INDEX OF FIRST LINES A batter'd, wreck'd old man, 601. A beautiful and happy girl, 265. A carol closing sixty-nine-a résumé - a repeti- A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me A Christian! going, gone! 272. A cloud, like that the old-time Hebrew saw, 349. A dull uncertain brain, 93. A fleet with flags arrayed, 254. Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road, 547. After an interval, reading, here in the midnight, After surmounting three-score and ten, 608. A gold fringe on the purpling hem, 344. Ah, broken is the golden bowl! the spirit flown Ah, Clemence! when I saw thee last, 358. A line in long array where they wind betwixt All are architects of Fate, 149. All as God wills, who wisely heeds, 302. And as the light divides the dark, 93. And now gentlemen, 589. Andrew Rykman 's dead and gone, 307. And what is so rare as a day in June? 453. And who art thou? said I to the soft-falling 'A new commandment,' said the smiling Muse, Annie and Rhoda, sisters twain, 339. Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, 72. An old man bending I come among new faces, An old man in a lodge within a park, 245. Apollo looked up, hearing footsteps approaching, Arm'd year-year of the struggle, 571. As a fond mother, when the day is o'er, 252. A sight in camp in the daybreak gray and dim, As I lay with my head in your lap camerado, 586. As life runs on, the road grows strange, 524. As one who long hath fled with panting breath, As sings the pine-tree in the wind, 95. As sinks the sun behind yon alien hills, 508. As the Greek's signal flame, by antique records As toilsome I wander'd Virginia's woods, 574. At anchor in Hampton Roads we lay, 235. A train of gay and clouded days, 91. A vision as of crowded streets, 245. Bathed in war's perfume - delicate flag! 581. Beloved! amid the earnest woes, 46. Beneath the low-hung night cloud, 340. Beside that milestone where the level sun, 346. Boon Nature yields each day a brag which we now Bowing thyself in dust before a Book, 458. Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Meriam, Flint, Burly, dozing humble-bee, 63. But Nature whistled with all her winds, 91. By the rude bridge that arched the flood, 63. Champion of those who groan beneath, 260. Columbus stands in the night alone, and, passing Come, dear old comrade, you and I, 385. Come, spread your wings, as I spread mine, 363. Come up from the fields, father, here's a letter Conductor Bradley, always may his name, 340. Daily the bending skies solicit man, 90. Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days, 87. Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the Dear friends, who read the world aright, 283. Dear Wendell, why need count the years, 523. Ef I a song or two could make, 484. Ere pales in Heaven the morning star, 523. Facing west from California's shores, 560. Fair isle, that from the fairest of all flowers, 46. Forgive, O Lord, our severing ways, 351. For Nature, true and like in every place, 90. For weeks the clouds had raked the hills, 332. Give me the splendid silent sun with all his beams Glooms of the live-oaks, beautiful-braided and God makes sech nights, all white an' still, 472. Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home, 58. Great soul, thou sittest with me in my room, 411. Half of my life is gone, and I have let, 113. Has there any old fellow got mixed with the boys? Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? 73. Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard! 280. Here are old trees, tall oaks, and gnarled pines, 20. Here is the place; right over the hill, 300. Here lies the gentle humorist, who died, 252. Here's Cooper, who's written six volumes to Her fingers shame the ivory keys, 304. Hers all that earth could promise or bestow, 523. Him strong Genius urged to roam, 29. His birthday.-Nay, we need not speak, 374. How long will this harp which you once loved to How many have gone? was the question of old, How many lives, made beautiful and sweet, 242. How solemn ! sweeping this dense black tide, 686. Hush'd be the camps to-day, 585. Hushed with broad sunlight lies the hill, 458. I am not poor, but I am proud, 58. I am not wiser for my age, 95. I am owner of the sphere, 73. I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of I ask not for those thoughts, that sudden leap, I believe that the copies of verses I've spun, 394. I celebrate myself, and sing myself, 533. I do not count the hours I spend, 90. I dream'd in a dream I saw a city invincible, 563. I du believe in Freedom's cause, 435. I dwelt alone, 51. I enter, and I see thee in the gloom, 240. If he be a nobler lover, take him! 528. If I could put my woods in song, 100. I framed his tongue to music, 93. If thought unlock her mysteries, 95. I gazed upon the glorious sky, 14. I had a little daughter, 429. I have a fancy: how shall I bring it, 528. I have read, in some old, marvellous tale, 106. I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear, I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea, 89. I heard the trailing garments of the Night, 105. I hear it was charged against me that I sought to destroy institutions, 562. I heed not that my earthly lot, 41. I know not what the future hath, 314. I left my dreary page and sallied forth, 91. I lift mine eyes, and all the windows blaze, 241. I like a church; I like a cowl, 64. Ill fits the abstemious Muse a crown to weave, 61. I love the old melodious lays, 280. I love to hear thine earnest voice, 356. I love to start out arter night's begun, 473. I marvel how mine eye, ranging the Night, 619. I mourn no more my vanished years, 301. In a far-away northern county in the placid pas- In an age of fops and toys, 99. In broad daylight, and at noon, 156. In calm and cool and silence, once again, 285. I need no assurances, I am a man who is pre- I need not praise the sweetness of his song, 496. In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, 61. In o'er-strict calyx lingering, 619. Inquiring, tireless, seeking what is yet unfound, In the ancient town of Bruges, 118. In the deep heart of man a poet dwells, 96. In the greenest of our valleys, 46. In the heart of the Hills of Life, I know, 612. In the long, sleepless watches of the night, 257. In the old days - a custom laid aside, 323. In the valley of the Pegnitz, where across broad Into the darkness and hush of night, 257. In vain we call old notions fudge, 524. In youth's spring it was my lot, 659. I pace the sounding sea-beach and behold, 246. I reached the middle of the mount, 665. I remember-why, yes! God bless me! and was it so long ago? 375. I said I stood upon thy grave, 291. I saw him once before, 358. I saw in Louisiana a live-oak growing, 562. I saw old General at bay, 573. I saw thee once- once only-years ago, 52. I saw thee on thy bridal day, 39. I saw the twinkle of white feet, 428. I see all human wits, 95. I see amid the fields of Ayr, 256. I see before me now a traveling army halting, 572. I shot an arrow into the air, 120. I sit in the early twilight, 31. I spose you wonder ware I be; I can't tell, fer the Is thy name Mary, maiden fair? 357. I stood on the bridge at midnight, 119. It don't seem hardly right, John, 478. It fell in the ancient periods, 64. I thought our love at full, but I did err, 430. It is not what we say or sing, 384. It is time to be old, 101. It mounts athwart the windy hill, 499. I treasure in secret some long, fine hair, 462. It was a tall young oysterman lived by the river- It was fifty years ago, 211. It was late in mild October, and the long au- It was many and many a year ago, 56. It was the season, when through all the land, 235. I understand the large hearts of heroes, 541. I wandered lonely where the pine-trees made, I was asking for something specific and perfect I would the gift I offer here, 282. I write my name as one, 350. I wrote some lines once on a time, 356. John Brown of Ossawatomie spake on his dying Joy, shipmate, joy! 596. X Kind solace in a dying hour! 36. Lay down the axe; fling by the spade, 24. Lift again the stately emblem on the Bay State's Ligeia! Ligeia! 40. Listen, my children, and you shall hear, 233. Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown, Long I followed happy guides, 84. Long, too long America, 578. Look off, dear Love, across the sallow sands, 616. Look out! Look out, boys! Clear the track! 405. Love, 91. Low and mournful be the strain, 99. Maiden! with the meek, brown eyes, 112. Maud Muller on a summer's day, 289. Me imperturbe, standing at ease in Nature, 560. Men! whose boast it is that ye, 414. Merrily swinging on brier and weed, 23. My aunt! my dear unmarried aunt! 357. My Dawn? my Dawn? How if it never break? My day began not till the twilight fell, 524. My heart was heavy, for its trust had been, 275. Myself and mine gymnastic ever, 567. Nay, blame me not; I might have spared, 380. Next drive we o'er the slimy-weeded sea, 618. No Berserk thirst of blood had they, 345. Not in the world of light alone, 369. Not the pilot has charged himself, 587. Not to exclude or demarcate, or pick out evils, 609. Not unto us who did but seek, 313. Not without envy Wealth at times must look, 346. Now Time throws off his cloak again, 103. O Cæsar, we who are about to die, 248. O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, 581. O'er all the hill-tops, 149. O'er the bare woods, whose outstretched hands, O even-handed Nature! we confess, 382. O fairest of the rural maids! 9. Of all the rides since the birth of time, 296. O Friends! with whom my feet have trod, 314. Of that blithe throat of thine from arctic bleak Oft have I seen at some cathedral door, 240. Oh, slow to smite and swift to spare, 31. O lady fair, these silks of mine are beautiful and O little feet! that such long years, 239. O lonely bay of Trinity, 301. O Love Divine, that stooped to share, 377. O Love! O Life! Our faith and sight, 326. O magnet-South! O glistening perfumed South! O moonlight deep and tender, 412. O Mother Earth! upon thy lap, 260. O mother of a mighty race, 21. Onaway! Awake, beloved! 184. On bravely through the sunshine and the show- Once git a smell o' musk into a draw, 480. Once more, O all-adjusting Death! 352. Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, One broad, white sail in Spezzia's treacherous One of your old-world stories, Uncle John, 24. On woodlands ruddy with autumn, 30. O poet rare and old! 285. Or, haply, how if this contrarious West, 618. O star of morning and of liberty! 241. O Trade! O Trade! would thou wert dead! 612. Our love is not a fading, earthly flower, 412. Out of the rolling ocean the crowd came a drop Over his head were the maple buds, 94. Over the carnage rose prophetic a voice, 578. Over the Western sea hither from Niphon come, O, well for the fortunate soul, 100. O what are heroes, prophets, men, 96. O ye dead Poets, who are living still, 252. Pale genius roves alone, 93. Phoebus, sitting one day in a laurel-tree's shade, Pipes of the misty moorlands, 299. Ploughman, whose gnarly hand yet kindly Poet and friend of poets, if thy glass, 352. Poet! I come to touch thy lance with mine, 253. Poor and inadequate the shadow-play, 347. Quicksand years that whirl me I know not Reader-gentle- if so be, 388. Rivermouth Rocks are fair to see, 310. Romance, who loves to nod and sing, 40. Saint Augustine! well hast thou said, 155. She gathered at her slender waist, 402. She has gone, she has left us in passion and She paints with white and red the moors, 91. Should you ask me, whence these stories? 158. Shun passion, fold the hands of thrift, 92. Singing my days, 590. Six thankful weeks, and let it be, 65. So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn, 282. Some die too late and some too soon, 348. So when there came a mighty cry of Land! 619. Speak! speak! thou fearful guest! 108. Spirit that breathest through my lattice, thou, 15. Statesman, I thank thee! and, if yet dissent, 303. Stream of my fathers! sweetly still, 264. Summer's last sun nigh unto setting shines, 353. Take this kiss upon the brow! 41. Tell me, maiden, dost thou use, 59. Thanks in old age - thanks ere I go, 608. That each should in his house abide, 92. That's a rather bold speech, my Lord Bacon, 529. The autumn-time has come, 337. The bard and mystic held me for their own, 92. The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see, 41. The commonplace I sing, 608. The cordage creaks and rattles in the wind, 418. The elder folks shook hands at last, 327. The electric nerve, whose instantaneous thrill, 50. |