If thou must love me, let it be for nought.
If thou shouldst ever come by choice or chance.
If thou wilt ease thine heart.

If to be absent were to be

If to grow old in Heaven is to grow young.

In a drear-nighted December

In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes.
In my sleep I was fain of their fellowship,
fain

In the beginning there was nought

In the hour of my distress

VI

VI

"Is there anybody there?" said the traveller
Into the Devil tavern

Into the woods my Master went

Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead

It is not to be thought of that the flood

It was her first sweet child, her heart's de-

It's hard to know if you're alive or dead

I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking
Jenny kissed me when we met

Jesu, Lover of my soul,

John Anderson my jo, John

John Gilpin was a citizen

King Charles, and who'll do him right now?

Let folly praise that fancy loves, I praise and
love that Child .

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled
shore.

Like souls that balance joy and pain

Like to the clear in highest sphere

Little Ellie sits alone.

clown

Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked

Look in my face; my name is Might-have-

Love, dearest Lady, such as I would speak

Methought I saw my late espoused Saint

Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour!

Mine be a cot beside the hill;

Morning, evening, noon and night

Mortality, behold and fear!

VI

Most glorious Lord of Life! that, on this day
Mother, I cannot mind my wheel;

Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,

Music, when soft voices die,.

162

My dear and only love, I pray

My good blade carves the casques of men,.
My hair is gray, but not with years,

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not
here;.

My Love in her attire doth show her wit,

My loved, my honored, much-respected friend,

My lute, be as thou wast when thou didst

My silks and fine array,

My soul goes clad in gorgeous things,
My soul, sit thou a patient looker-on;
My soul, there is a country

.

My spirit is too weak-mortality
My true love hath my heart, and I have his
Mysterious Night! when our first parent knew
Nay, Traveller! rest. This lonely Yew-tree
stands

Near where the royal victims fell

No longer mourn for me when I am dead
No more from out the sunset

No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,—

No! those days are gone away

Noon-and the north-west sweeps the empty

road,

V

102

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,

Not I myself know all my love for thee:

Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is
done;

O Death! thou tyrant fell and bloody!.
O friend I know not which way I must look
O friends! with whom my feet have trod

O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers,

wrung

O have ye na heard o' the fause Sakelde?

O land of Promise! from what Pisgah's height.

IV

164

O liberty! with profitless endeavour.

IV

103

O love that is not love, but dear, so dear! .
O love, this morn when the sweet nightingale .
O love, turn from the unchanging sea, and

"O Mary, go and call the cattle home,

O may I join the choir invisible.

O Mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O my Dark Rosaleen.

O say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,

O waly, waly, up the bank

28

O, well for him whose will is strong!

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms

"O where ha'e ye been, Lord Randal, my

Oh, England is a pleasant place for them that's