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Dear friend, far off, my lost desire,
Dear love, for nothing less than thee

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Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Drink to me only with thine eyes,

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Eternal Spirit of the chainless mind!

Earth has not anything to show more fair:
E'en like two little bank-dividing brooks,

Even in a palace, life may be led well!
Even such is time, that takes in trust

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Five years have past; five summers, with the length

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Flee fro the prees, and dwelle with sothfastnesse,

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Get thee behind me. Even as, heavy-curled,

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Get up, get up for shame! The blooming morn

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Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Go, lovely Rose!

Grow old along with me!

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Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,

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Here lies a man much wronged in his hopes,

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Here lies our Sovereign Lord the King,

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Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,

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Here, wandering long, amid these frowning fields,

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Her eyes the glowworm lend thee,

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Highway, since you my chief Parnassus be,

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How changed is here each spot man makes or fills!

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How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

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How happy is he born and taught

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How like a winter hath my absence been

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How poor, how rich, how abject, how august
How sleep the Brave who sink to rest
How vainly men themselves amaze .

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I have had playmates, I have had companions,

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I have lived long enough, having seen one thing, that love hath an end;

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I long to talk with some old lover's ghost.

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I met a traveller from an antique land.

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In a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland,

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I strove with none; for none was worth my strife,

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I've heard them lilting, at our ewe-milking,

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I wandered lonely as a cloud

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I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile!

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Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust;
Let me not to the marriage of true minds.
Like to a silkworm of one year,
Little lamb, who made thee?

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Live in these conquering leaves: live all the same;
Look in my face; my name is Might-have-been;
Lords, knights, and 'squires, the numerous band,
Lord, Thou hast given me a cell

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Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,
Love in my bosom, like a bee,

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Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours,

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Lyke as a ship, that through the ocean wyde,

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Methought I saw my late espoused saint
Milton's the prince of poets-so we say;
Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour:

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Mirry Margaret

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More than most faire, full of the living fire

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Mortality, behold and fear!

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Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,

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Never seek to tell thy love,

My sheep are thoughts, which I both guide and serve;
"My tongue cannot express my grief for one,

No more, my Dear, no more these counsels try;
Nor force nor fraud shall sunder us!
O ye

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
Not, Celia, that I juster am

Not if men's tongues and angels' all in one
Not in the crises of events, .

O blithe New-comer! I have heard,

O'er Cornwall's cliffs the tempest roared,

Of Adam's first wife, Lilith, it is told

O for some honest lover's ghost,

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Of this fair volume which we World do name

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Oh Galuppi, Baldassare, this is very sad to find!
Oh, that those lips had language!

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O where have you been, my long, long love,

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O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,

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"Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas," she says,
Roses at first were white,

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Rough wind, that moanest loud

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"Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!

Say, Earth, why hast thou got thee new attire,

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Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
Silent Nymph, with curious eye! .

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part.

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Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears:
So all day long the noise of battle roll'd
So forth issew'd the seasons of the yeare:

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Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king;

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Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind,

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That's my last Duchess painted on the wall, .

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That time of year thou mayst in me behold
That which her slender waist confined,
The blessed damozel leaned out

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The changing guests, each in a different mood,

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The last and greatest herald of Heaven's King
The man of life upright,

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There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
Ther was in Asie, in a gret citee,

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The sea is calm to-night,

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These, as they change, Almighty Father, these,

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The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings,

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The world is too much with us; late and soon,

They are all gone into the world of Light,

The year's at the spring

This hindir yeir I hard be tald,

This little vault, this narrow room,

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Thou art not fair, for all thy red and white,

Thou art too hard for me in Love.

Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,

Thou that hast fashioned twice this soul of ours,

Three poets, in three distant ages born,

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Thus said the Lord in the Vault above the Cherubim,

Thy voice is on the rolling air;

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Tiger! Tiger! burning bright

Timely blossom, Infant fair,

To be a sweetness more desired than Spring;
To fair Fidele's grassy tomb

Toll for the Brave!

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To me 'twas given to die: to thee 'tis given

To see the world in a grain of sand,

To the Lords of Convention 't was Claver'se who spoke,
Trusty, dusky, vivid, true,

'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won

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Under yonder beech-tree single on the greensward,

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We are in love's land to-day;

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Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan;

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Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,

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When he, who adores thee, has left but the name

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When I am dead, my dearest,

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When I bethinke me on that speech whyl-eare

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When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,

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When the hounds of spring are on winter's traces,

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When the old flaming Prophet climb'd the sky,
When to her lute Corinna sings,

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When to the sessions of sweet silent thought.
When we two parted

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Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn?

Where lies the land to which the ship would go?

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