Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Meriam, Flint, Burly, dozing humble-bee, 63. But Nature whistled with all her winds, 91. By the rude bridge that arched the flood, 63. Champion of those who groan beneath, 260. Columbus stands in the night alone, and, passing Come, dear old comrade, you and I, 385. Come, spread your wings, as I spread mine, 363. Come up from the fields, father, here's a letter Conductor Bradley, always may his name, 340. Facing west from California's shores, 560. Fair isle, that from the fairest of all flowers, 46. Forgive, O Lord, our severing ways, 351. For Nature, true and like in every place, 90. For weeks the clouds had raked the hills, 332. Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home, 58. Go thou to thy learned task, 94. Great soul, thou sittest with me in my room, 411. Half of my life is gone, and I have let, 113. Has there any old fellow got mixed with the boys? Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? 73. 369. Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard! 280. Here are old trees, tall oaks, and gnarled pines, 20. Here is the place; right over the hill, 300. Here lies the gentle humorist, who died, 252. Here's Cooper, who's written six volumes to Her fingers shame the ivory keys, 304. Hers all that earth could promise or bestow, 523. 414. Him strong Genius urged to roam, 29. His birthday. -Nay, we need not speak, 374. How dare one say it? 609. How long will this harp which you once loved to How many have gone? was the question of old, How many lives, made beautiful and sweet, 242. How solemn ! sweeping this dense black tide, 686. 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 I ask not for those thoughts, that sudden leap, 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. I framed his tongue to music, 93. 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 the trailing garments of the Night, 105. 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. I mourn no more my vanished years, 301. In a far-away northern county in the placid pas- In an age of fops and toys, 99. In broad daylight, and at noon, 156. In calm and cool and silence, once again, 285. I need no assurances, I am a man who is pre- I need not praise the sweetness of his song, 496. In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, 61. In o'er-strict calyx lingering, 619. Inquiring, tireless, seeking what is yet unfound, 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. 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 Is thy name Mary, maiden fair? 357. I stood on the bridge at midnight, 119. It don't seem hardly right, John, 478. I thought our love at full, but I did err, 430. 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- It was fifty years ago, 211. It was late in mild October, and the long au- It was many and many a year ago, 56. It was the season, when through all the land, 235. I understand the large hearts of heroes, 541. I wandered lonely where the pine-trees made, I was asking for something specific and perfect I would the gift I offer here, 282. I write my name as one, 350. I wrote some lines once on a time, 356. John Brown of Ossawatomie spake on his dying Joy, shipmate, joy! 596. Kind solace in a dying hour! 36. Lay down the axe; fling by the spade, 24. Lift again the stately emblem on the Bay State's Ligeia! Ligeia! 40. Listen, my children, and you shall hear, 233. Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown, 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. 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! whose boast it is that ye, 414. Merrily swinging on brier and weed, 23. My aunt! my dear unmarried aunt! 357. My coachman, in the moonlight there, 461. My Dawn? my Dawn? How if it never break? My day began not till the twilight fell, 524. My heart was heavy, for its trust had been, 275. My Love, I have no fear that thou shouldst die, Myself and mine gymnastic ever, 567. Nay, blame me not; I might have spared, 380. No Berserk thirst of blood had they, 345. Not in the solitude, 17. Not in the world of light alone, 369. 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 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, O'er all the hill-tops, 149. O'er the bare woods, whose outstretched hands, 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. Of that blithe throat of thine from arctic bleak Oft have I seen at some cathedral door, 240. 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 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! 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 more, O all-adjusting Death! 352. Once this soft turf, this rivulet's sands, 20. Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, One broad, white sail in Spezzia's treacherous One of your old-world stories, Uncle John, 24. On the isle of Penikese, 342. On woodlands ruddy with autumn, 30. O poet rare and old! 285. Or, haply, how if this contrarious West, 618. O star of France, 596. O star of morning and of liberty! 241. O Trade! O Trade! would thou wert dead! 612. Our love is not a fading, earthly flower, 412. Out of the rolling ocean the crowd came a drop Over his head were the maple buds, 94. Over the carnage rose prophetic a voice, 578. Over the Western sea hither from Niphon come, 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, Pipes of the misty moorlands, 299. Ploughman, whose gnarly hand yet kindly Poet and friend of poets, if thy glass, 352. Poet! I come to touch thy lance with mine, 253. Poor and inadequate the shadow-play, 347. Saint Augustine! well hast thou said, 155. She gathered at her slender waist, 402. She has gone, she has left us in passion and She paints with white and red the moors, 91. Should you ask me, whence these stories? 158. Shun passion, fold the hands of thrift, 92. Singing my days, 590. and let it be, 65. Slow toiling upward from the misty vale, 386. So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn, 282. Some die too late and some too soon, 348. So when there came a mighty cry of Land! 619. Speak! speak! thou fearful guest! 108. Spirit that breathest through my lattice, thou, 15. Statesman, I thank thee! and, if yet dissent, 303. Stream of my fathers! sweetly still, 264. Summer's last sun nigh unto setting shines, 353. Take this kiss upon the brow! 41. Tell me, maiden, dost thou use, 59. That each should in his house abide, 92. That's a rather bold speech, my Lord Bacon, 529. The autumn-time has come, 337. The bard and mystic held me for their own, 92. The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see, 41. The cordage creaks and rattles in the wind, 418. The elder folks shook hands at last, 327. The electric nerve, whose instantaneous thrill 50. The friends that are, and friends that were, 380. The groves were God's first temples, 12. The hound was cuffed, the hound was kicked, 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, The little gate was reached at last, 461. The lords of life, the lords of life, 77. The piping of our slender, peaceful reeds, 378. The proudest now is but my peer, 285. There are some qualities-some incorporate There are truths you Americans need to be told, There came a youth upon the earth, 412. There comes Emerson first, whose rich words, There comes Poe, with his raven, like Barnaby There is a quiet spirit in these woods, 102. There is Bryant, as quiet, as cool, and as digni- There is Hawthorne, with genius so shrinking There is Lowell, who's striving Parnassus to There is no flock, however watched and tended, There is no great and no small, 73. There is Whittier, whose swelling and vehement There's Holmes, who is matchless among you for There was a child went forth every day, 532. There was a young man in Boston town, 360. The rounded world is fair to see, 77. The sea awoke at midnight from its sleep, 246. These are the gardens of the Desert, these, 18. The shades of night were falling fast, 112. The shadows round the inland sea, 281. The Sphinx is drowsy, 71. The Star of Fame shines down upon the river, The stars of Night contain the glittering Day, 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 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. This ancient silver bowl of mine, it tells of good This is our place of meeting; opposite, 399. This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, 368. This is your month, the month of 'perfect days,' This shining moment is an edifice, 91. Though love repine, and reason chafe, 95. Thou Mother with thy equal brood, 598. Thou shouldst have sung the swan-song for the Thou that from the heavens art, 149. Thou, too, hast left us. While with heads bowed Thou unrelenting Past! 15. Thou wast all that to me, love, 45. Thou wast the fairest of all man-made things, 530 Thou wouldst be loved?- then let thy heart, 46, Three Silences there are: the first of speech, 253. "T is like stirring living embers when, at eighty, |