INDEX OF FIRST LINES
O pilgrim from the Indies! 382.
O Thou, whose glorious orbs on high, 212.
O what a sore campaign, 207.
O wretched woman indeed, and O most wise, 234.
Of all the beautiful demons who fasten on human hearts, 403.
Off Maracaibo's wall, 349.
Oh, what a set of Vagabundos, 347.
Olympia? Yes, strange tidings from the city, 251.
Once more, dear mother Earth, we stand, 167.
Once more on the fallow hillside, as of old, I lie at rest, 110.
One by one they died, 74.
One can never quite forget, 369.
Only the sunny hours, 378.
Our great-great-grandpapas had schooled, 126.
Out from the seething Stream, 327.
Out, out, Old Age! aroint ye! 417.
Over the Carib Sea to-night, 356.
Poet, in thy sacred verse, 397.
Poet, wherefore hither bring, 257.
Prithee tell me, Dimple-Chin, 368.
Queen Katherine of Arragon, 363.
Rosemary! could we but give you, 219.
Round the old board once more we feast together! 135.
Sadde songe is out of season, 440.
See, what a beauty! Half-shut eyes, 442.
Seven women loved him. When the wrinkled pall, 402.
She seemed an angel to our infant eyes! 400.
Sleeping, I dreamed that thou wast mine, 369.
So that soldierly legend is still on its journey, 11.
Soe, Mistress Anne, faire neighbour myne, 124.
Sons of New England, in the fray, 13.
Splendors of morning the billow-crests brighten, 309.
Sweetheart, name the day for me, 385.
That border land 'twixt Day and Night be mine, 210.
That sovereign thought obscured? That vision clear, 207.
That year our Equinoctial came along, 303.
That year? Yes, doubtless I remember still, 441.
The conference-meeting through at last, 109.
The hand that drew thee lies in Roman soil, 451.
The second landing-place. Above, 96.
The silent world is sleeping, 380.
The sunset darkens in the west, 370.
The sunset fires old Portsmouth spires, 449.
The sweetest sound our whole year round, 317.
The tryst is kept. How fares it with each one, 136.
475
