TENNYSON-TURNER, C. (continued). Anastasis The Afternote of the Hour Mary A Reminiscence HACKERAY, William Makepeace (1811-1863). At the Church Gate TRENCH, Richard Chenevix, Archbishop (1807-1886). O life, O death, O world, O time Returning Home VERE, Aubrey de Evening Melody. -). NUMBER clxxxi clxxxii clxxxiii clxxxiv xxxviii cxxxii clxviii cxxii CXV lxiv cxviii A wanderer is man from his birth INDEX OF FIRST LINES A cup for hope!' she said All along the valley, stream that flashest white PAGE 197 93 258 All's over, then does truth sound bitter 206 66 Although I enter not 51 And has the Spring's all glorious eye. 156 And when I seek the chamber where she dwelt 250 Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea 58 89 At noon a shower had fallen, and the clime As there I left the road in May At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay At the midnight in the silence of the sleep-time Beholding youth and hope in mockery caught Come, see the Dolphin's anchor forged-'tis at a white 124 144 207 Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet 'tis early morn 77 Dosn't thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters awaäy 101 13 Eleven men of England Far, far from here Fear death?-to feel the fog in my throat Get thee behind me. Even as, heavy-curl'd. Half a league, half a league. Has summer come without the rose PAGE 141 170 192 167 32 107 69 40 57 185 133 165 203 52 105 Here, in this little Bay 71 Here sparrows build upon the trees 25 Her long black hair danced round her like a snake 148 Hide me, Mother! my Fathers belong'd to the church of old 232 How changed is here each spot man makes or fills 174 How the blithe Lark runs up the golden stair 152 I am yet what I am who cares, or knows I come from haunts of coot and hern I have a name, a little name I have been here before I heard a man of many winters say I loved him not; and yet now he is gone I never pray'd for Dryads, to haunt the woods again 169 I sat with Love upon a woodside well. 56 I, singularly moved I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless I think he had not heard of the far towns I thought once how Theocritus had sung I wonder do you feel to-day I wonder if the Angels. I'd a dream to-night 37 209 104 58 61 26 224 23 If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange If one should give me a heart to keep If only once the chariot of the Morn If she but knew that I am weeping. 55 'If I were dead, you'd sometimes say, Poor Child If thou must love me, let it be for nought. If you go over desert and mountain In childhood, when with eager eyes. 250 58 29 203 55 230 106 Index of First Lines 277 PAGE In the deserted, moon-blanch'd street. In the heart there lay buried for years It was not like your great and gracious ways 90 207 163 It was her first sweet child, her heart's delight. 18 204 116 Last night among his fellow-roughs. 119 17 Mighty, luminous, and calan Mist clogs the sunshine My body was part of the sun and the dew 35 183 195 O, Galuppi, Baldassaro, this is very sad to find O Rose! who dares to name thee O that the pines which crown yon steep O that 'twere possible O Thou, whose dim and tearful gaze Oh, to be in England. 225 On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two 135 Right on our flank the crimson sun went down 117 173 Say not, the struggle nought availeth. She died in June, while yet the woodbine sprays Since through the open window of the eye. 193 249 52 68 106 |