tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">83  I would enshrine in silvern song . . . . . . . . . .   13
  Like oxeye daisies of the field  . . . . . . . . . .   91  Look now!  The crested waters sleep  . . . . . . . .   70  Love bows herself in holy prayer . . . . . . . . . .   45  Love's inspirations of the lyre  . . . . . . . . . .   90
  Man's highest word, as God's above . . . . . . . . .   44  Men plow and sow while moves the sun . . . . . . . .   27  My quickened sense can only plod . . . . . . . . . .   72
  Never before has my ear heard  . . . . . . . . . . .   56
  O glorious light!  Thy limpid wave . . . . . . . . .   85  O June has lit her splendid lamp . . . . . . . . . .   32  O patriot, ruler, leader great . . . . . . . . . . .   88  O soul that art essential change . . . . . . . . . .   17  Over the brow of lofty scar  . . . . . . . . . . . .   69
  Philosophy doth dig and draw . . . . . . . . . . . .   65  Pure lily, open on the breast  . . . . . . . . . . .   30
  Revolving without rest and goal  . . . . . . . . . .   31
  Says one who with the sad condoles . . . . . . . . .   76  Spirit of song, life's golden ray  . . . . . . . . .   18  Sunshine, O soul, is not a mood  . . . . . . . . . .   47  Superbest power with sweetness wed . . . . . . . . .   22  Sure in this realm of Sense and Time . . . . . . . .   54  Sweetheart, I dedicate to thee . . . . . . . . . . .   16
  The bird of needle beak, and breast  . . . . . . . .   29  The flecks of gold that glorify  . . . . . . . . . .   41  The full ripe year, these maple hills  . . . . . . .   79  The ideal is a lifting sky . . . . . . . . . . . . .   42  The infinite in grand repose . . . . . . . . . . . .   66  The mirrored silence of this pool  . . . . . . . . .   68  The scarlet arch of evening fills  . . . . . . . . .   63  The sovereign law of human life  . . . . . . . . . .   92  The spirit firm and swelling soul  . . . . . . . . .   43  The sweep, O heart, of Love's account  . . . . . . .   21  The sword and spear and savage knife . . . . . . . .   89  The "trees of God," the prophet said . . . . . . . .   40  The world's a train at speeding rate . . . . . . . .   81  There are no solitudes to view . . . . . . . . . . .   37  There ever wakes an evil wraith  . . . . . . . . . .   77  This golden-browed September land  . . . . . . . . .   51  This tiny