No More Learning

could I now but sit
Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh
All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd
All thoughts, all passions, all delights
And are ye sure the news is true?
And is this Yarrow? --This the Stream
And thou art dead, as young and fair
And wilt thou leave me thus?
Ariel to Miranda:--Take
Art thou pale for weariness
Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?
As it fell upon a day
As I was walking all alane
A slumber did my spirit seal
As slow our ship her foamy track
A sweet disorder in the dress
At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears
At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly
Avenge, O Lord! Thy slaughter'd Saints, whose bones
Awake, Aeolian lyre, awake
Awake, awake, my Lyre!
A weary lot is thine, fair maid
A wet sheet and a flowing sea
A widow bird sate mourning for her Love


Bards of Passion and of Mirth
Beauty sat bathing by a spring
Behold her, single in the field
Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed
Best and brightest, come away
Bid me to live, and I will live
Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy
Blow, blow, thou winter wind
Bright Star! would I were steadfast as thou art


Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren
Calm was the day, and through the trembling air
Captain, or Colonel, or Knight in Arms
Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night
Come away, come away, death
Come live with me and be my Love
Crabbed Age and Youth
Cupid and my Campaspe play'd
Cyriack, whose grandsire, on the royal bench


Daughter of Jove, relentless power
Daughter to that good earl, once President
Degenerate Douglas! O the unworthy lord!
Diaphenia like the daffadowndilly
Doth then the world go thus, doth all thus move?
Down in yon garden sweet and gay
Drink to me only with thine eyes
Duncan Gray cam here to woo


Earl March look'd on his dying child
Earth has not anything to show more fair
Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind!
Ethereal Minstrel! Pilgrim of the sky!
Ever let the Fancy roam


Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
Fair pledges of a fruitful tree
Farewell!
thou art too dear for my possessing
Fear no more the heat o' the sun
For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove
Forget not yet the tried intent
Four Seasons fill the measure of the year
From Harmony, from heavenly Harmony
From Stirling Castle we had seen
Full fathom five thy father lies


Gather ye rose-buds while ye may
Gem of the crimson-colour'd Even
Go fetch to me a pint o' wine
Go, lovely Rose!


Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!
Happy the man, whose wish and care
Happy those early days, when I
He is gone on the mountain
He that loves a rosy cheek
Hence, all you vain delights
Hence, loathed Melancholy
Hence, vain deluding Joys
How delicious is the winning
How happy is he born and taught
How like a winter hath my absence been
How sleep the Brave, who sink to rest
How sweet the answer Echo makes
How vainly men themselves amaze


I am monarch of all I survey
I arise from dreams of thee
I dream'd that as I wander'd by the way
If aught of oaten stop or pastoral song
If doughty deeds my lady please
I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden
If Thou survive my well-contented day
If to be absent were to be
If women could be fair, and yet not fond
I have had playmates, I have had companions
I heard a thousand blended notes
I met a traveller from an antique land
I'm wearing awa', Jean
In a drear-nighted December
In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining
In the sweet shire of Cardigan
I remember, I remember
I saw where in the shroud did lurk
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free
It is not Beauty I demand
It is not growing like a tree
I travell'd among unknown men
It was a lover and his lass
It was a summer evening
I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking
I wander'd lonely as a cloud
I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile!
I wish I were where Helen lies


John Anderson, my jo, John


Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Life! I know not what thou art
Life of Life! thy lips enkindle
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore
Like to the clear in highest sphere
Love not me for comely grace
Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours


Many a green isle needs must be
Mary! I want a lyre with other strings
Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour
Mine be a cot beside the hill
Mortality, behold and fear
Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes
Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold
Music, when soft voices die
My days among the Dead are past
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My heart leaps up when I behold
My Love in her attire doth show her wit
My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow
My thoughts hold mortal strife
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his


No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note
Not, Celia, that I juster am
Now the golden Morn aloft
Now the last day of many days


O blithe new-comer! I have heard
O Brignall banks are wild and fair
Of all the girls that are so smart
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw
Of Nelson and the North
O Friend! I know not which way I must look
Of this fair volume which we World do name
Oft in the stilly night
O if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm
Oh, lovers' eyes are sharp to see
Oh, snatch'd away in beauty's bloom!
O listen, listen, ladies gay!
O Mary, at thy window be
O me! what eyes hath love put in my head
O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O my Luve's like a red, red rose
On a day, alack the day!
On a Poet's lips I slept
Once did She hold the gorgeous East in fee
One more Unfortunate
One word is too often profaned
O never say that I was false of heart
On Linden, when the sun was low
O saw ye bonnie Lesley
O say what is that thing call'd Light
O talk not to me of a name great in story
Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd
Over the mountains
O waly waly up the bank
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms
O Wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being
O World!