PAGE O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms. 107 Oft in the stilly night..... 75 Oh, to be in England now that April's there.. 181 Say not, the struggle naught availeth... 207 She walks in beauty, like the night..... Sunset and evening star.... Swiftly walk o'er the western wave. Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean.... Tell me not, in mournful numbers.... The curfew tolls the knell of parting day.. The fountains mingle with the river.... The world is too much with us; late and soon. To me, fair friend, you never can be old. ...... Verse, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying. I 84 173 95 138 124 33 91 43 166 47 ΙΟΙ 6 I 20 ΤΟ Wander, oh, wander, maiden sweet. We watch'd her breathing thro' the night. We are the music-makers.... What needs my Shakespeare for his honored bones.. What was he doing, the great god Pan... When God at first made man... When I am dead, my dearest. When I consider how my light is spent.. When I have fears that I may cease to be.. 61 221 119 223 24 176 16 213 23 105 PAGE When, in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes... When in the chronicle of wasted time. When lovely woman stoops to folly.. When maidens such as Hester die... When to the sessions of sweet silent thought. Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon.. Yet once more, O ye Laurels, and once more. 2 7 39 73 3 115 40 25 12 |