| PAGE | |
| A lofty ship from Salcombe came | 234 |
| Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) | 277 |
| Ah, did you once see Shelley plain | 320 |
| Ah! what pleasant visions haunt me | 222 |
| “All honour to him who shall win the prize” | 256 |
| Angels, thy old friends, there shall greet thee | 302 |
| At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears | 300 |
| Ay, Oliver! I was but seven, and he was eleven | 292 |
| Come, dear children, let us away | 265 |
| Full fathom five thy father lies | 230 |
| Genseric, King of the Vandals, who, having laid waste seven lands | 316 |
| “Hadst thou stayed, I must have fled” | 272 |
| Hail to thee, blithe spirit | 213 |
| Here’s the tender coming | 230 |
| How sleep the brave, who sink to rest | 252 |
| I am fever’d with the sunset | 227 |
| I come from haunts of coot and hern | 222 |
| I’d like now, yet had haply been afraid | 303 |
| If there were dreams to sell | 283 |
| In his cool hall, with haggard eyes | 315 |
| In the pleasant orchard closes | 284 |
| In Xanadu did Kubla Khan | 318 |
| It was roses, roses, all the way | 254 |
| Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord | 247 |
| Nobly, nobly Cape St Vincent to the North-west died away | 220 |
| Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note | 250 |
| Oh England is a pleasant place for them that’s rich and high | 231 |
| O for the voice of that wild horn | 249 |
| O Mary, go and call the cattle home | 278 |
| O, my love is like a red, red rose | 313 |
| O my true love’s a smuggler and sails upon the sea | 236 |
| O, to be in England | 219 |
| O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being | 229 |
| O young Lochinvar is come out of the West | 279 |
| Often I think of the beautiful town | 226 |
| On either side the river lie | 258 |
| Over meadows purple-flowered | 305 |
| Queen and huntress, chaste and fair | 218 |
| Ring out wild bells to the wild sky | 321 |
| Say not the struggle nought availeth | 257 |
| Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness | 227 |
| Simon Danz has come home again | 224 |
| Soldier, rest! thy warfare o’er | 253 |
| Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind | 248 |
| Tell me where is Fancy bred | 301 |
| The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece! | 243 |
| The splendour falls on castle walls | 314 |
| There was a sound of revelry by night | 239 |
| There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream | 224 |
| Thunder of riotous hoofs over the quaking sod | 237 |
| ’Twas in the good ship Rover | 228 |
| Waken, lords and ladies gay | 304 |
| Ye have been fresh and green | 221 |
| Ye Mariners of England | 221 |
CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY JOHN CLAY, M.A. AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.