The fierce queen wearied, and she smote her hands
The frost hath spread a shining net
The furrow's long behind my plow
The gallows in my garden, people say
The Gates of Horn are dull of hue.
The gaunt trees black and naked stand
The gods are dead? Perhaps they are!
The heat wave sweeps along the street
The Hours passed by, a fleet confusèd crowd
The hungry north wind whines .

The lilacs are in bloom

The loaded sheaves are harvested

Who knows

The loud black flight of the storm diverges
The loveliness of water, its faery ways

The Mistletoe is gemmed with pearls
The moon with all her tricksy ways
The Muses love me and I am content
The native drama's sick and dying
Theocritus, who bore

The old sea-ways send up their tide
The Old Year goes down-hill so slow
The poets, extolling the graces .

The sky and sea glared hard and bright and blank

378

The sea is awake, and the sound of the song of the joy of

The world is so full of a number of things
They are all gone away

441

437

This kiss upon your fan I press
Thistle-down is a woman's love

Those far, fair lands our feet have trod
Through the fresh fairness of the Spring to ride
Time has changed naught in us; for now the din
To buy my book-if you will be so kind
To kiss a fan

401

403

205

303

491

384

401

We hang to-morrow, then? That doom is fit

134

What is the song that the sea-wind sings

157

What is to come we know not. But we know

363

What likeness may define, and stray not
What of this prayer which myriad skies

375

199

What makes the world, Sweetheart, reply

337

What more? Where is the third Calixt

129

When Burbadge played, the stage was bare
When Finis comes, the Book we close.

When flower-time comes and all the woods are gay

PAGE

When Love is once dead

410

When on the mid sea of the night

317

When Shakespeare laughed, the fun began
When the brow of June is crowned by the rose
When the Morning broke before us
When the roads are heavy with mire and rut

When these Old Plays were new, the King
When time upon the wing.
When Venus saw Ascanius sleep

When you are very old and I am gone
Where are the cities of the plain

359

436

206

260

152

306

210

135

143

Where are the creatures of the deep
Where are the mighty kings of yore
Where are the passions they essayed
Where be they that once would sing
Where is that list of Weslyans. I made
Where, prithee, are thy comrades bold
Where the waves of burning cloud are rolled
Where wide the forest boughs are spread

158

150

149

146

469

133

209

127

Who is it that weeps for the last year's flowers.
Who wins my hand must do these three things well
Why are our songs like the moan of the main

215

389

263

Why is the moon

408

Why not, my Soul? Why not fare forth and fly.
Wilt thou have words, when silence deep

366

338

Wine and woman and song

424

Wishful to add to my mental power

246

With a ripple of leaves and a tinkle of streams

254

Your rondeau's tale must still be light
Your triolet should glimmer

You shun me, Chloe, wild and shy

You that climb the trails of air.

You thought it was a falling leaf we heard

You would not hear me speak; you never knew

323

395

307

229

316

490

REFRAINS OF BALLADES AND CHANTS

ROYAL

A frank and free young Yankee maiden .
Ah! lost are the loves of the long ago

Ah! woe is me for all these things
Alas, for the fleet wings of Time
All in the heart of a minstrel's measure
Along the mead of Asphodel

And bid at last a long farewell to all
And deathless praises to the vine-god sing
And feed my brain with better things.
And hopes of harvest kindle in the corn
And show the little things that count
And where are the galleons of Spain
And who was the Man in the Iron Mask
Anna's the name of names for me
Another redskin bit the dust

PAGE
222

215

205

133

467

193

295

275

237
187

226

164

463

220

242

A petal falls from the Dreamland Rose
As one by one the phantoms go

But, ah me, for the Moon that I cry for
But her forte's to evaluate

244

221

But I hope I have kept to the rules

119

But pray God pardon us out of His Grace.
But pray to God that all we be forgiven
But pray to God that he forgive us all
But where are the snows of yester-year

126

123

125

493

Dawn and noon and sunset are one before thy face.
Deep in the forest sings the nightingale .

167

137