, 63.

But Nature whistled with all her winds, 91.
But never yet the man was found, 90.
By a route obscure and lonely, 48.

By his evening fire the artist, 150.
By the bivouac's fitful flame, 572.

By the rude bridge that arched the flood, 63.

Champion of those who groan beneath, 260.
Coin the day-dawn into lines, 94.

Columbus stands in the night alone, and, passing
grave, 617.

Come, dear old comrade, you and I, 385.
Come forth! my catbird calls to me, 497.
Come, I will make the continent indissoluble, 561.
Come, let us plant the apple-tree, 22.
Come my tan-faced children, 569.
Come, said my soul, 602.

Come, spread your wings, as I spread mine, 363.
Come to me, O ye children! 150.

Come up from the fields, father, here's a letter
from our Pete, 573.

Conductor Bradley, always may his name, 340.

Daily the bending skies solicit man, 90.
Darest thou now O soul, 595.

Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days, 87.
Day by day for her darlings to her much she added
more, 91.

Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the
way, 417.

Dear friends, who read the world aright, 283.
Dear Sir, Your letter come to han', 486.

Dear Wendell, why need count the years, 523.
Death, thou 'rt a cordial old and rare, 621.
Delicate cluster! flag of teeming life! 589.
Did you ask dulcet rhymes from me? 579.
Down 'mid the tangled roots of things, 496.
Down swept the chill wind from the mountain
peak, 455.

Ef I a song or two could make, 484.
Entranced I saw a vision in the cloud, 518.
Ere, in the northern gale, 11.

Ere pales in Heaven the morning star, 523.
Ere we Gomera cleared, a coward cried, 618.
Ever the poet from the land, 94.

Facing west from California's shores, 560.
Facts respecting an old arm-chair, 372.

Fair isle, that from the fairest of all flowers, 46.
Father of Mercies, Heavenly Friend, 379.
Flag of stars, thick-sprinkled bunting, 580.
Flag of the heroes who left us their glory, 379.
Flood-tide below me! I see you face to face! 553.
Flood-tide of the river, flow on, 553.
For Fancy's gift, 93.

Forgive, O Lord, our severing ways, 351.

For Nature, true and like in every place, 90.
For this true nobleness I seek in vain, 410.
For thought, and not praise, 93.

For weeks the clouds had raked the hills, 332.

For what need I of book or priest, 94.
Freedom all winged expands, 99.

From all the rest I single out you, having a mes-
sage for you, 564.

From east and west across the horizon's edge, 608.
From fall to spring, the russet acorn, 73.
From Paumanok starting I fly like a bird, 571.
From purest wells of English undefiled, 353.

From the hills of home forth looking, far beneath
the tent-like span, 297.

From this fair home behold on either side, 404.
Full of life now, compact, visible, 564.

Gaily bedight, 57.

Give all to love, 85.

Give me the splendid silent sun with all his beams
full-dazzling, 577.

Glooms of the live-oaks, beautiful-braided and
woven, 622.

God makes sech nights, all white an' still, 472.
God sends his teachers unto every age, 415.
God's love and peace be with thee, where, 283.
Gone, gone, -sold and gone, 263.
Good-bye my Fancy! 609.

Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home, 58.
Go, speed the stars of Thought, 93.
Go thou to thy learned task, 94.
Grandmother's mother: her age, I guess, 386.
Great men in the Senate sate, 99.

Great soul, thou sittest with me in my room, 411.
Great Truths are portions of the Soul of man, 411.
Guvener B. is a sensible man, 433.

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Here is the place; right over the hill, 300.

Here lies the gentle humorist, who died, 252.
Here once my step was quickened, 466.

Here's Cooper, who's written six volumes to
show, 447.

Her fingers shame the ivory keys, 304.
Her hands are cold; her face is white, 377.
Her passions the shy violet, 95.

Hers all that earth could promise or bestow, 523.
He spoke of Burns: men rude and rough, 413.
He stood upon the world's broad threshold; wide,
414.

Him strong Genius urged to roam, 29.

His birthday.-Nay, we need not speak, 374.
His instant thought a poet spoke, 94.
His laurels fresh from song and lay, 347.
How beautiful it was, that one bright day, 239.
How cold are thy baths, Apollo! 256.
How dare one say it? 609.

How long will this harp which you once loved to
hear, 383.

How many have gone? was the question of old,

398.

How many lives, made beautiful and sweet, 242.
Ho! workers of the old time styled, 273.

How solemn ! sweeping this dense black tide, 686.
How strange are the freaks of memory! 498.
How strange the sculptures that adorn these
towers! 240.

Hush'd be the camps to-day, 585.

Hushed with broad sunlight lies the hill, 458.

I am not poor, but I am proud, 58.

I am not wiser for my age, 95.

I am owner of the sphere, 73.

I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of
the Soul, 537.

I ask not for those thoughts, that sudden leap,
411.

I believe that the copies of verses I've spun, 394.

I celebrate myself, and sing myself, 533.

I do not count the hours I spend, 90.

I dream'd in a dream I saw a city invincible, 563.

I du believe in Freedom's cause, 435.

I dwelt alone, 51.

I enter, and I see thee in the gloom, 240.

If he be a nobler lover, take him! 528.

If I could put my woods in song, 100.

I framed his tongue to music, 93.
If the red slayer think he slays, 88.
If thought unlock her mysteries, 95.
I gazed upon the glorious sky, 14.

I had a little daughter, 429.

I have a fancy: how shall I bring it, 528.

I have read, in some old, marvellous tale, 106.

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,

560.

I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea, 89.
I heard that you asked for something to prove
this puzzle the New World, 604.

I heard the trailing garments of the Night, 105.
I heard the train's shrill whistle call, 290.

I hear it was charged against me that I sought

to destroy institutions, 562.

I heed not that my earthly lot, 41.

I know not what the future hath, 314.

I left my dreary page and sallied forth, 91.

I lift mine eyes, and all the windows blaze, 241.

I like a church; I like a cowl, 64.

Ill fits the abstemious Muse a crown to weave, 61.

I love the old melodious lays, 280.

I love to hear thine earnest voice, 356.

I love to start out arter night 's begun, 473.

I marvel how mine eye, ranging the Night, 619.
Immortal Love, forever full, 325.

I mourn no more my vanished years, 301.
I myself, myself! behold me! 194.

In a far-away northern county in the placid pas-
toral region, 603.

In an age of fops and toys, 99.

In broad daylight, and at noon, 156.

In calm and cool and silence, once again, 285.
In clouds descending, in midnight sleep, 586.

I need no assurances, I am a man who is pre-
occupied of his own soul, 553.

I need not praise the sweetness of his song, 496.
In Heaven a spirit doth dwell, 41.
In many forms we try, 96.

In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, 61.
In midnight sleep of many a face of anguish, 586.
In my sleep I was fain of their fellowship, fain,
629.

In o'er-strict calyx lingering, 619.

Inquiring, tireless, seeking what is yet unfound,

560.

In the ancient town of Bruges, 118.

In the deep heart of man a poet dwells, 96.

In the greenest of our valleys, 46.

In the heart of the Hills of Life, I know, 612.

In the long, sleepless watches of the night, 257.
In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of
the Pilgrims, 213.

In the old days — a custom laid aside, 323.

In the valley of the Pegnitz, where across broad
meadow-lands, 116.

Into the darkness and hush of night, 257.
In vain we call old notions fudge, 524.

In youth's spring it was my lot, 659.

I pace the sounding sea-beach and behold, 246.

I reached the middle of the mount, 665.

I remember-why, yes! God bless me! and was

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I saw thee on thy bridal day, 39.

I saw the twinkle of white feet, 428.

I see all human wits, 95.

I see amid the fields of Ayr, 256.

I see before me now a traveling army halting, 572.

I shot an arrow into the air, 120.

I sit in the early twilight, 31.

I

spose you wonder ware I be; I can't tell, fer the
soul o' me, 436.

Is thy name Mary, maiden fair? 357.

I stood on the bridge at midnight, 119.

It don't seem hardly right, John, 478.

It fell in the ancient periods, 64.

I thought our love at full, but I did err, 430.
It is done! 312.

It is not what we say or sing, 384.

It is time to be old, 101.

It mounts athwart the windy hill, 499.

I treasure in secret some long, fine hair, 462.

It was a tall young oysterman lived by the river
side, 355.

It was fifty years ago, 211.

It was late in mild October, and the long au
tumnal rain, 278.

It was many and many a year ago, 56.
It was the schooner Hesperus, 107.

It was the season, when through all the land, 235.
It was three slim does and a ten-tined buck in the
bracken lay, 623.

I understand the large hearts of heroes, 541.
I wait and watch; before my eyes, 305.

I wandered lonely where the pine-trees made,
347.

I was asking for something specific and perfect
for my city, 565.

I would the gift I offer here, 282.

I write my name as one, 350.

I wrote some lines once on a time, 356.

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Listen, my children, and you shall hear, 233.
Little I ask; my wants are few, 371.

Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown,
61.

Long I followed happy guides, 84.

Long, too long America, 578.

Look off, dear Love, across the sallow sands, 616.

Look out! Look out, boys! Clear the track! 405.
Lord of all being! throned afar, 377.
Lo! 't is a gala night, 47.

Love, 91.

Low and mournful be the strain, 99.

Maiden! with the meek, brown eyes, 112.

Maud Muller on a summer's day, 289.

Me imperturbe, standing at ease in Nature, 560.
Men say the sullen instrument, 498.
Men! whose boast it is that

ye, 414.

Merrily swinging on brier and weed, 23.
Mine and yours, 84.

My aunt! my dear unmarried aunt! 357.
My coachman, in the moonlight there, 461.

My Dawn? my Dawn? How if it never break?
618.

My day began not till the twilight fell, 524.
My heart, I cannot still it, 527.

My heart was heavy, for its trust had been, 275.

My Love, I have no fear that thou shouldst die,
411.

Myself and mine gymnastic ever, 567.

Nay, blame me not; I might have spared, 380.
Nay, do not dream, designer dark, 609.
'Neath blue-bell or streamer, 39.

Next drive we o'er the slimy-weeded sea, 618.
New England's poet, rich in love as years, 523.
Night on the prairies, 564.

No Berserk thirst of blood had they, 345.
No fate, save by the victim's fault, is low, 91.
No more these simple flowers belong, 287.
Not as all other women are, 410.
Not in the solitude, 17.

Not in the world of light alone, 369.

Not the pilot has charged himself, 587.

Not to exclude or demarcate, or pick out evils,

609.

Not unto us who did but seek, 313.

Not without envy Wealth at times must look, 346.
Now speaks mine other heart with cheerier seem-
ing, 618.

Now Time throws off his cloak again, 103.

O Cæsar, we who are about to die, 248.

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
581.

O'er all the hill-tops, 149.

O'er the bare woods, whose outstretched hands,
292.

O even-handed Nature! we confess, 382.

O fairest of the rural maids! 9.

Of all the rides since the birth of time, 296.

O Friends! with whom my feet have trod, 314.
Often I think of the beautiful town, 210.

Of that blithe throat of thine from arctic bleak
and blank, 606.

Oft have I seen at some cathedral door, 240.
Oh! could I hope the wise and pure in heart, 7.
Oh for one hour of youthful joy! 366.

Oh, slow to smite and swift to spare, 31.
Oh what is Heaven but the fellowship, 92.

O lady fair, these silks of mine are beautiful and
rare, 259.

O little feet! that such long years, 239.

O lonely bay of Trinity, 301.

O Love Divine, that stooped to share, 377.

O Love! O Life! Our faith and sight, 326.

O magnet-South! O glistening perfumed South!
my South! 565.

O moonlight deep and tender, 412.

O Mother Earth! upon thy lap, 260.

O mother of a mighty race, 21.

Onaway! Awake, beloved! 184.

On bravely through the sunshine and the show-
ers! 92.

Once git a smell o' musk into a draw, 480.
Once it smiled a silent dell, 44.

Once more, O all-adjusting Death! 352.
Once more on yonder laurelled height, 304.

Once this soft turf, this rivulet's sands, 20.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered,
weak and weary, 48.

One broad, white sail in Spezzia's treacherous
bay, 364.

One of your old-world stories, Uncle John, 24.
One's-self I sing, a simple separate person, 587.
On prince or bride no diamond stone, 95.
On sunny slope and beechen swell, 103.
On the beach at night, 590.
On the isle of Penikese, 342.

On woodlands ruddy with autumn, 30.
Opening one day a book of mine, 528.

O poet rare and old! 285.

Or, haply, how if this contrarious West, 618.
O sight of pity, shame and dole! 588.

O star of France, 596.

O star of morning and of liberty! 241.
O tenderly the haughty day, 88.
Others may praise what they like, 581.

O Trade! O Trade! would thou wert dead! 612.
Our band is few but true and tried, 17.
Our fathers' God! from out whose hand, 346.
Our fellow-countrymen in chains! 262.
Our Friend, our Brother, and our Lord, 327.
Our Lord and Master of us all, 326.

Our love is not a fading, earthly flower, 412.
Our ship lay tumbling in an angry sea, 489.
Out of the cradle endlessly rocking, 557.
Out of the hills of Habersham, 621.

Out of the rolling ocean the crowd came a drop
gently to me, 578.

Over his head were the maple buds, 94.
Over his keys the musing organist, 453.
Over our manhood bend the skies, 453.
Over sea, hither from Niphon, 567.

Over the carnage rose prophetic a voice, 578.
Over the monstrous shambling sea, 628.

Over the Western sea hither from Niphon come,
567.

O, well for the fortunate soul, 100.

O what are heroes, prophets, men, 96.

O ye dead Poets, who are living still, 252.

Pale genius roves alone, 93.

Phoebus, sitting one day in a laurel-tree's shade,
130.

Pipes of the misty moorlands, 299.

Ploughman, whose gnarly hand yet kindly
wheeled, 617.

Poet and friend of poets, if thy glass, 352.

Poet! I come to touch thy lance with mine, 253.
Poets to come! orators, singers, musicians to
come! 560.

Poor and inadequate the shadow-play, 347.

Quicksand years that whirl me I know not
whither, 580.

Reader - gentle - if so be, 388.
Recorders ages hence, 561.

Rivermouth Rocks are fair to see, 310.
Romance, who loves to nod and sing, 40.
Roomy Eternity, 91.

Saint Augustine! well hast thou said, 155.
Science! true daughter of Old Time thou art! 40.
Set not thy foot on graves, 80.

She gathered at her slender waist, 402.
She gave me all that woman can, 528.

She has gone, she has left us in passion and
pride, 378.

She paints with white and red the moors, 91.
Shines the last age, the next with hope is seen, 95.
Shot gold, maroon and violet, dazzling silver,
emerald, fawn, 608.

Should you ask me, whence these stories? 158.

Shun passion, fold the hands of thrift, 92.
Shut not your doors to me proud libraries, 579.
Simple and fresh and fair from winter's close
emerging, 607.

Singing my days, 590.

-

Six thankful weeks, — and let it be, 65.
Slow toiling upward from the misty vale, 386.
Small is the theme of the following Chant, 587.
Small the theme of my chant, 587.

So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn, 282.
Solemnly, mournfully, 121.

Some die too late and some too soon, 348.
Some of your hurts you have cured, 94.
Somewhat back from the village street, 120.

So nigh is grandeur to our dust, 99.

So when there came a mighty cry of Land! 619.
Speak and tell us, our Ximena, looking north-

ward far away, 277.

Speak! speak! thou fearful guest! 108.

Spirit that breathest through my lattice, thou, 15.
Spirit that form'd this scene, 605.
Stars of the summer night! 111.
States! 561.

Statesman, I thank thee! and, if yet dissent, 303.
Stay, stay at home, my heart, and rest, 255.
Still sits the school-house by the road, 337.
Still thirteen years: 'tis autumn now, 462.
Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which
needs, 3.

Stream of my fathers! sweetly still, 264.
Strong, simple, silent are the [steadfast] laws,

530.

Summer's last sun nigh unto setting shines, 353.
Superb and sole, upon a plumèd spray, 620.
Sweetest of all childlike dreams, 311.

Take this kiss upon the brow! 41.
Teach me your mood, O patient stars! 91.
Tears! tears! tears! 587.

Tell me, maiden, dost thou use, 59.
Tell me not, in mournful numbers, 104.
Tell men what they knew before, 92.
Test of the poet is knowledge of love, 95.
Thank Heaven! the crisis, 55.
Thanks in old age- thanks ere I go, 608.
Thanks to the morning light, 82.
That book is good, 93.

That each should in his house abide, 92.

That's a rather bold speech, my Lord Bacon, 529.
The Ages come and go, 242.

The autumn-time has come, 337.

The bard and mystic held me for their own, 92.
The blast from Freedom's Northern hills, upon

its Southern way, 270.

The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see, 41.

The commonplace I sing, 608.

The cordage creaks and rattles in the wind, 418.
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary, 111.
The day is done, and the darkness, 115.
The Dervish whined to Said, 92.
Thee for my recitative, 604.

The elder folks shook hands at last, 327.

The electric nerve, whose instantaneous thrill. 50.
The free winds told him what they knew, 93.

The friends that are, and friends that were, 380.
The gale that wrecked you on the sand, 94.
The gods talk in the breath of the woods, 92.
The green grass is bowing, 59.

The groves were God's first temples, 12.
The harp at Nature's advent strung, 327.

The hound was cuffed, the hound was kicked,
611.

The innocent, sweet Day is dead, 611.

The land, that, from the rule of kings, 352.

The lights are out, and gone are all the guests,
243.

The little gate was reached at last, 461.

The lords of life, the lords of life, 77.
The minstrel of the classic lay, 403.
The mountain and the squirrel, 73.
The mountains glitter in the snow, 367.
The night is come, but not too soon, 104.
The noble sire fallen on evil days, 598.
The pines were dark on Ramoth hill, 303.

The piping of our slender, peaceful reeds, 378.
The Play is over. While the light, 404.

The prairie-grass dividing, its special odor breath-
ing, 563.

The proudest now is but my peer, 285.
There

are some qualities- some incorporate
things, 47.

There are truths you Americans need to be told,

448.

There came a youth upon the earth, 412.

There comes Emerson first, whose rich words,
every one, 442.

There comes Poe, with his raven, like Barnaby
Rudge, 449.

There is a quiet spirit in these woods, 102.

There is Bryant, as quiet, as cool, and as digni-
fied, 444.

There is Hawthorne, with genius so shrinking
and rare, 446.

There is Lowell, who's striving Parnassus to
climb, 452.

There is no flock, however watched and tended,
149.

There is no great and no small, 73.

There is Whittier, whose swelling and vehement
heart, 445.

There's Holmes, who is matchless among you for
wit, 452.

There was a child went forth every day, 532.

There was a young man in Boston town, 360.
There was never a leaf on bush or tree, 456.
The rising moon has hid the stars, 111.
The river hemmed with leaning trees, 341.
The robin laughed in the orange-tree, 620.
The robins sang in the orchard, the buds into
blossoms grew, 336.

The rounded world is fair to see, 77.

The sea awoke at midnight from its sleep, 246.
The sea is the road of the bold, 94.

These are the gardens of the Desert, these, 18.
The seed that wasteful autumn cast, 365.
These pearls of thought in Persian gulfs were
bred, 529.

The shades of night were falling fast, 112.

The shadows round the inland sea, 281.
The skies they were ashen and sober, 51.
The snow had begun in the gloaming, 459.
The South-land boasts its teeming cane, 281.
The South-wind brings, 77.

The Sphinx is drowsy, 71.

The Star of Fame shines down upon the river,
246, note.

The stars of Night contain the glittering Day,
611.

The storm and peril overpast, 348.

The subtle power in perfume found, 351.

The sun athwart the cloud thought it no sin, 91.

The sunlight glitters keen and bright, 266.

The sun set, but set not his hope, 92.

The sun that brief December day, 315.

The tide rises, the tide falls, 256.

The time has been that these wild solitudes, 5.

The wind is roistering out of doors, 500.

The work of the Lord by night, 98.

The works of human artifice soon tire, 104.

The young Endymion sleeps Endymion's sleep,

246.

They put their finger on their lip, 96.
Thick-sprinkled bunting! flag of stars! 580.
Thine eyes still shined for me, though far, 60.
Think me not unkind and rude, 62.

This ancient silver bowl of mine, it tells of good
old times, 359.

This is our place of meeting; opposite, 399.
This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling, 114.
This is the forest primeval. The murmuring
pines and the hemlocks, 121.

This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, 368.
This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the
wordless, 606.

This is your month, the month of 'perfect days,'

402.

This shining moment is an edifice, 91.
Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, 16.
Thou foolish Hafiz! Say, do churls, 95.
Though loath to grieve, 80.

Though love repine, and reason chafe, 95.
Though old the thought and oft exprest, 499.

Thou Mother with thy equal brood, 598.

Thou shouldst have sung the swan-song for the
choir, 407.

Thou that from the heavens art, 149.

Thou, too, hast left us. While with heads bowed
low, 408.

Thou unrelenting Past! 15.

Thou wast all that to me, love, 45.

Thou wast the fairest of all man-made things, 530
Thou who hast slept all night upon the storm, 603
Thou who wouldst see the lovely and the wild, 9
Thou, who wouldst wear the name, 29.

Thou wouldst be loved?-then let thy heart, 46.
Thrash away, you'll hev to rattle, 431.

Three Silences there are: the first of speech, 253.
Thy love thou sentest oft to me, 423.
Thy summer voice, Musketaquit, 87.
Thy trivial harp will never please, 81.

"T is like stirring living embers when, at eighty,
one remembers, 389.

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