Behold-a length of hundred leagues displayed—

Beneath me was the misty sea.

Beneath the hedge, or near the stream

By the grey sand-hills, o'er the cold sea-shore: where, dumbly
peering

Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way

Dear garden! once again with lingering look
Delicate leaves, with your shifting colours

Down the sultry arc of day

Early in spring-time, on raw and windy mornings

Fair Daffodils, we weep to see.

Fair pledges of a fruitful tree.

Flow, river, flow.

For lo, what think you? suddenly

From yonder wood mark blue-eyed Eve proceed.
Frost-locked all the winter

Green little vaulter in the sunny grass

Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove

Hail to thee, blithe spirit.

Here the rude clamour of the sportman's joy.
Hush my heedless feet from under

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers

If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song
I'll pay my rent in music,' said a thrush

I love at eventide to walk alone

In spring and summer winds may blow

Into the sunshine, full of the light

I see a column of slow-rising smoke

I stood tiptoe upon a little hill

I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch

It chanced upon the merry merry Christmas eve

It is the midnight hour:-the beauteous sea.
It seems a day

I walked by mysel' ower the sweet braes o' Yarrow

I wandered lonely as a cloud.

Lie here, without a record of thy worth

Mark how the feathered tenants of the flood.
Mine be a cot beside the hill

No cloud, no relique of the sunken day

Now from the roost, or from the neighbouring pale.
Now that the winter's gone, the earth hath lost
Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger

O blithe new comer! I have heard

Oh! Sky-lark, for thy wing

Oh the summer night

On his morning rounds the master

There is a stream (I name not its name, lest inquisitive tourist

.

Thou comest, autumn, heralded by the rain
Thou wert out betimes, thou busy, busy bee.
'Tis merry in greenwood,-thus runs the old lay
'Tis merry ov a zummer's day.

To yonder hill, whose sides, deform'd and steep.
Turn to the watery world!--but who to thee

'Twer when the busy birds did vlee
Underneath an old oak tree.

Untremulous in the river clear
Wake! wake! wake to the hunting

Wee, sleekit, cowrin', tim'rous beastie

We walked within the Churchyard bounds

When Autumn scatters his departing gleams
When winter winds are piercing chill
Wild rose, sweetbriar, eglantine

Winter is cold-hearted.

Winter is past; the heart of Nature warms

With little here to do or see

Ye field flowers! the gardens eclipse you, 'tis true
Yet the rich blessing which this hour bestows