Night, with all thine eyes look down! No access to the Duke! You have not said Nor happiness, nor majesty, nor fame Not far from hence. From yonder pointed hill. O Bacchus, what a world of toil, both now. O happy Earth! reality of Heaven O Mary dear, that you were here 7 549 O thou bright Sun! beneath the dark blue line. 871 654 O thou, who plumed with strong desire O universal Mother, who dost keep 609 693 O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being 573 O world! O life! O time! . 636 Offspring of Jove, Calliope, once more 693 Oh! did you observe the black Canon pass 840 Oh! take the pure gem to where southerly breezes 859 Rome has fallen, ye see it lying Rarely, rarely, comest thou Returning from its daily quest, my Spirit Rough wind, that moanest loud Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth Serene in his unconquerable might Shall we roam, my love 633 Reach me that handkerchief!- My brain is hurt 293 723 582 666 606 872 628 872 She was an agèd woman; and the years 860 Silence! Oh, well are Death and Sleep and Thou 565 So we sate joyous as the morning ray 105 Stern, stern is the voice of fate's fearful command The sleepless Hours who watch me as I lie 624 637 606 The sun makes music as of old The voice of the Spirits of Air and of Earth The spider spreads her webs, whether she be The stars may dissolve, and the fountain of light The transport of a fierce and monstrous gladness The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing The wind has swept from the wide atmosphere The world is dreary The world's great age begins anew 358 54 839 647 557 740 144 626 251 614 632 520 577 541 472 253 531 579 525 There was a little lawny islet There was a youth, who, as with toil and travel Those whom nor power, nor lying faith, nor toil 668 156 668 542 543 Thy country's curse is on thee, darkest crest Thou art fair, and few are fairer. Thy dewy looks sink in my breast PAGE 576 163 628 385 543 712 206 535 655 538 517 Thy little footsteps on the sands. 577 "Twas dead of the night, when I sat in my dwelling 847 846 What men gain fairly-that they should possess. 'What think you the dead are? 655 721 569 199 What thoughts had sway o'er Cythna's lonely slumber 64 856 581 655 639 When soft winds and sunny skies. Whose is the love that gleaming through the world Wild, pale, and wonder-stricken, even as one Wilt thou forget the happy hours PAGE 654 661 41 714 652 870 754 859 642 549 604 452 462 238 714 580 618 718 692 855 164 519 265 216 Within a cavern of man's trackless spirit Ye congregated powers of heaven, who share |