• Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
• Adam lay i-boundyn,
• anyone lived in a pretty how town
• As I walked out one evening,
• Away, for we are ready to a man!
• Belinda lived in a little white house,
• Below the thunders of the upper deep;
• Bright, fine gold,
• Christopher Robin
• Come lie with me and be my love
• Do not go gentle into that good night,
• Does the road wind uphill all the way?
• Earth in beauty dressed
• Evil evil evil evil evil
• Go and catch a falling star,
• Halt! What do you want? Hell take you! Speak!
• He chanted a song of wizardry
• Helen of Troy has sprung from Hell
• Here then at home, by no more storms distrest,
• High up on the lonely mountains,
• How ill doth he deserve a lover’s name
• I didn’t get much sleep last night
• I do not like my state of mind;
• I heard a voice, that cried,
• I know you are sweeter
• I that in heill was and gladnèss
• I walked with Maisie long years back
• I went out to the hazel wood,
• I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree
• I will build up my house from the stark foundations,
• If you wake at midnight, and hear a horse’s feet,
• In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
• Isabel met an enormous bear,
• It was many and many a year ago,
• Jenny kissed me when we met,
• Lay your sleeping head, my love,
• Let’s straighten this out, my little man,
• Love is enough: though the World be a-waning,
• Master, this is Thy Servant. He is rising eight weeks old.
• Morning and evening
• My heart is like a singing bird
• My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,
• Nobody heard him, the dead man,
• Not, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee
• No worst, there is none. Pitched past pitch of grief,
• O eyes that strip the souls of men!
• “O I forbid you, maidens a’,
• Oh, I’m in love with the janitor’s boy
• Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
• Razors pain you;
• Remember me when I am gone away,
• Should I get married? Should I be good?
• Sometime during eternity
• Stowed away in a Montreal lumber-room
• The fire is out, and spent the warmth thereof,
• The further the little girl leaped and ran,
• The ladies men admire, I’ve heard,
• The people upstairs all practice ballet.
• The unpurged images of day recede;
• The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
• There once was a Dormouse who lived in a bed
• There’s little in taking or giving,
• They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
• True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank,
• Turning and turning in the widening gyre
• ’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
• Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
• Unwillingly Miranda wakes,
• We who with songs beguile your pilgrimage
• Wélund him be wurman,     wráeces cunnade
• We’re foot — slog — slog — slog — sloggin’ over Africa —
• When awful darkness and silence reign
• When I am dead, my dearest,
• When Tom and Elizabeth took the farm
• Where the water-lilies go