Oh, go not yet, my love
O maiden fresher than the first green leaf
O sad _No more_! O sweet _No more_
O thou whose fringèd lids I gaze upon
Rise, Britons, rise, if manhood be not dead
Sainted Juliet! dearest name
Shall the hag Evil die with the child of Good
Sure never yet was Antelope
The lintwhite and the throstlecock
The Northwind fall'n in the new starréd night
The pallid thunderstricken sigh for gain
There are three things that fill my heart with sighs
Therefore your halls, your ancient colleges
There is no land like England
The varied earth, the moving heaven
Thou, from the first, unborn, undying love
Though Night hath climbed her peak
Two bees within a chrystal flowerbell rockèd
Voice of the summerwind
We have had enough of motion
We know him, out of Shakespeare's art
What time I wasted youthful hours
Where is the Giant of the Sun, which stood
Who can say
Who fears to die? Who fears to die
With roses musky breathed
You cast to ground the hope which once was mine
You did late review my lays
Your ringlets, your ringlets