A beautiful and happy girl, 421.
A bending staff I would not break, 470.
A blush as of roses, 349.
Above, below, in sky and sod, 475.
Accept this book, whose pages hold, 576.
A Christian! going, gone, 314.
A cloud, like that the old-time Hebrew saw, 181.
Across the frozen marshes, 412.
Across the sea I heard the groans, 416.
Across the Stony Mountains, o'er the desert's
drouth and sand, 336.
A dirge is wailing from the Gulf of storm-vexed
Mexico, 531.
A drear and desolate shore, 139.
A few brief years have passed away, 324.
After your pleasant morning travel, 568.
Against the sunset's glowing wall, 463.
Against the wooded hills it stands, 148.
A gold fringe on the purpling hem, 177.
All day the darkness and the cold, 158.
All grim and soiled and brown with tan, 398.
All hail!' the bells of Christmas rang, 503.
All night above their rocky bed, 350.
'All ready?' cried the captain, 289.
All things are Thine: no gift have we, 253.
Along Crane River's sunny slopes, 129.
Along the aisle where prayer was made, 488.
Along the roadside, like the flowers of gold, 90.
Amidst these glorious works of Thine, 248.
Amidst Thuringia's wooded hills she dwelt, 146.
Amidst thy sacred effigies, 381.
Among their graven shapes to whom, 230.
Among the legends sung or said, 142.
A night of wonder! piled afar, 555.
Annie and Rhoda, sisters twain, 108.
A noteless stream, the Birchbrook runs, 146.
Another hand is beckoning us, 195.
A picture memory brings to me, 448.
A pious magistrate! sound his praise throughout,
Around Sebago's lonely lake, 11.
As Adam did in Paradise, 239.
As a guest who may not stay, 234.
A score of years had come and gone, 126.
A shallow stream, from fountains, 446.
As Islam's Prophet, when his last day drew, 148.
As o'er his furrowed fields which lie, 386.
A sound as if from bells of silver, 173.
A sound of tumult troubles all the air, 351.
As they who, tossing midst the storm at night,
As they who watch by sick-beds find relief, 85.
A strength Thy service cannot tire, 327.
A strong and mighty Angel, 376.
A tale for Roman guides to tell, 145.
A tender child of summers three, 505.
At morn I prayed, 'I fain would see, 473.
A track of moonlight on a quiet lake, 206.
Bards of the island city!-where of old, 560.
Beams of noon, like burning lances, through the
tree-tops flash and glisten, 332.
Bearer of Freedom's holy light, 383.
Bear him, comrades, to his grave, 348.
Before my drift-wood fire I sit, 513.
Before the Ender comes, whose charioteer
Among the thousands who with hail and cheer, Behind us at our evening meal, 482.
519.
A moony breadth of virgin face, 338.
And have they spurned thy word, 556.
Andrew Rykman 's dead and gone, 478.
Believe me, Lucy Larcom, it gives me res
And where now, Bayard, will thy footsteps tend? Beneath thy skies, November, 35
565.
Beneath the low-hung night cloud,
Beneath the moonlight and the sr,
sup.
Beside a stricken field I stood, 3
|