man is, 616.

A fleet with flags arrayed, 337.

After so long an absence, 295.

A gentle boy, with soft and silken locks, 295.
A handful of red sand, from the hot clime, 108.
Ah, how short are the days! How soon the
night overtakes us, 270.

Ah, Love, 43.

Ah me! ah me! when thinking of the years,
637.

Ah! thou moon that shinest, 42.

Ah! what pleasant visions haunt me, 104.
A little bird in the air, 230.

Allah gives light in darkness, 618.

All are architects of Fate, 108.

All are sleeping, weary heart, 36, 37.

All day has the battle raged, 234.

All houses wherein men have lived and died,
188.

All the old gods are dead, 226.

Am I a king, that I should call my own, 343.
A mill-stone and the human heart are driven
ever round, 616.

A mist was driving down the British Channel,
188.

Among the many lives that I have known, 319.
An angel with a radiant face, 629.
And King Olaf heard the cry, 219.

And now, behold! as at the approach of morn-
ing, 633.

And thou, O River of To-morrow, flowing, 321.
And when the kings were in the field,

squadrons in array, 595.

And whither goest thou, gentle sigh, 621.
Annie of Tharaw, my true love of old, 614.
An old man in a lodge within a park, 315.
Arise, O righteous Lord, 520.

their

As a fond mother, when the day is o'er, 318.
As a pale phantom with a lamp, 352.
A soldier of the Union mustered out, 317.

As one who long hath fled with panting breath,
351.

As one who, walking in the twilight gloom,

99.

As the birds come in the Spring, 348.
As the dim twilight shrouds, 648.
As treasures that men seek, 587.
As unto the bow the cord is, 135.

At anchor in Hampton Roads we lay, 202.
At Atri, in Abruzzo, a small town, 245.
At Drontheim, Olaf the King, 227.

At La Chaudeau, - 't is long since then, 631.
At Stralsund, by the Baltic Sea, 252.
At the foot of the mountain height, 623.
A vision as of crowded city streets, 315.

Awake, O north-wind, 368.

A wind came up out of the sea, 199.
A youth, light-hearted and content, 613.
Barabbas is my name, 400.

Baron Castine of St. Castine, 259.

Beautiful lily, dwelling by still rivers, 287.
Beautiful valley! through whose verdant
meads, 325.

Becalmed upon the sea of Thought, 349.
Behold! a giant am I, 347.

Bell! thou soundest merrily, 611.
Beside the ungathered rice he lay, 20.
Between the dark and the daylight, 201.

Beware! the Israelite of old, who tore, 23.
Black are the moors before Kazan, 639.
Black shadows fall, 184.

Blind Bartimeus at the gates, 17, 391.
Bright Sun! that, flaming through the mid-day

sky, 652.

Build me straight, O worthy Master, 99.
Burn, O evening hearth, and waken, 288.
But yesterday these few and hoary leaves, 652.
By his evening fire the artist, 110.
By the shore of Gitche Gumee, 162.
By yon still river, where the wave, 648.

Can it be the sun descending, 139.
Centuries old are the mountains, 304.

Christ to the young man said: Yet one thing
more, 113.

Clear fount of light! my native land on high, 593.
Clear honor of the liquid element, 652.

Cold, cold is the north wind and rude is the

blast, 645.

Come from thy caverns dark and deep, 305.
Come, my beloved, 367.

Come, O Death, so silent flying, 597.
Come, old friend! sit down and listen, 67.
Come to me, O ye children, 200.

Dark is the morning with mist; in the narrow
mouth of the harbor, 345.

Dead he lay among his books, 342.
Dear child! how radiant on thy mother's knee,

60.

Don Nuno, Count of Lara, 594.

Dost thou see on the rampart's height, 341.
Dowered with all celestial gifts, 298.

Down from yon distant mountain height, 639.
Downward through the evening twilight, 119.

Each heart has its haunted chamber, 294.
Even as the Blessed, at the final summons, 634.
Evermore a sound shall be, 303.

Every flutter of the wing, 302.
Eyes so tristful, eyes so tristful, 597.

Far and wide among the nations, 155.
Filled is Life's goblet to the brim, 17.
Flooded by rain and snow, 304.

Flow on, sweet river! like his verse, 357.
Forms of saints and kings are standing, 615.
For thee was a house built, 618.

Forth from the curtain of clouds, from the tent
of purple and scarlet, 182.

Forth rolled the Rhine-stream strong and
deep, 653.

Forth upon the Gitche Gumee, 130.

Four by the clock and yet not day, 354.
Four limpid lakes, four Naiades, 351.
From the outskirts of the town, 296.
From the river's plashy bank, 648.

From this high portal, where upsprings, 630.
Full of wrath was Hiawatha, 151.

Gaddi mi fece il Ponte Vecchio sono, 318.
Garlands upon his grave, 324.

Gentle Spring! in sunshine clad, 621.
Gently swaying to and fro, 302.

Give me of your bark, O Birch-tree, 128.
Gloomy and dark art thou, O chief of the
mighty Omahas, 64.

Glove of black in white hand bare, 597.
God sent his messenger the rain, 462.
God sent his Singers upon earth, 112.
Good night! good night, beloved, 42.
Guarding the mountains around, 305.

Hadst thou stayed, I must have fled, 257.
Half of my life is gone, and I have let, 68.
Hark, hark, 621.

Haste and hide thee, 303.

Hast thou seen that lordly castle, 611.
Have I dreamed ? or was it real, 186.
Have you read in the Talmud of old, 200.
He is dead, the beautiful youth, 291.
He is gone to the desert land! 638.
Hence away, begone, begone, 655.
Here in a little rustic hermitage, 322.
Here lies the gentle humorist, who died, 318.
Here rest the weary oar!-soft airs, 647.
High on their turreted cliffs, 304.
Honor be to Mudjekeewis! 116.
How beautiful is the rain, 59.

How beautiful it was, that one bright day, 289.
How cold are thy baths, Apollo! 344.

How I started up in the night, in the night, 617.
How many lives, made beautiful and sweet,

291.

If perhaps these rhymes of mine should sound
not well in strangers' ears, 616.

If thou art sleeping, maiden, 52, 637.

I, Gonzalo de Berceo, in the gentle summer-tide,
653.

I have a vague remembrance, 296.

I have read, in some old, marvelous tale, 6.
I hear along our street, 628.

I heard a brooklet gushing, 610.
I heard a voice, that cried, 111.

I heard the bells on Christmas Day, 289.
I heard the trailing garments of the Night, 2.
I know a maiden fair to see, 611.

I lay upon the headland-height, and listened,
287.

I leave you, ye cold mountain chains, 630.

I lift mine eyes, and all the windows blaze, 2.
I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls,
16.

In Attica thy birthplace should have been, 314.
In broad daylight, and at noon, 191.
In dark fens of the Dismal Swamp, 21.
In his chamber, weak and dying, 58.
In his lodge beside a river, 160.
In Mather's Magnalia Christi, 187.
In Ocean's wide domains, 22.

In St. Luke's Gospel we are told, 346.
Intelligence and courtesy not always are com
bined, 616.

In that building long and low, 195.
In that desolate land and lone, 336.
In that province of our France, 655.
In the ancient town of Bruges, 54.
In the convent of Drontheim, 235.
In the hamlet desolate, 656.

In the heroic days when Ferdinand, 236,
In the long, sleepless watches of the night, 323.
In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry
old and brown, 54.

In the old churchyard of his native town, 348.
In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land
of the Pilgrims, 165.

In the valley of the Pegnitz, where across
broad meadow-lands, 57.

In the Valley of the Vire, 192.

In the village churchyard she lies, 189.
In the workshop of Hephæstus, 298.
In those days said Hiawatha, 145.

In those days the Evil Spirits, 147.
Into the city of Kambalu, 247.

Into the darkness and the hush of night, 348.
Into the open air John Alden, perplexed and
bewildered, 171.

Into the Silent Land, 612.

I

pace the sounding sea-beach and behold, 315
I said unto myself, if I were dead, 317.

I sat by my window one night, 650.

I saw, as in a dream sublime, 62.

I saw the long line of the vacant shore, 317.

I see amid the fields of Ayr, 344.

I shot an arrow into the air, 68.

Is it so far from thee, 342.

I sleep, but my heart awaketh, 366.

I stand again on the familiar shore, 314.

I stand beneath the tree, whose branches shade,

321.

I stood on the bridge at midnight, 63.

I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch,

9.

Italy Italy! thou who 'rt doomed to wear,
635.

I thought this Pen would arise, 344.

It is autumn; not without, 351.

It is good to rhyming go, 656.

It is the Harvest Moon! On gilded vanes, 320.

I trust that somewhere and somehow, 249.
It was Einar Tamberskelver, 233.

It was fifty years ago, 199.

It was Sir Christopher Gardiner, 284.
It was the schooner Hesperus, 13.

It was the season, when through all the land,
240.

I wish to make my sermon brief, to shorten
my oration, 653,

Janus am I; oldest of potentates, 349.
Joy and Temperance and Repose, 616.
Just above yon sandy bar, 104.

Just in the gray of the dawn, as the mists up-
rose from the meadows, 174.

King Christian stood by the lofty mast, 607.
King Ring with his queen to the banquet did
fare, 599.

King Solomon, before his palace gate, 264.

Labor with what zeal we will, 203.

Lady, how can it chance yet this we see, 636.
Lady! thine upward flight, 652.

Laugh of the mountain !-lyre of bird and tree!
593.

Leafless are the trees; their purple branches,
195.

Let him who will, by force or fraud innate, 631.
Let me go warm and merry still, 651.

Let nothing disturb thee, 597.

Like two cathedral towers these stately pines,
348.

Listen, my children, and you shall hear, 207.
Little sweet wine of Jurançon, 632.

Live I, so live I, 616.

Lo! in the painted oriel of the West, 69.
Longing already to search in and round, 634.
Lord, what am I, that, with unceasing care,

593.

Loud he sang the psalm of David, 22.
Loud sang the Spanish cavalier, 48.
Loud the angry wind was wailing, 226.
Loudly the sailors cheered, 231.

Love, love, what wilt thou with this heart of
mine? 632.

Lull me to sleep, ye winds, whose fitful sound,
317.

Lutheran, Popish, Calvinistic, all these creeds
and doctrines three, 616.

Maiden! with the meek, brown eyes, 18.
Man-like is it to fall into sin, 616.
Many a day and wasted year, 649,
Meanwhile the stalwart Miles Standish was

marching steadily northward, 178.
Month after month passed away, and in Au-
tumn the ships of the merchants, 180,
Most beautiful, most gentle ! yet how lost, 647.

Mounted on Kyrat strong and fleet, 338.
Much it behoveth, 620.

My beloved is white and ruddy, 366.

My soul its secret has, my life too has its mys
tery, 632.

My undefiled is but one, 367,

My way is on the bright blue sea, 650.

Neglected record of a mind neglected, 360.
Never shall souls like these, 307.

Never stoops the soaring vulture, 156.
Night comes stealing from the East, 654.
Night rests in beauty on Mont Alto, 646.
Nine sisters, beautiful in form and face, 319.
No more shall I see, 600.

Northward over Drontheim, 230.

No sound of wheels or hoof-beat breaks, 325.
Not fashioned out of gold, like Hera's throne,

297.

Nothing that is shall perish utterly, 537.
Nothing the greatest artist can conceive, 635.
Nothing was heard in the room but the hurry-
ing pen of the stripling, 166.

Not without fire can any workman mould, 635.
Now from all King Olaf's farms, 221.
Nowhere such a devious stream, 328.
Now the zephyrs diminish the cold, and the
year being ended, 643.

Now Time throws off his cloak again, 621.

O amiable solitude, 656.

O Cæsar, we who are about to die, 310.

O curfew of the setting sun! O bells of Lynn!
290.

O'er all the hill-tops, 617.

O faithful, indefatigable tides, 360.
Of Edenhall, the youthful Lord, 613.
Of Prometheus, how undaunted, 185.
Often I think of the beautiful town, 194.
Oft have I seen at some cathedral door, 292.
Oft I remember those whom I have known,

356.

O gift of God! O perfect day, 202.
O gladsome light, 418.

O hemlock tree! O hemlock tree! how faith-
ful are thy branches, 614.

Oh, give me back the days when loose and free,
636.

Oh, how blest are ye whose toils are ended, 616.
Oh let the soul her slumbers break, 587.
Oh that a Song would sing itself to me, 322.
Oh, the long and dreary Winter, 158.
Olaf the King, one summer morn, 223.
Olger the Dane and Desiderio, 265,

O Light serene! present in him who breathes,

652.

O little feet! that such long years, 203, V
O Lord! who seest, from yon starry height

593.

O lovely river of Yvette, 337.
Once into a quiet village, 110.
Once more, once more, Inarimé, 336.
Once on a time, some centuries ago, 275.
Once the Emperor Charles of Spain, 189.
Once upon Iceland's solitary strand, 323.
One Autumn night, in Sudbury town, 204.
One day, Haroun Al Raschid read, 339,

One hundred years ago, and something more,
255.

One morning, all alone, 415.

One morning, on the sea shore as I strayed, 657.
One summer morning, when the sun was hot, 209.
On King Olaf's bridal night, 224.

On St. Bavon's tower, commanding, 337.
On sunny slope and beechen swell, 10.
On the cross the dying Saviour, 615.
On the gray sea-sands, 232.

On the green little isle of Inchkenneth, 339.
On the Mountains of the Prairie, 115.
On the shores of Gitche Gumee, 132.
On the top of a mountain I stand, 48.

O precious evenings! all too swiftly sped, 112.
O River of Yesterday, with current swift, 321.
O star of morning and of liberty, 293.
O sweet illusions of Song, 294.
Othere, the old sea-captain, 198.
O traveller, stay thy weary feet, 359.
Our God, a Tower of Strength is He, 463.
Out of childhood into manhood, 121.
Out of the bosom of the Air, 202.
O weathercock on the village spire, 347.
O ye dead Poets, who are living still, 319.

Rabbi Ben Levi, on the Sabbath, read, 214.
Rio Verde, Rio Verde, 594.
Rise up, my love, my fair one, 366.
River that in silence windest, 16.
River, that stealest with such silent pace, 315.
Robert of Sicily, brother of Pope Urbane, 215.
Round Autumn's mouldering urn, 646.

Sadly as some old medieval knight, 357.
Safe at anchor in Drontheim bay, 229.
Saint Augustine! well hast thou said, 186.
St. Botolph's Town! Hither across the plains,

321.

Sleep, comrades, sleep and rest, 359.
Slowly, slowly up the wall, 440.

Slowly the hour-hand of the clock moves round,
320.

So from the bosom of darkness our days come
roaring and gleaming, 360.

Soft through the silent air descend the feathery
snow-flakes, 360.

Solemnly, mournfully, 69.

Some day, some day, 597.

Something the heart must have to cherish, 618,
Somewhat back from the village street, 67.
So the strong will prevailed, and Alden went on
his errand, 168.

Southward with fleet of ice, 105.

Spake full well, in language quaint and olden,

5.

Speak! speak! thou fearful guest, 11.
Spring is coming, birds are twittering, forests
leaf, and smiles the sun, 599.

Stars of the summer night, 26.

Stay, stay at home, my heart, and rest, 340.
Still through Egypt's desert places, 356.
Stretched in thy shadows I rehearse, 655.
Strike the sails! King Olaf said, 233.

Svend Dyring he rideth adown the glade, 32.
Sweet as the tender fragrance that survives. 41.
Sweet babe! true portrait of thy father's face,
622.

Sweet chimes! that in the loneliness of night,

354.

Sweet faces, that from pictured casements lean,

322.

Sweet the memory is to me, 326.

Taddeo Gaddi built me. I am old, 318.
Take them, O Death! and bear away, 112.
Tell me not, in mournful numbers, 3.
Tell me, tell me, thou pretty bee, 658.
The Ages come and go, 522.

The Archbishop, whom God loved in high de
gree, 622.

The battle is fought and won, 280.

The brooklet came from the mountain, 26.
The ceaseless rain is falling fast, 324.

The course of my long life hath reached at last,

636.

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary, 16.
The day is done, and the darkness, 61.
The day is ending, 65.

The doors are all wide open; at the gate, $15.
The guests were loud, the ale was strong,
The holiest of all holidays are those, 322,
The lights are out, and gone are all the guests

308.

The Lord descended from above, 466.
The night is come, but not too soon, 4
The nuns in the cloister, 42.
The old house by the lindens, 109.
The pages of thy book I read, 20.
The panting City cried to the Sea, 356.
The peasant leaves his plough afield, 594.
There is a love that cannot die, 648.
There is a quiet spirit in these woods, 10.
There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, 3.
There is no flock, however watched and tended.

107.

There sat one day in quiet, 609.
The rising moon has hid the stars, 15.

The rocky ledge runs far into the sea, 106.
There was a time when I was very small, 608.
The rivers rush into the sea, 610.

The sea awoke at midnight from its sleep, 316.
The sea hath its pearls, 615.

These are the Voices Three, 305.

These words the poet heard in Paradise, 357.
The shades of night were falling fast, 19.
The Slaver in the broad lagoon, 22.
The summer sun is sinking low, 353.
The sun is bright, the air is clear, 15.
The sun is set; and in his latest beams, 316.
The tide rises, the tide falls, 347.
The twilight is sad and cloudy, 105.

The wind is rising; it seizes and shakes, 407.
The works of human artifice soon tire, 652.
The world is full of care, 484.

They made the warrior's grave beside, 650.
The young Endymion sleeps Endymion's sleep,

316.

They were three hundred, they were young and
strong, 658.

This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling, 56.
This is the forest primeval. The murmuring
pines and the hemlocks, 71.

This is the place. Stand still, my steed, 55.
This song of mine, 196.

Thora of Rimol! hide me! hide me, 220.
Thorberg Skafting, master-builder, 228.
Thou ancient oak whose myriad leaves are
loud, 318.

Thou brooklet, all unknown to song, 630.
Thou comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain, 69.
Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they
grind exceeding small, 616.

Thou mighty Prince of Church and State, 629.
Thou Royal River, born of sun and shower, 320.
Thou that from the heavens art, 617.
Three Kings came riding from far away, 339.
Three miles extended around the fields of the

homestead, on three sides, 598.

Three Silences there are: the first of speech, 320.
Thus for a while he stood, and mused by the
shore of the ocean, 177.

Thus sang the Potter at his task, 329.
Thus, then, much care-worn, 618.

'Tis late at night, and in the realm of sleep, 291.
Tityrus, thou in the shade of a spreading beech-
tree reclining, 640.

To-day from the Aurora's bosom, 651.
To gallop off to town post-haste, 632.

To noble heart Love doth for shelter fly, 637.
Torrent of light and river of the air, 316.
Turn, turn, my wheel! Turn round and round,
329.

Tuscan, that wanderest through the realms of
gloom, 69.

"T was Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness, 612.
Two angels, one of Life and one of Death, 190.
Two good friends had Hiawatha, 127.

Under a spreading chestnut-tree, 14.
Under Mount Etna he lies, 201.

Under the walls of Monterey, 193.

Until we meet again! That is the meaning, 354.
Up soared the lark into the air, 327.

Viswamitra the Magician, 339.
Vogelweid the Minnesinger, 66.

Warm and still is the summer night, 333.
Welcome, my old friend, 65.
Welcome, O Stork! that dost wing, 639.
We sat within the farm-house old, 106.
What an image of peace and rest, 346.
What is this I read in history, 352.
What phantom is this that appears, 345.
What say the Bells of San Blas, 359.
What shall I do, sweet Nici, tell me, 658.
What should be said of him cannot be said, 637.
What the Immortals, 302.

When Alcuin taught the sons of Charlemagne,

266.

When by night the frogs are croaking, kindle
but a torch's fire, 616.

When Christ was born in Bethlehem, 657.
When descends on the Atlantic, 103.'
Whene'er a noble deed is wrought, 197.
When first in ancient time, from Jubal's tongue,
645.

When I compare, 359.

When I remember them, those friends of mine,
314.

When Mazárvan the Magician, 295.
When the dying flame of day, 9.

When the hours of Day are numbered, 4.
When the prime mover of my many sighs, 636.
When the summer fields are mown, 297.
When the summer harvest was gathered in, 649.
When the warm sun, that brings, 7.
When upon the western cloud, 645.
When winter winds are piercing chill, 8.
Where are the Poets, unto whom belong, 358.
Where from the eye of day, 650.
Whereunto is money good, 616.
Whilom Love was like a fire, and warmth and
comfort it bespoke, 616.

White swan of cities, slumbering in thy nest, 319.
Whither, thou turbid wave, 609.

Who knocks, who knocks at my door, 657
Who love would seek, 616.

Why dost thou wildly rush and roar, 358.
Will ever the dear days come back again, 631.
Will then, Duperrier, thy sorrow be eternal?
628.

With favoring winds, o'er sunlit seas, 342.
With snow-white veil and garments as of flame,

292.

With what a glory comes and goes the year, 8.
With what a hollow dirge, its voice did fill, 651
Witlaf, a king of the Saxons. 109.

Worn with speed is my good steed, 52.

Ye sentinels of sleep, 305.

Yes, the moment shall decide, 306.
Yes, the Year is growing old, 6.

Yet not in vain, Ö River of Yesterday, 321.
Ye voices, that arose. 11.

You shall hear how Hiawatha, 124.

You shall hear how Pau-Puk-Keewis, 137, 149.