Listen—Songs thou ’lt hear
Through the wide world ringing.
Barry Cornwall.
| page | ||
| A baby was sleeping | Samuel Lover | [141] |
| “A cup for hope!” she said | Christina G. Rossetti | [190] |
| A golden bee a-cometh | Joseph Skipsey | [198] |
| A little shadow makes the sunrise sad | Mortimer Collins | [52] |
| A little while a little love | Dante Gabriel Rossetti | [191] |
| A thousand voices fill my ears | F. W. Bourdillon | [45] |
| Across the grass I see her pass | Austin Dobson | [81] |
| Ah, what avails the sceptered race! | Walter Savage Landor | [127] |
| Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon | Charles Kingsley | [121] |
| All glorious as the Rainbow’s birth | Gerald Massey | [153] |
| All through the sultry hours of June | Mortimer Collins | [54] |
| Along the garden ways just now | Arthur O’Shaughnessy | [156] |
| Although I enter not | William Makepeace Thackeray | [218] |
| As Gertrude skipt from babe to girl | Frederick Locker-Lampson | [139] |
| As I came round the harbor buoy | Jean Ingelow | [116] |
| Awake!—The starry midnight Hour | B. W. Procter (Barry Cornwall) | [174] |
| Awake thee, my Lady-love! | George Darley | [64] |
| Back flies my soul to other years | Joseph Skipsey | [199] |
| Break, break, break | Alfred Tennyson | [212] |
| Came, on a Sabbath noon, my sweet | Thomas Ashe | [23] |
| Christmas is here | William Makepeace Thackeray | [220] |
| Come, rosy Day! | Sir Edwin Arnold | [20] |
| Come sing, Come sing, of the great Sea-King | B. W. Procter (Barry Cornwall) | [172] |
| Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas | Dinah Maria Mulock Craik | [56] |
| Drink, and fill the night with mirth! | B. W. Procter (Barry Cornwall) | [180] |
| Every day a Pilgrim, blindfold | Hamilton Aïdé | [7] |
| Fast falls the snow, O lady mine | Mortimer Collins | [49] |
| First the fine, faint, dreamy motion | Norman Gale | [98] |
| Hence, rude Winter! crabbed old fellow | Alfred Domett | [84] |
| How many Summers, love | B. W. Procter (Barry Cornwall) | [165] |
| How many times do I love thee, dear? | Thomas Lovell Beddoes | [38] |
| I bring a garland for your head | Edmund Gosse | [101] |
| I had a Message to send her | Adelaide Anne Procter | [162] |
| I have been here before | Dante Gabriel Rossetti | [193] |
| I leaned out of window, I smelt the white clover | Jean Ingelow | [118] |
| I looked and saw your eyes | Dante Gabriel Rossetti | [194] |
| I made another garden, yea | Arthur O’Shaughnessy | [158] |
| I remember, I remember | Thomas Hood | [106] |
| I sat beside the streamlet | Hamilton Aïdé | [3] |
| I wandered by the brook-side | Lord Houghton | [111] |
| I walked in the lonesome evening | William Allingham | [16] |
| If I could choose my paradise | Thomas Ashe | [22] |
| If love were what the rose is | Algernon Charles Swinburne | [205] |
| If there were dreams to sell | Thomas Lovell Beddoes | [30] |
| I ’m sitting on the stile, Mary | Lady Dufferin | [90] |
| In Clementina’s artless mien | Walter Savage Landor | [131] |
| In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours | Alfred Tennyson | [217] |
| Into the Devil tavern | George Walter Thornbury | [225] |
| It was not in the winter | Thomas Hood | [102] |
| I ’ve been roaming! I ’ve been roaming! | George Darley | [62] |
| King Death was a rare old fellow! | B. W. Procter (Barry Cornwall) | [176] |
| Kissing her hair I sat against her feet. | Algernon Charles Swinburne | [208] |
| Lady! in this night of June | Alfred Austin | [26] |
| Last time I parted from my Dear | William Bell Scott | [196] |
| Let us wreathe the mighty cup | Michael Field | [96] |
| Little dimples so sweet and soft | J. Ashby Sterry | [203] |
| Lullaby! O lullaby! | William Cox Bennett | [42] |
| Lute! breathe thy lowest in my Lady’s ear | Sir Edwin Arnold | [18] |
| Mirror your sweet eyes in mine, love | J. Ashby Sterry | [204] |
| Mother, I can not mind my wheel | Walter Savage Landor | [133] |
| My fairest child, I have no song to give you | Charles Kingsley | [126] |
| My goblet’s golden lips are dry | Thomas Lovell Beddoes | [34] |
| My love, on a fair May morning | Thomas Ashe | [24] |
| My roses blossom the whole year round | William Cox Bennett | [41] |
| O for the look of those pure gray eyes | J. Ashby Sterry | [201] |
| O happy buds of violet! | Mortimer Collins | [53] |
| “O Heart, my heart!” she said, and heard | Dinah Maria Mulock Craik | [58] |
| O lady, leave thy silken thread | Thomas Hood | [104] |
| O lips that mine have grown into | Algernon Charles Swinburne | [209] |
| O Love is like the roses | Robert Buchanan | [48] |
| O May, thou art a merry time | George Darley | [60] |
| O roses for the flush of youth | Christina G. Rossetti | [188] |
| O spirit of the Summertime! | William Allingham | [13] |
| O ye tears! O ye tears! that have long refused to flow | Charles Mackay | [147] |
| Often I have heard it said | Walter Savage Landor | [128] |
| Oh, a dainty plant is the Ivy green | Charles Dickens | [75] |
| Oh, hearing sleep, and sleeping hear | William Allingham | [14] |
| Oh! let me dream of happy days gone by | Hamilton Aïdé | [6] |
| Oh, lovely Mary Donnelly, my joy, my only best! | William Allingham | [9] |
| “Oh, Mary, go and call the cattle home” | Charles Kingsley | [122] |
| One lovely name adorns my song | Walter Savage Landor | [133] |
| Peace! what can tears avail? | B. W. Procter (Barry Cornwall) | [182] |
| Seated one day at the Organ | Adelaide Anne Procter | [160] |
| Seek not the tree of silkiest bark | Aubrey de Vere | [72] |
| She was not fair, nor full of grace | B. W. Procter (Barry Cornwall) | [170] |
| She ’s up and gone, the graceless Girl | Thomas Hood | [108] |
| Sing!—Who sings | B. W. Procter (Barry Cornwall) | [168] |
| Sit down, sad soul, and count | B. W. Procter (Barry Cornwall) | [178] |
| Sleep sweet, belovëd one, sleep sweet! | Robert Buchanan | [46] |
| Sleep! the bird is in its nest | William Cox Bennett | [39] |
| Softly, O midnight Hours! | Audrey de Vere | [70] |
| Strew not earth with empty stars | Thomas Lovell Beddoes | [35] |
| Sweet and low, sweet and low | Alfred Tennyson | [215] |
| Sweet is childhood—childhood ’s over | Jean Ingelow | [120] |
| Sweet mouth! O let me take | Alfred Domett | [86] |
| Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean | Alfred Tennyson | [213] |
| Terrace and lawn are white with frost | Mortimer Collins | [50] |
| Thank Heaven, Ianthe, once again | Walter Savage Landor | [132] |
| The fault is not mine if I love you too much | Walter Savage Landor | [129] |
| The ladies of St. James’s | Austin Dobson | [77] |
| The night has a thousand eyes | F. W. Bourdillon | [44] |
| The Sea! the Sea! the open Sea! | B. W. Procter (Barry Cornwall) | [184] |
| The splendour falls on castle walls | Alfred Tennyson | [210] |
| The stars are with the voyager | Thomas Hood | [110] |
| The streams that wind amid the hills | George Darley | [63] |
| The Sun came through the frosty mist | Lord Houghton | [115] |
| The Violet invited my kiss | Joseph Skipsey | [200] |
| There is no summer ere the swallows come. | F. W. Bourdillon | [43] |
| Three fishers went sailing away to the West | Charles Kingsley | [124] |
| To sea, to sea! the calm is o’er | Thomas Lovell Beddoes | [33] |
| Touch us gently, Time! | B. W. Procter (Barry Cornwall) | [167] |
| Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud! | Alfred Tennyson | [216] |
| Two doves upon the selfsame branch | Christina G. Rossetti | [189] |
| Under the lindens lately sat | Walter Savage Landor | [130] |
| Wait but a little while | Norman Gale | [99] |
| We have loiter’d and laugh’d in the flowery croft | Frederick Locker-Lampson | [134] |
| We heard it calling, clear and low | Frederick Locker-Lampson | [137] |
| What is the meaning of the song | Charles Mackay | [145] |
| “What will you do, love, when I am going” | Samuel Lover | [143] |
| When a warm and scented steam | George Walter Thornbury | [228] |
| When along the light ripple the far serenade | Lord Houghton | [113] |
| When another’s voice thou hearest | Lady Dufferin | [88] |
| When I am dead, my dearest | Christina G. Rossetti | [186] |
| When I was young, I said to Sorrow | Aubrey de Vere | [74] |
| When Spring casts all her swallows forth | George Walter Thornbury | [223] |
| When the snow begins to feather | Lord de Tabley | [66] |
| Where winds abound | Michael Field | [97] |
| Who is the baby, that doth lie | Thomas Lovell Beddoes | [36] |
| Winds to-day are large and free | Michael Field | [94] |
| With deep affection | Francis Mahoney | [149] |
| Woo thy lass while May is here | Lord de Tabley | [69] |