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A thousand, a thousand, a thousand 152

Ah, broken is the golden bowl! — the spirit flown forever! . . . 21

As turns the eye to bless the hand that led its infant years . . . 144

At midnight, in the month of June 17

At mom — at noon — at twilight dim — 23

Because the angels in the Heavens above 78

Beloved! amid the earnest woes 34

By a route obscure and lonely 26

Dim vales — and shadowy floods — 132

Elizabeth it is vain, you say 141

Elizabeth — it surely is most fit 140

Fair isle, that from the fairest of all flowers 28

Fair River! in thy bright, clear flow 130

First, find out a word that doth silence proclaim 146

For her these lines are penned, whose luminous eyes 73

From childhood's hour I have not been 135

Gaily bedight 79

Hark, echo! — Hark; echo! 139

Hear the sledges with the bells — 63

Helen, thy beauty is to me 134

I dwelt alone 32

I heed not that my earthly lot 131

I saw thee once — once only — years ago 70

I saw thee on thy bridal day — 117

In Heaven a spirit doth dwell 24

In the greenest of our valleys 38

In visions of the dark night 126

In youth have I known one with whom the Earth 124

In youth's spring it was my lot 128

It was many and many a year ago 80

Kind solace in a dying hour! 89

Lo! Death has reared himself a throne 29

Lo! ‘t is a gala night 36

Not long ago, the writer of these lines 68

O! Nothing earthly save the ray oa

Of all who hail thy presence as the morning — 67

Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream 118

Once it smiled a silent dell 14

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, 7

Romance, who loves to nod and sing 116

Science! true daughter of Old Time thou art! 98

“Seldom we find,” says Solomon Don Dunce 69

Take this kiss upon thy browl 123

Thank Heaven! the crisis — 74

The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see 129

The great man lives forever shrined in the hearts of men . . . . 143

The happiest day — the happiest hour 127

The ring is on my hand I5

The skies they were ashen and sober 82

There are some qualities — some incorporate things 35

Thou art sad, Castigiione 40

Thou wast that all to me, love 3:

Thou wouldst be loved ? — then let thy heart 33

Thy soul shall find itself alone 120

I was noontide of summer 122

Type of the antique Rome! Rich reliquary 19

When from your gems of thought I turn 147

When melancholy and alone 142

Who is king but Epiphanes? 151