Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/608
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INDEX OF FIRST LINES.
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Thou who scornest truth divine
Thoughts flit and flutter through the wind
Through the rugged march of time
Thursday in the morn, the Ides of May.
Thy hesitating tongue and doubtful face
Thy neighbour? It is he whom thou.
Till death I Sylvia must adore
Time is the changeful shore of life
'Tis a fitting time for Hope to die
'Tis a pleasant sight on a vernal day
'Tis a time of pride when the bark is prancing
'Tis said in a bower by fairy hands wrought.
'Tis summer, 'tis summer, the wild birds are singing
'Tis sweet to see the opening rose
To flourish in my favourite bower
To Him that loved the souls of men
To make your candles last for aye.
To see a lady of such grace
"To your homes," said the leader of Israel's host.
To-day man lives in pleasure, wealth, and pride
Tom Trout, by native industry, was taught
True wit is like the brilliant stone.
'Twas eve, the lengthening shadows of the oak
'Twas on a Monday morning
'Twas the Pentecost time of tournament
'Twas within a mile o' Edinburgh town.
Two children stood at their father's gate
Two lawyers when a knotty case was o'er
Undaunted in peril, and foremost in danger
Unknown, untended, and alone
Up with the sun in the morning
Upon a rock's extremest verge
Up! up! let us a voyage take
Voyager upon life's sea, to yourself be true
Wake from thy azure ocean bed
Wake when the mist of the blue mountains sleeping
Walk in the light and thou shalt own
We anxiously hallowed the frozen ground
We be three poor fishermen
We climb, we pant, wo pause: again we climb
We dance on hills above the wind
We miss her footfall on the floor
We saw Thee not when thou didst tread
We soldiers drink, we soldiers sing
We trill a hymn to the evening dim