Cologne for the Holy Land. When they reached Genoa only seven thousand remained. There, as the sea did not divide to a low them to march dry-shod to the

East, they broke up. Some got as far as Rome; two ship-loads sailed from Pisa, and were not heard of again; the rest straggled back to Germany.

Forth upon the Gitche Gumee, 157.
Four by the clock! and yet not day, 408.
Four limpid lakes, - four Naiades, 409.
From the outskirts of the town, 229.
From this high portal where upsprings, 390.
Full of wrath was Hiawatha, 178.

Gaddi mi fece; il Ponte Vecchio sono, 368.
Garlands upon his grave, 358.

Gentle Spring! in sunshine clad, 19.
Gently swaying to and fro, 346.

Give me of your bark, O Birch-tree, 156.

Gloomy and dark art thou, O chief of the mighty Omahas, 85.

Glove of black in white hand bare, 231.
God sent his messenger the rain, 572.
God sent his Singers upon earth, 134.
Good night! good night, beloved, 63.
Guarding the mountains around, 348.

Hadst thou stayed, I must have fled, 286.
Half of my life is gone, and I have let, 40.
Hark! Hark! 646.

Haste and hide thee, 347.

Hast thou seen that lordly castle, 23.
Have I dreamed? or was it real, 231.
Have you read in the Talmud of old, 225.
He is dead, the beautiful youth, 321.
He is gone to the desert land! 336.
Here in a little rustic hermitage, 384.

Here lies the gentle humorist, who died, 380.
High on their turreted cliffs, 348.
Honor be to Mudjekeewis! 144.
How beautiful is the rain, 81.

How beautiful it was, that one bright day, 319.
How cold are thy baths, Apollo! 396.

How I started up in the night, in the night, 340. How many lives, made beautiful and sweet, 321. How much of my young heart, O Spain, 373. How strange it seems! These Hebrews in their graves, 216.

Intelligence and courtesy not always are combined, 94.

In that building, long and low, 220.
In that desolate land and lone, 375.
In the ancient town of Bruges, 76.
In the convent of Drontheim, 262.

In the heroic days when Ferdinand, 264.

In the long, sleepless watches of the night, 31. In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry old and brown, 77.

In the old churchyard of his native town, 401. In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims, 191.

In the valley of the Pegnitz, where across broad meadow-lands, 79.

In the Valley of the Vire, 217.

In the village churchyard she lies, 214.
In the workshop of Hephaestus, 341.
In those days said Hiawatha, 172.
In those days the Evil Spirits, 174.
Into the city of Kambalu, 275.

Into the darkness and the hush of night, 401. Into the open air John Alden, perplexed and bewildered, 198.

Into the Silent Land, 24.

I pace the sounding sea-beach and behold, 365. I said unto myself, if I were dead, 367.

I saw, as in a dream sublime, 84.

I saw the long line of the vacant shore, 367.

I see amid the fields of Ayr, 397.

I shot an arrow into the air, 90.

Is it so far from thee, 395.

I stand again on the familiar shore, 364.

I stand beneath the tree, whose branches shade, 384.

I stood on the bridge at midnight, 85.

I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch, 8.

Italy Italy thou who 'rt doomed to wear,

339.

I thought this Pen would arise, 396.

towers, 322.

How the Titan, the defiant, 344.

How they so softly rest, 22.

I am poor and old and blind, 362.

I am the God Thor, 246.

I enter, and I see thee in the gloom, 322.

If perhaps these rhymes of mine should sound

not well in strangers' ears, 94.

If thou art sleeping, maiden, 74.

I have a vague remembrance, 229.

I have read, in some old, marvellous tale, 5.

I hear along our street, 140.

I heard a brooklet gushing, 22.

I heard a voice, that cried, 133.

I heard the bells, on Christmas Day, 319.

I heard the trailing garments of the Night, 2.

I know a maiden fair to see, 23.

I lay upon the headland-height, and listened, 317.

I leave you, ye cold mountain chains, 391.
I lift mine eyes, and all the windows blaze, 322.
I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls,
37.

In Attica thy birthplace should have been, 364.
In broad daylight, and at noon, 216.
In dark fens of the Dismal Swamps, 42.
In his chamber, weak and dying, 80.
In his lodge beside a river, 186.

In Mather's Magnalia Christi, 212.

In Ocean's wide domains, 43.

In St. Luke's Gospel we are told, 399.

It is the Harvest Moon! On gilded vanes, 382.

I trust that somewhere and somehow, 277.

It was Einar Tamberskelver, 261.

It was fifty years ago, 224.

It was Sir Christopher Gardiner, 314.

It was the schooner Hesperus, 27.

It was the season when through all the land, 268.

Janus am I; oldest of potentates, 403.
Joy and Temperance and Repose, 93.
Just above yon sandy bar, 126.

Just in the gray of the dawn, as the mists uprose from the meadows, 200.

King Christian stood by the lofty mast, 21. King Ring with his queen to the banquet did fare, 641.

King Solomon, before his palace gate, 293

Labor with what zeal we will, 227.

Lady, how can it chance yet this we see, 393. Laugh of the mountain!-lyre of bird and tree! 17.

Leafless are the trees; their purple branches, 220.

Let him who will, by force or fraud innate, 413. Let nothing disturb thee, 340.

Like two cathedral towers these stately pines 400.

Listen my children, and you shall hear, 235.
Little sweet wine of Jurançon, 412.

Live I, so live I, 94.

Lo in the painted oriel of the West, 90.
Longing already to search in and round, 18.
Lord, what am I, that with unceasing care, 16.
Loud he sang the psalm of David, 42.
Loud sang the Spanish cavalier, 70.
Loud the angry wind was wailing, 254.
Loudly the sailors cheered, 259.

Love, love, what wilt thou with this heart of mine, 648.

Lull me to sleep, ye winds, whose fitful sound, 367.

Lutheran, Popish, Calvinistic, all these creeds and doctrines three, 94.

Maiden! with the meek, brown eyes, 39.
Man-like is it to fall into sin, 93.

Meanwhile the stalwart Miles Standish was
marching steadily northward, 205.
Month after month passed away, and in Au-
tumn the ships of the merchants, 207.
Mounted on Kyrat strong and fleet, 377.
Much it behoveth, 645.

My soul its secret has, my life too has its mystery, 648.

Neglected record of a mind neglected, 637.
Never shall souls like these, 351.
Never stoops the soaring vulture, 183.

Nine sisters, beautiful in form and face, 381.
No more shall I see, 643.

Northward over Drontheim, 258.

No sound of wheels or hoof-beat breaks, 359. Not fashioned out of gold, like Hera's throne, 341.

Nothing that is shall perish utterly, 415.
Nothing the greatest artist can conceive, 392.
Nothing was heard in the room but the hurrying
pen of the stripling, 193.

Not without fire can any workman mould, 392.
Now from all King Olaf's farms, 249.
Nowhere such a devious stream, 363.

Now the zephyrs diminish the cold, and the year being ended, 389.

Now Time throws off his cloak again, 646.

O hemlock tree! O hemlock tree! how faithful are thy branches, 92.

Oh, give me back the days when loose and free, 392.

Oh, how blest are ye whose toils are ended, 644.
Oh let the soul her slumbers break, 11.
Oh, that a Song would sing itself to me, 384.
Oh, the long and weary Winter, 185.
Olaf the King, one summer morn, 251.
Olger the Dane and Desiderio, 294.

O little feet! that such long years, 228.

O Lord! who seest, from yon starry height, 17.

O lovely river of Yvette, 376.

Once into a quiet village, 133.
Once more, once more, Inarimé, 374.

Once on a time, some centuries ago, 304.

Once the Emperor Charles of Spain, 215.
Once upon Iceland's solitary strand, 385.
One Autumn night, in Sudbury town, 232.
One day, Haroun Al Raschid read, 378.
One hundred years ago, and something more,
283.

One morning all alone, 523.

One summer morning, when the sun was hot. 237.

On King Olaf's bridal night, 252.

On St. Bavon's tower, commanding. 376.
On sunny slope and beechen swell, 10.
On the cross the dying Saviour, 93.
On the gray sea-sands, 260.

On the green little isle of Inchkenneth, 378.
On the Mountains of the Prairie, 142.
On the shores of Gitche Gumee, 159.
On the top of a mountain I stand, 70.
O precious evenings! all too swiftly sped, 134.
O River of Yesterday, with current swift, 383.
O star of morning and of liberty, 323.
O sweet illusions of Song, 228.
Othere, the old sea-captain, 222.

O traveller, stay thy weary feet, 638.
Our God, a tower of strength is He, 573.
Out of childhood into manhood, 149.
Out of the bosom of the Air, 227.
O weathercock on the village spire, 399.
O ye dead Poets, who are living still, 381.

Rabbi Ben Levi, on the Sabbath, read, 242.
Rio Verde, Rio Verde, 638.

River! that in silence windest, 38.

River, that stealest with such silent pace, 364.
Robert of Sicily, brother of Pope Urbane, 243.

Sadly as some old mediæval knight, 414.
Safe at anchor in Drontheim bay, 257.
Saint Augustine! well hast thou said, 212.
St. Botolph's Town! Hither across the plains,
383.

San Miguel de la Tumba is a convent vast and wide, 640.

See, the fire is sinking low, 320.

She dwells by Great Kenhawa's side, 42.
She is a maid of artless grace, 640.
Shepherd! who with thine amorous, sylvan
song, 16.

Short of stature, large of limb, 253.
Should any one there in Rome remember Ovid,
the exile, 387.

Should you ask me, whence these stories, 141.
Simon Danz has come home again, 373.
Sing, O Song of Hiawatha, 170.

Sir Oluf he rideth over the plain, 29.
Sleep, comrades, sleep and rest, 408.
Slowly, slowly up the wall, 549.

Slowly the hour-hand of the clock moves round, 383.

Soft through the silent air descend the feathery snowflakes, 637.