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Now Neptune, joyful of the sacrifice
Now the light o' the west is a-turn'd to gloom

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Of Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing
Of love that never found his earthly close
Of Mary's pains may now learn whoso will
Of old sat Freedom on the heights .
Of the million or two, more or less
Oh for the young heart like a fountain playing
Oh, to be in England
O jay betide the dear wold mill
O Love, what hours were thine and mine
O most just Vizier, send away
Once Cagn was like a father, kind and good
On that last night before we went .
O so drowsy! In a daze
Out in the meadows the young grass springs .
Over the summer sea
O well

for him whose will is strong
O where are you going with your love-locks flowing
O zummer clote! when the brook's a-glidèn

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Pale, beyond porch and portal
Play then and sing; we too have played

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Quoth tongue of neither maid nor wife .

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Sad would the salt waves be .
So far as I conceive the world's rebuke
Sunrise! and it is summer, and the morning.

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Take me away,

in owe. deep
The curtains were half drawn, the floor was swept.
The feathers of the willow

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The forest rears on lifted arms
The hours are passing slow
The lake is calm; and, calm, the skies
The last year's leaf, its time is brief
The morning broke and Spring was there
There is a sweetness in autumnal days
There's a woman like a dew-drop, she's so purer than the

purest .
There's one great bunch of stars in heaven
There, where the sun shines first
The silent Forces of the World
The sunrise wakes the lark to sing.
The tree many-rooted
The woods decay, the woods decay and fall
They are gone-all is still! Foolish heart, dost thou

quiver
'Tis merry ov a zummer's day

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Wailing, wailing, wailing, the wind over land and sea .
We were two daughters of one race
We wish to declare how the Birds of the air all high In-

stitutions designed
What's become of Waring
What time the mighty moon was gathering light
What! wilt thou throw thy stone of malice now
Wheer 'asta beän saw long and meä liggin' 'ere aloän
When age comes by and lays his frosty hands
When I am dead, my dearest
When I was dead, my spirit turned
When I was young, I said to Sorrow

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When the hounds of spring are on winter's traces
When think you comes the wind
Where sunless rivers weep
Where the bridge out at Woodley did stride
Why should we seek at all to gain.
Why woonce, at Chris'mas-tide, avore
Within the isle, far from the walks of men

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Ve rocky heights of Chios, where the snow
Yes! in the sea of life enisled
You hail from Dream-land, Dragon-fly.
You promise heavens free from strife

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London : Printed by William Clowes and Sons, Limited,

Stamford Street and Charing Cross.

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