Lady Alice was sitting in her bower window. Laid in my quiet bed in study as I were PAGE 220 339 320 Little white Lily Lord Thomas he was a bold forester. 238 258 Mary-Ann was alone with her baby in arms My heart leaps up when I behold Napoleon's banners at Boulogne. No stir in the air, no stir in the sea. Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger 'Now, woman, why without your veil ?' 30 118 341 178 23 100 2 2 296 O sing unto my roundelay O then, I see, Queen Mab hath been with you O where have ye been, Lord Randal, my son? Oh, hear a pensive prisoner's prayer Oh, to be in England. Oh! what's the matter? what's the matter Old stories tell how Hercules On the green banks of Shannon when Sheelah was nigh. 243 Once on a time a rustic dame 147 Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and Our bugles sang truce, for the night cloud had lower'd PAGE See the Kitten on the wall. Seven daughter had Lord Archibalds Sir John got him an ambling nag. Some will talk of bold Robin Hood. Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king. The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold 8 197 123 287 284 223 328 35 The cock is crowing 25 The crafty Nix, more false than fair 196 The fox and the cat, as they travell'd one day 251 The Knight had ridden down from Wensley Moor The stream was as smooth as glass, we said, 'Arise and let's away' 84 The Wildgrave winds his bugle horn The summer and autumn had been so wet The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing There came a ghost to Margaret's door. 224 There was an old woman, as I've heard tell 338 There was three kings into the East. 27 There were three jovial Welshmen 337 There's that old hag Moll Brown, look, see, just past 'Twas in the prime of summer time Under the green hedges after the snow. Underneath an old oak tree Up the airy mountain Up, Timothy, up with your staff and away PAGE 88 170 48 12 41 163 324 Who is yonder poor maniac, whose wildly fixed eyes. 210 Will you hear a Spanish lady 234 With farmer Allan at the farm abode 329 'You are old, Father William,' the young man cried 173 The Children's Garland from the Best Poets I THE CHILD AND THE PIPER Piping down the valleys wild, And he, laughing, said to me, Pipe a song about a lamb,' 'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe, While he wept with joy to hear. 'Piper, sit thee down and write In a book that all may read.' B |