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INDEX OF FIRST LINES.
A GLORIOUS people vibrated again
A portal as of shadowy adamant
Arise, arise, arise! . .
Art thou pale for weariness
A Sensitive Plant in a garden grew
Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon
"Do you not hear the Aziola cry?"
Earth, ocean, air, belovèd brotherhood!
Far, far away, O ye.
From the forests and highlands
Good night? ah! no; the hour is ill
Hail to thee, blithe spirit!
"Here lieth One whose name was writ on water
Her voice did quiver as we parted
How wonderfuls Death.
Honey from sleworms who can gather.
I arise from freams of thee.
I bring fresh showers for the thirsting Bower
I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way
I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden
I met a traveller from an antique land
It was a bright and cheerful afternoon
I weep for Adonais-be is dead!
Lift not the painted vell which those who live
Listen, listen, Mary mine
Madonna, wherefore hast thou sent to me.
Mine eyes were dim with tears unshed
Nor happiness, nor majesty, nor fame
O Mary dear, that you were here.
O thou, who plumed with strong desire
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being
Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to know
Summer was dead, and autumn was expiring
The awful shadow of some unseen Power.
The everlasting universe of things
The fiery mountains answer each other
The flower that smiles to-day
The fountains mingle with the river
The golden gates of Sleep unbar
The keen stars were twinkling.
The odour from the flower is gone
The pale, the cold, and the moony smile
There late was One within whose subtle being
The rose that drinks the fountain dew
The serpent is shut out from paradise
The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing.
The wind has swept from the wide atmosphere
Thou art fair, and few are fairer
Thus to be lost and thus to sink and die
Where art thou, beloved To-morrow?
Wild, pale, and wonder-stricken, even as one
Ye hasten to the dead! What seek ye there
CHISWICK PRESS:-C. WHITTINGHAM, TOOKS COURT,