| A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun | 213 |
| Ae fond kiss, and then we sever! | 52 |
| Ah! Jeane, my maid, I stood to you | 20 |
| Ah! my heart is weary waiting | 91 |
| All houses wherein men have lived and died | 73 |
| As an unperfect actor on the stage | 50 |
| As ships becalmed at eve, that lay | 69 |
| A steed! a steed of matchlesse speed | 132 |
| As upland fields were sunburnt brown | 43 |
| At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still | 175 |
| Beautiful Evelyn Hope is dead | 161 |
| Before I trust my fate to thee | 46 |
| Behold this ruin! 'Twas a skull | 201 |
| Between the dark and the daylight | 152 |
| Bird of the wilderness | 104 |
| Break, break, break | 53 |
| By the waters of Life we sat together | 84 |
| Close his eyes; his work is done! | 134 |
| Come, all ye jolly shepherds | 30 |
| Come in the evening, or come in the morning | 35 |
| Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer | 46 |
| Could we but know | 220 |
| Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas | 167 |
| Deep on the convent-roof the snows | 215 |
| Drawn by horses with decorous feet | 185 |
| Eyes which can but ill define | 88 |
| Farewell! since nevermore for thee | 173 |
| Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea | 112 |
| From Stirling castle we had seen | 93 |
| "Give us a song!" the soldiers cried | 130 |
| God makes sech nights, all white an' still | 26 |
| Go, Soul, the body's guest | 204 |
| Green be the turf above thee | 169 |
| Hail to thee, blithe spirit! | 106 |
| He clasps the crag with hookÉd hands | 105 |
| He is gone on the mountain | 133 |
| Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling | 168 |
| He wiled me through the furzy croft | 59 |
| Ho! pretty page with the dimpled chin | 115 |
| Ho, sailor of the sea! | 150 |
| How sleep the brave who sink to rest | 139 |
| I arise
The Riverside Press
Electrotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.
Cambridge, Mass, U.S.A.
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