Verse > Anthologies > Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. > The Oxford Book of English Verse
CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD
Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
  
Index of First Lines
 
Underneath this myrtle shade
to
Your eyen two wol slee me sodenly
 
Underneath this myrtle shade
Underneath this sable herse
Under the greenwood tree
Under the wide and starry sky
Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward
Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart!
Upon my lap my sovereign sits
Up the airy mountain
Urns and odours bring away!

Venus, take my votive glass
Verse, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying
Vital spark of heav'nly flame!

Waes-hael for knight and dame!
We are the music-makers
Weave the warp, and weave the woof
Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee
Weep with me, all you that read
Weep you no more, sad fountains
Welcome, maids of honour!
Welcome, welcome! do I sing
Well then! I now do plainly see
Were I as base as is the lowly plain
We saw Thee in Thy balmy nest
We see them not—we cannot hear
We, that did nothing study but the way
We watch'd her breathing thro' the night
We've trod the maze of error round
Wharefore sou'd ye talk o' love
What beck'ning ghost, along the moonlight shade
What bird so sings, yet so does wail?
What conscience, say, is it in thee
What have I done for you
What is your substance, whereof are you made
What needs complaints
What nymph should I admire or trust
What should I say?
What sweet relief the showers to thirsty plants we see
What was he doing, the great god Pan
Whenas in silks my Julia goes
When by Zeus relenting the mandate was revoked
When, Coelia, must my old day set
When daisies pied and violets blue
When, dearest, I but think of thee
When Death to either shall come
When Delia on the plain appears
When God at first made Man
When I am dead, my dearest
When icicles hang by the wall
When I consider how my light is spent
When I have borne in memory what has tamed
When I have fears that I may cease to be
When, in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes
When in the chronicle of wasted time
When I survey the bright
When Jessie comes with her soft breast
When Letty had scarce pass'd her third glad year
When like the early rose
When Love arose in heart and deed
When Love with unconfinèd wings
When lovely woman stoops to folly
When maidens such as Hester die
When my love was away
When our two souls stand up erect and strong
When the breath of twilight blows to flame the misty skies
When the fierce North-wind with his airy forces
When the hounds of spring are on winter's traces
When the lamp is shatter'd
When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame
When the world is burning
When thou must home to shades of underground
When thou, poor Excommunicate
When thy beauty appears
When to the Sessions of sweet silent thought
When we two parted
When we were idlers with the loitering rills
When you and I have play'd the little hour
When you are old and gray and full of sleep
Where, like a pillow on a bed
Where the bee sucks, there suck I
Where the pools are bright and deep
Where the remote Bermudas ride
Whether on Ida's shady brow
While that the sun with his beams hot
Whither, O splendid ship, thy white sails crowding
Whoe'er she be
Whoever comes to shroud me, do not harm
Who hath his fancy pleasèd
Who is it that, this dark night
Who is Silvia? What is she?
Why art thou silent! Is thy love a plant
Why does your brand sae drop wi' blude
Why dost thou shade thy lovely face? O why
Why, having won her, do I woo?
Why I tie about thy wrist
Why so pale and wan, fond lover?
Why, why repine, my pensive friend
Wilt Thou forgive that sin where I begun
Wine of Love is music
With all my will, but much against my heart
With blackest moss the flower-plots
With deep affection
With how sad steps, O moon, thou climb'st the skies!
With leaden foot Time creeps along
With lifted feet, hands still
With margerain gentle
World is too much with us; late and soon
World's great age begins anew
Worschippe ye that loveris bene this May
Wouldst thou hear what Man can say
Wrong not, sweet empress of my heart
Wynter wakeneth al my care

Year 's at the spring
Years, many parti-colour'd years
Ye banks and braes and streams around
Ye blushing virgins happy are
Ye flowery banks o' bonnie Doon
Ye have been fresh and green
Ye have robb'd, said he, ye have slaughter'd and made an end
Ye Highlands and ye Lawlands
Ye learnèd sisters, which have oftentimes
Ye little birds that sit and sing
Ye Mariners of England
Yes: in the sea of life enisled
Yet if His Majesty, our sovereign lord
Yet once more, O ye Laurels, and once more
You are a tulip seen to-day
You brave heroic minds
You'll love me yet!—and I can tarry
You meaner beauties of the night
You must be sad; for though it is to Heaven
You promise heavens free from strife
You spotted snakes with double tongue
Young May moon is beaming, love
Your beauty, ripe and calm and fresh
Your eyen two wol slee me sodenly

 
 
CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD
 
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