Verse > Anthologies > Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. > The Oxford Book of English Verse
Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Index of First Lines
Sabrina fair
Twenty years hence my eyes may grow
Sabrina fair
Safe where I cannot die yet
Say, crimson Rose and dainty Daffodil
Say not the struggle naught availeth
Says Tweed to Till
Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frown'd
Seamen three! What men be ye?
Seas are quiet when the winds give o'er
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
See how the flowers, as at parade
See the Chariot at hand here of Love
See where she sits upon the grassie greene
See with what simplicity
See yon blithe child that dances in our sight!
Sense with keenest edge unusèd
Seven weeks of sea, and twice seven days of storm
Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Shall I strew on thee rose or rue or laurel
Shall I thus ever long, and be no whit the neare?
Shall I, wasting in despair
She beat the happy pavèment
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
She fell away in her first ages spring
She is not fair to outward view
She knelt upon her brother's grave
She pass'd away like morning dew
She 's somewhere in the sunlight strong
She stood breast-high amid the corn
She walks in beauty, like the night
She walks—the lady of my delight
She was a phantom of delight
She was a queen of noble Nature's crowning
She who to Heaven more Heaven doth annex
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night
Since all that I can ever do for thee
Since first I saw your face I resolved to honour and renown ye
Since I noo mwore do zee your feäce
Since there 's no help, come let us kiss and part
Sing his praises that doth keep
Sing lullaby, as women do
Sister, awake! close not your eyes!
Sleep, sleep, beauty bright
Softly, O midnight Hours!
Some vex their souls with jealous pain
Soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings
So shuts the marigold her leaves
Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!
So, we'll go no more a-roving
Spacious firmament on high
Splendour falls on castle walls
Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king
Stand close around, ye Stygian set
Star that bids the Shepherd fold
Stay, O sweet and do not rise!
Steer, hither steer your wingèd pines
Stern Daughter of the Voice of God!
Still do the stars impart their light
Still let my tyrants know, I am not doom'd to wear
Still to be neat, still to be drest
Strange fits of passion have I known
Strew on her roses, roses
Sublime—invention ever young
Sumer is icumen in
Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare
Sun descending in the west
Sun rises bright in France
Sure thou didst flourish once! and many springs
Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind
Swallow, my sister, O sister swallow
Sweet are the rosy memories of the lips
Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright!
Sweet Echo, sweetest Nymph that liv'st unseen
Sweetest Saviour, if my soul
Sweet in her green dell the flower of beauty slumbers
Sweet rois of vertew and of gentilness
Sweet Spring, thou turn'st with all thy goodly train
Sweet western wind, whose luck it is
Swiftly walk o'er the western wave

Take, O take those lips away
Tarye no lenger; toward thyn heritage
Tell me not of a face that 's fair
Tell me not what too well I know
Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind
Tell me where is Fancy bred
Thank Heaven! the crisis
That time of year thou may'st in me behold
That which her slender waist confined
That zephyr every year
Thee too, modest tressèd maid
Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now
There ance was a may, and she lo'ed na men
There are two births; the one when light
There be none of Beauty's daughters
There is a garden in her face
There is a Lady sweet and kind
There is a mountain and a wood between us
There is a silence where hath been no sound
There is sweet music here that softer falls
There lived a wife at Usher's well
There 's a glade in Aghadoe, Aghadoe, Aghadoe
There 's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield
There 's a woman like a dewdrop, she 's so purer than the purest
There's not a nook within this solemn Pass
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream
There were three ravens sat on a tree
There were twa sisters sat in a bour
They all were looking for a king
They are all gone into the world of light!
They are waiting on the shore
They flee from me that sometime did me seek
They seem'd, to those who saw them meet
They that have power to hurt and will do none
They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead
Thirsty earth soaks up the rain
This ae nighte, this ae nighte
This hinder yeir I hard be tald
This is a spray the Bird clung to
This little vault, this narrow room
This winter's weather it waxeth cold
Thou art to all lost love the best
Though beauty be the mark of praise
Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness
Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies
Three years she grew in sun and shower
Through grief and through danger thy smile hath cheer'd my way
Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts
Throw away Thy rod
Thus the Mayne glideth
Thus when the silent grave becomes
Thy bosom is endearèd with all hearts
Thy restless feet now cannot go
Thy soul within such silent pomp did keep
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
Time is the feather'd thing
Tis a dull sight
To all you ladies now at land
To-day, all day, I rode upon the down
To fair Fidele's grassy tomb
To live within a cave—it is most good
To me, fair friend, you never can be old
To mute and to material things
To my true king I offer'd free from stain
To-night retired, the queen of heaven
Too late for love, too late for joy
Too solemn for day, too sweet for night
Tossing his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles
To the Ocean now I fly
To these whom death again did wed
True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank
Trust thou thy Love: if she be proud, is she not sweet?
Twas on a lofty vase's side
'Twas the dream of a God
Twentieth year is wellnigh past
Twenty years hence my eyes may grow

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