ou wert when thou didst grow
My thoughts hold mortal strife
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his

No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note
Not, Celia, that I juster am
Now the golden Morn aloft
Now the last day of many days

O blithe new-comer! I have heard
O Brignall banks are wild and fair
Of all the girls that are so smart
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw
Of Nelson and the North
O Friend! I know not which way I must look
Of this fair volume which we World do name
Oft in the stilly night
O if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm
Oh, lovers' eyes are sharp to see
Oh, snatch'd away in beauty's bloom!
O listen, listen, ladies gay!
O Mary, at thy window be
O me! what eyes hath love put in my head
O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O my Luve's like a red, red rose
On a day, alack the day!
On a Poet's lips I slept
Once did She hold the gorgeous East in fee
One more Unfortunate
One word is too often profaned
O never say that I was false of heart
On Linden, when the sun was low
O saw ye bonnie Lesley
O say what is that thing call'd Light
O talk not to me of a name great in story
Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd
Over the mountains
O waly waly up the bank
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms
O Wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being
O World! O Life! O Time!

Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day
Phoebus, arise!
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu
Poor Soul, the centre of my sinful earth
Proud Maisie is in the wood

Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair

Rarely, rarely, comest thou
Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Shall I, wasting in despair
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
She is not fair to outward view
She walks in beauty, like the night
She was a phantom of delight
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part
Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile
Souls of Poets dead and gone
Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king
Star that bringest home the bee
Stern Daughter of the voice of God!
Surprised by joy--impatient as the wind
Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes
Sweet Highland Girl, a ve