A blush as of roses, 392.

A boy drove into the city, his wagon loaded down, 209.

A cheer and salute for the Admiral, and here's to the Captain bold, 637.

A cliff-locked port and a bluff sea wall, 319.

A cloud possessed the hollow field, 491.

A cycle was closed and rounded, 196.

A flash of light across the night, 517.

A fleet with flags arrayed, 110.

A gallant foeman in the fight, 524.

A grand attempt some Amazonian Dames, 85.

A granite cliff on either shore, 593.

A handful came to Seicheprey, 672.

A hundred thousand Northmen, 419.

A midnight cry appalls the gloom, 334.

A moonless night—a friendly one, 498.

A pillar of fire by night, 513.

A score of years had come and gone, 74.

A song unto Liberty's brave Buccaneer, 222.

A story of Ponce de Leon, 21.

A summer Sunday morning, 424.

A transient city, marvellously fair, 649.

A voice went over the waters, 608.

A Yankee ship and a Yankee crew, 327.

Abraham Lincoln, the Dear President, 539.

Across the Stony Mountains, o'er the desert's drouth and sand, 372.

After the eyes that looked, the lips that spake, 497.

After the war—I hear men ask—what then, 678.

Again Columbia's stripes, unfurl'd, 302.

Again the summer-fevered skies, 503.

Ah, you mistake me, comrades, to think that my heart is steel, 200.

All alone on the hillside, 585.

All day long the guns at the forts, 475.

All day the great guns barked and roared, 213.

All hail! Unfurl the Stripes and Stars, 403.

All night upon the guarded hill, 390.

"All quiet along the Potomac," they say, 433.

All summer long the people knelt, 590.

Aloft upon an old basaltic crag, 379.

Along a river-side, I know not where, 450.

America! dear brother land, 614.

America, my own, 659.

America! thou fractious nation, 138.

An American frigate from Baltimore came, 224.

"An empire to be lost or won," 342.

An eye with the piercing eagle's fire, 560.

"And now," said the Governor, gazing abroad on the piled-up store, 60.

And they have thrust our shattered dead away in foreign graves, 612.

Are these the honors they reserve for me, 17.

"Are you ready, O Virginia," 627.

Arms reversed and banners craped, 511.

Arnold! the name as heretofore, 238.

As billows upon billows roll, 524.

As hang two mighty thunderclouds, 361.

As men who fight for home and child and wife, 198.

As near beauteous Boston lying, 137.

As to kidnap the Congress has long been my aim, 205.

As vonce I valked by a dismal svamp, 401.

At anchor in Hampton Roads we lay, 464.

At Eutaw Springs the valiant died, 255.

At length 'tis done, the glorious conflict's done, 118.

At the door of his hut sat Massasoit, 60.

Avast, honest Jack! now, before you get mellow, 303.

Awake! arise, ye men of might, 363.

Awake! awake! my gallant friends, 339.

Awake, ye nations, slumbering supine, 661.

Ay! drop the treacherous mask! throw by, 476.

Ay, it is fitting on this holiday, 664.

Ay, let it rest! And give us peace, 607.

Ay, shout and rave, thou cruel sea, 380.

Ay, tear her tattered ensign down, 351.

Aye, lads, aye, we fought 'em, 618.

Back from the trebly crimsoned field, 435.

Be then your counsels, as your subject, great, 270.

Bear him, comrades, to his grave, 389.

Before our eyes a pageant rolled, 578.

Before the living bronze Saint-Gaudens made, 646.

Behind him lay the gray Azores, 14.

Behold her Seven Hills loom white, 658.

Behold, we have gathered together our battleships, near and afar, 620.

Beneath our consecrated elm, 168.

Beneath the blistering tropical sun, 629.

Beside that tent and under guard, 586.

Beside the lone river, 581.

Blackened and bleeding, helpless, panting, prone, 569.

Bob Anderson, my beau, Bob, when we were first aquent, 403.

Born, nurtured, wedded, prized, within the pale, 349.

Boy Brittan—only a lad—a fair-haired boy—sixteen, 455.

Bright on the banners of lily and rose, 574.

Bring cypress, rosemary and rue, 658.

Bring the good old bugle, boys, we'll sing another song, 513.

Britannia's gallant streamers, 296.

Britons grown big with pride, 173.

Brothers in blood! They who this wrong began, 666.

Bury the Dragon's Teeth, 508.

By Cavité on the bay, 619.

By Chickamauga's crooked stream the martial trumpets blew, 501.

By the beard of the Prophet the Bashaw swore, 281.

By the flow of the inland river, 563.

By the rude bridge that arched the flood, 351.

[706]

Cæsar, afloat with his fortunes, 462.

Call Martha Corey, 92.

Calm as that second summer which precedes, 507.

Calm martyr of a noble cause, 545.

Calmly beside her tropic strand, 515.

Came the morning of that day, 404.

Chained by stern duty to the rock of state, 537.

Champion of those who groan beneath, 385.

Cheer up, my young men all, 122.

"Chuff! chuff! chuff!" An' a mountain-bluff, 652.

Close his eyes; his work is done, 442.

Cold, cold is the north wind and rude is the blast, 109.

Columbia, appear!—To thy mountains ascend, 305.

Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, 180.

Columbus looked; and still around them spread, 273.

Come, all ye bold Americans, to you the truth I tell, 257.

Come all ye lads who know no fear, 226.

Come all ye sons of Brittany, 112.

Come all ye Yankee sailors, with swords and pikes advance, 280.

Come all you brave Americans, 237.

Come all you brave soldiers, both valiant and free, 179.

Come, all you sons of Liberty, that to the seas belong, 296.

Come, brothers! rally for the right, 413.

Come, cheer up, my lads, like a true British band, 130.

Come, come fill up your glasses, 132.

Come, each death-doing dog who dares venture his neck, 121.

Come, fill the beaker, while we chaunt a pean of old days, 119.

Come, Freemen of the land, 509.

Come, gentlemen Tories, firm, loyal, and true, 229.

Come let us rejoice, 245.

Come, listen all unto my song, 565.

Come listen and I'll tell you, 221.

Come listen, good neighbors of every degree, 131.

Come listen to the Story of brave Lathrop and his Men, 82.

Come muster, my lads, your mechanical tools, 270.

Come, rouse up, ye bold-hearted Whigs of Kentucky, 353.

Come sheathe your swords! my gallant boys, 239.

Come, stack arms, men! Pile on the rails, 483.

Come swallow your bumpers, ye Tories, and roar, 143.

Come unto me, ye heroes, 202.

Come, ye lads, who wish to shine, 287.

Comes a cry from Cuban water, 609.

Compassionate eyes had our brave John Brown, 397.

Concentred here th' united wisdom shines, 269.

Content within his wigwam warm, 73.

Cornwallis led a country dance, 256.

"Cut the cables!" the order read, 622.

Dark as the clouds of even, 500.

Dawn of a pleasant morning in May, 518.

Dawn peered through the pines as we dashed at the ford, 488.

Day of glory! Welcome day, 179.

Daybreak upon the hills, 547.

Dead! Is it possible? He, the bold rider, 582.

Death, why so cruel? What! no other way, 45.

Delusions of the days that once have been, 88.

Did you hear of the fight at Corinth, 458.

Do you know how the people of all the land, 49.

Do you know of the dreary land, 468.

Down in the bleak December bay, 59.

Down Loudon Lanes, with swinging reins, 482.

Down the Little Big Horn, 580.

Down toward the deep-blue water, 668.

Dreary and brown the night comes down, 10.

Ebbed and flowed the muddy Pei-Ho by the gulf of Pechili, 380.

Eight volunteers! on an errand of death, 626.

Eighty and nine with their captain, 438.

El Emplazado, the Summoned, the Doomed One, 613.

Ere five score years have run their tedious rounds, 125.

Ere Murfreesboro's thunders rent the air, 459.

Fair were our visions! Oh, they were as grand, 546.

Fallen? How fallen? States and empires fall, 376.

Fallen with autumn's fallen leaf, 590.

Famine once we had, 69.

Far spread, below, 3.

Farewell! for now a stormy morn and dark, 650.

Farewell, Peace! another crisis, 287.

Farragut, Farragut, 528.

Father and I went down to camp, 159.

First in the fight, and first in the arms, 454.

Five fearless knights of the first renown, 34.

Flawless his heart and tempered to the core, 128.

"Fly to the mountain! Fly," 601.

For him who sought his country's good, 280.

For sixty days and upwards, 499.

For us, the dead, though young, 674.

Foreboding sudden of untoward change, 599.

"Forgive them, for they know not what they do," 538.

Four-and-eighty years are o'er me; great-grandchildren sit before me, 211.

Four gallant ships from England came, 309.

Four times the sun has risen and set; and now on the fifth day, 115.

Four young men, of a Monday morn, 155.

France, 666.

Francisco Coronado rode forth with all his train, 31.

Free are the Muses, and where freedom is, 641.

Freedom called them—up they rose, 606.

Fresh palms for the Old Dominion, 395.

From a junto that labor for absolute power, 176.

From dawn to dark they stood, 441.

From dusk till dawn the livelong night, 191.

From France, desponding and betray'd, 312.

From Halifax station a bully there came, 289.

From keel to fighting top, I love, 618.

From Lewis, Monsieur Gérard came, 214.

From out my deep, wide-bosomed West, 587.

From out the North-land his leaguer he led, 199.

From Santiago, spurning the morrow, 635.

From the commandant's quarters on Westchester height, 231.[707]

From the laurel's fairest bough, 307.

From the Rio Grande's waters to the icy lakes of Maine, 364.

From this hundred-terraced height, 573.

From Yorktown on the fourth of May, 436.

Furl that Banner, for 'tis weary, 547.

Gallants attend, and hear a friend, 208.

Gaunt in the midst of the prairie, 569.

Gentle and generous, brave-hearted, kind, 650.

Gift from the cold and silent Past, 4.

Giles Corey was a Wizard strong, 96.

"Give me but two brigades," said Hooker, frowning at fortified Lookout, 505.

Give me white paper, 18.

Glistering high in the midnight sky the starry rockets soar, 617.

Glorious the day when in arms at Assunpink, 189.

"Go, bring the captive, he shall die," 26.

God is shaping the great future of the Islands of the Sea, 641.

God makes a path, provides a guide, 72.

God send us peace, and keep red strife away, 447.

God wills no man a slave. The man most meek, 274.

Golden through the golden morning, 676.

Gone down in the flood, and gone out in the flame, 468.

Good Junipero, the Padre, 343.

Goody Bull and her daughter together fell out, 130.

Gray swept the angry waves, 466.

Great Sassacus fled from the eastern shores, 70.

Great soul, to all brave souls akin, 674.

Greece was; Greece is no more, 602.

Green be the turf above thee, 348.

Grown sick of war, and war's alarms, 261.

Guvener B. is a sensible man, 369.

Hail! Columbia, happy land, 277.

Hail, Freedom! thy bright crest, 596.

Hail, great Apollo! guide my feeble pen, 111.

Hail, happy Britain, Freedom's blest retreat, 144.

Hail sons of generous valor, 326.

Hail to Hobson! Hail to Hobson! hail to all the valiant set, 626.

Hail to thee, gallant foe, 638.

Hard aport! Now close to shore sail, 51.

Hark! do I hear again the roar, 18.

Hark! hark! down the century's long reaching slope, 592.

Hark! I hear the tramp of thousands, 442.

Hark! 'tis Freedom that calls, come, patriots, awake, 157.

Hark! 'tis the voice of the mountain, 254.

"Has the Marquis La Fayette," 240.

Have you heard the story that gossips tell, 493.

"He chases shadows," sneered the British tars, 19.

He took a thousand islands and he didn't lose a man, 620.

Hear through the morning drums and trumpets sounding, 325.

Heard ye how the bold McClellan, 434.

Heard ye that thrilling word, 439.

Hearken the stirring story, 27.

Here comes the Marshal, 76.

Here halt we our march, and pitch our tent, 157.

Here, in my rude log cabin, 323.

Here the oceans twain have waited, 651.

"Here we stan' on the Constitution, by thunder," 386.

Here's the spot. Look around you. Above on the height, 232.

Highlands of Hudson! ye saw them pass, 230.

His bark, 7.

His echoing axe the settler swung, 329.

"His policy," do you say, 559.

His soul to God! on a battle-psalm, 457.

His triumphs of a moment done, 260.

His work is done, his toil is o'er, 650.

"Ho, Rose!" quoth the stout Miles Standish, 58.

Ho, woodsmen of the mountain-side, 411.

Hobson went towards death and hell, 627.

"Home, home—where's my baby's home," 73.

Hooker's across! Hooker's across, 483.

How glows each patriot bosom that boasts a Yankee heart, 293.

How history repeats itself, 519.

How long, O sister, how long, 588.

How sad the note of that funereal drum, 347.

How spoke the King, in his crucial hour victorious, 676.

How stands the glass around, 121.

How sweetly on the wood-girt town, 105.

Huge and alert, irascible yet strong, 649.

Huzza for our liberty, boys, 286.

Huzza, my Jo Bunkers! no taxes we'll pay, 269.

I am a wandering, bitter shade, 146.

I gazed, and lo! Afar and near, 454.

I give my soldier boy a blade, 413.

I hear again the tread of war go thundering through the land, 456.

I heard the bells across the trees, 673.

I lay in my tent at mid-day, 440.

I lift these hands with iron fetters banded, 561.

I never have got the bearings quite, 378.

I often have been told, 288.

I pause not now to speak of Raleigh's dreams, 38.

I read last night of the Grand Review, 548.

I remember it well: 'twas a morn dull and gray, 248.

I saw her first abreast the Boston Light, 662.

Iberian! palter no more! By thine hands, 612.

Ice built, ice bound, and ice bounded, 567.

I'd weave a wreath for those who fought, 529.

If we dreamed that we loved Her aforetime, 'twas the ghost of a dream; for I vow, 657.

I'll tell you what I heard that day, 420.

Illustrious monarch of Iberia's soil, 9.

I'm a grandchild of the gods, 53.

In a chariot of light from the regions of day, 141.

In a stately hall at Brentford, when the English June was green, 43.

In a wood they call the Rouge Bouquet, 670.

In battle-line of sombre gray, 621.

In Cherbourg Roads the pirate lay, 525.

In Hampton Roads, the airs of March were bland, 463.

In Paco town and in Paco tower, 644.

In revel and carousing, 346.

In seventeen hundred and seventy-five, 171.

In spite of Rice, in spite of Wheat, 140.

In that desolate land and lone, 583.

In that soft mid-land where the breezes bear, 177.

In the gloomy ocean bed, 602.[708]

In the stagnant pride of an outworn race, 633.

In the tides of the warm south wind it lay, 25.

In their ragged regimentals, 206.

Into the thick of the fight he went, pallid, and sick and wan, 631.

Into the town of Conemaugh, 599.

Is it naught? Is it naught, 607.

Is it the wind, the many-tongued, the weird, 496.

Is this the price of beauty! Fairest, thou, 594.

Isle of a summer sea, 608.

It cannot be that men who are the seed, 572.

It don't seem hardly right, John, 430.

It fell upon us like a crushing woe, 416.

It is done, 481.

It is I, America, calling, 668.

It is no idle fabulous tale, nor is it fayned newes, 40.

It is not the fear of death, 238.

It is portentous, and a thing of state, 661.

It was a noble Roman, 403.

It was Captain Pierce of the Lion who strode the streets of London, 68.

It was early Sunday morning, in the year of sixty-four, 526.

It was less than two thousand we numbered, 511.

It was on the seventeenth, by break of day, 167.

It was Private Blair, of the regulars, before dread El Caney, 631.

It was that fierce contested field when Chickamauga lay, 502.

It was the schooner Hesperus, 351.

It wound through strange scarred hills, down cañons lone, 346.

John Brown died on the scaffold for the slave, 397.

John Brown in Kansas settled, like a steadfast Yankee farmer, 393.

John Brown of Ossawatomie spake on his dying day, 396.

John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave, 397.

John Bull, Esquire, my jo John, 432.

John Filson was a pedagogue, 331.

Joy in rebel Plymouth town, in the spring of sixty-four, 535.

July the twenty-second day, 242.

Just as the hour was darkest, 472.

Just as the spring came laughing through the strife, 482.

Just God! and these are they, 385.

Just in the gray of the dawn, as the mists uprose from the meadows, 63.

Kind Heaven, assist the trembling muse, 217.

King Hancock sat in regal state, 246.

Land of gold!—thy sisters greet thee, 346.

Land of the Wilful Gospel, thou worst and thou best, 265.

Lay down the axe; fling by the spade, 410.

Let the Nile cloak his head in the clouds, and defy, 341.

Light up thy homes, Columbia, 371.

Lights out! And a prow turned towards the South, 624.

Like the tribes of Israel, 514.

Listen, my children, and you shall hear, 144.

Lo, Joseph dreams his dream again, 677.

Loaded with gallant soldiers, 461.

Long lay the ocean-paths from man conceal'd, 8.

Long the tyrant of our coast, 290.

Look our ransomed shores around, 596.

Loud through the still November air, 570.

Mad Berkeley believed, with his gay cavaliers, 44.

Major-General Scott, 426.

Make room, all ye kingdoms, in history renown'd, 178.

Make room on our banner bright, 358.

March! March! March! from sunrise till it's dark, 193.

Mater á Dios, preserve us, 24.

Meanwhile the choleric Captain strode wrathful away to the council, 61.

Men of the North and West, 409.

Men said at vespers: "All is well," 568.

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord, 384.

Mistress Penelope Penwick, she, 186.

More ill at ease was never man than Walbach, that Lord's day, 306.

Morgan Stanwood, patriot, 151.

Mute he sat in the saddle,—mute 'midst our full acclaim, 520.

My country, 'tis of thee, ii.

My dear brother Ned, 228.

My lords, with your leave, 182.

Neglected long had been my useless lyre, 117.

Neptune and Mars in Council sate, 110.

Never mind the day we left, or the way the women clung to us, 604.

New England's annoyances, you that would know them, 65.

Night's diadem around thy head, 594.

No beggar she in the mighty hall where her bay-crowned sisters wait, 655.

No Berserk thirst of blood had they, 153.

No lifeless thing of iron and stone, 593.

No more for them shall evening's rose unclose, 673.

No more words, 410.

No! never such a draught was poured, 136.

No song of a soldier riding down, 571.

No stately column marks the hallowed place, 135.

Not as when some great Captain falls, 540.

Not in the dire, ensanguined front of war, 609.

Not midst the lightning of the stormy fight, 486.

Not where the battle red, 417.

Not with slow, funereal sound, 603.

"Not yet, not yet! steady, steady," 162.

"Now for a brisk and cheerful fight," 357.

Now from their slumber waking, 629.

Now you are one with us, you know our tears, 670.

O Boston wives and maids, draw near and see, 144.

O broad-breasted Queen among Nations, 570.

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, 537.

O God of Battles, who art still, 612.

O Land beloved, 660.

O Land, of every land the best, 548.

O little fleet! that on thy quest divine, 18.

O lonely bay of Trinity, 565.[709]

O people-chosen! are ye not, 559.

O say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, 317.

O stealthily-creeping Merrimac, 627.

O the pride of Portsmouth water, 311.

O Thou, that sendest out the man, 262.

O Thou, whose glorious orbs on high, 653.

O'er Cambridge set the yeoman's mark, 146.

O'er Huron's wave the sun was low, 308.

O'er the high and o'er the lowly, 578.

O'er the rough main, with flowing sheet, 225.

O'er the warrior gauntlet grim, 542.

O'er the waste of waters cruising, 227.

O'er town and cottage, vale and height, 207.

Of all the rides since the birth of time, 283.

Of heroes and statesmen I'll just mention four, 224.

Of the onset, fear-inspiring, and the firing and the pillage, 102.

Of worthy Captain Lovewell I purpose now to sing, 106.

Oft shall the soldier think of thee, 355.

Oh, is not this a holy spot, 348.

Oh! lonely is our old green fort, 300.

Oh mother of a mighty race, 268.

Oh, Northern men—true hearts and bold, 427.

Oh, rouse you, rouse you, men at arms, 83.

Oh, slow to smite and swift to spare, 540.

Oh, the sun sets red, the moon shines white, 321.

Oh, who has not heard of the Northmen of yore, 2.

Oh, who will follow old Ben Milam into San Antonio, 354.

Old cradle of an infant world, 46.

Old Flood Ireson! all too long, 284.

Old Ross, Cockburn, and Cochrane too, 315.

On Calvert's plains new faction reigns, 142.

On Christmas-day in seventy-six, 188.

On December, the sixth, 188.

On every schoolhouse, ship, and staff, 611.

On primal rocks she wrote her name, 71.

On the bluff of the Little Big-Horn, 584.

Once came an exile, longing to be free, 335.

Once in a lifetime, we may see the veil, 589.

Once more the Flower of Essex is marching to the wars, 628.

One summer morning a daring band, 487.

Oppressed and few, but freemen yet, 156.

Our band is few, but true and tried, 248.

Our camp-fires shone bright on the mountain, 512.

Our fathers' God! from out whose hand, 573.

Our keels are furred with tropic weed that clogs the crawling tides, 666.

Our mother, the pride of us all, 174.

Our sorrow sends its shadow round the earth, 589.

Our trust is now in thee, 457.

Out and fight! The clouds are breaking, 409.

Out from the harbor of Amsterdam, 50.

Out of a Northern city's bay, 467.

Out of the clover and blue-eyed grass, 550.

Out of the focal and foremost fire, 460.

Out of the North the wild news came, 154.

Over his millions Death has lawful power, 376.

Over the turret, shut in his ironclad tower, 527.

Pains the sharp sentence the heart in whose wrath it was uttered, 539.

Palely intent, he urged his keel, 537.

Parading near Saint Peter's flood, 312.

Parent of all, omnipotent, 180.

"Past two o'clock and Cornwallis is taken," 257.

Plattsburg Bay! Plattsburg Bay, 313.

Poets may sing of their Helicon streams, 272.

"Praise ye the Lord!" The psalm to-day, 67.

Prince William, of the Brunswick race, 241.

Quoth Satan to Arnold: "My worthy good fellow," 238.

Rapacious Spain, 24.

"Read out the names!" and Burke sat back, 611.

Rejoice, rejoice, brave patriots, rejoice, 28.

Rend America asunder, 374.

"Rifleman, shoot me a fancy shot," 432.

Ring round her! children of her glorious skies, 516.

Ring the bells, nor ring them slowly, 441.

Rio Bravo! Rio Bravo, 362.

Room for a Soldier! lay him in the clover, 419.

Round Quebec's embattled walls, 171.

Rouse, Britons! at length, 205.

Rouse every generous, thoughtful mind, 139.

Rudely forced to drink tea, Massachusetts, in anger, 144.

Ruin and death held sway, 597.

Saddle! saddle! saddle, 579.

Said Burgoyne to his men, as they passed in review, 200.

Said my landlord, white-headed Gil Gomez, 370.

Said the captain: "There was mire," 671.

Said the Sword to the Ax, 'twixt the whacks and the hacks, 114.

Saint Patrick, slave to Milcho of the herds, 480.

St. Stephen's cloistered hall was proud, 9.

Santa Ana came storming, as a storm might come, 357.

Santa Maria, well thou tremblest down the wave, 12.

Say, darkeys, hab you seen de massa, 522.

Seize, O seize the sounding lyre, 309.

Shall we send back the Johnnies their bunting, 654.

She has gone,—she has left us in passion and pride, 400.

She has gone to the bottom! the wrath of the tide, 527.

She is touching the cycle,—her tender tread, 603.

Shoe the steed with silver, 521.

Shoot down the rebels—men who dare, 643.

Sho-shó-ne Sa-cá-ga-we-a—captive and wife was she, 340.

"Silent upon a peak in Darien," 651.

Since you all will have singing, and won't be said nay, 150.

Sing, O goddess, the wrath, the ontamable dander of Keitt, 391.

Single-handed, and surrounded by Lecompton's black brigade, 398.

Sir George Prevost, with all his host, 314.

Slowly the mists o'er the meadow were creeping, 147.

Smile, Massachusetts, smile, 172.

So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn, 388.

So that soldierly legend is still on its journey, 437.

So, they will have it, 408.

Soe, Mistress Anne, faire neighboure myne, 89.

Some names there are of telling sound, 466.[710]

"Somewhere in France," upon a brown hillside, 669.

Sons of New England, in the fray, 480.

Sons of valor, taste the glories, 176.

Souls of the patriot dead, 388.

Southrons, hear your country call you, 411.

Southward with fleet of ice, 34.

Spain drew us proudly from the womb of night, 640.

Speak and tell us, our Ximena, looking northward far away, 366.

"Speak! speak! thou fearful guest," 6.

Spruce Macaronis, and pretty to see, 183.

Squeak the fife, and beat the drum, 179.

"Stack Arms!" I've gladly heard the cry, 545.

Stand! the ground's your own, my braves, 161.

"Stand to your guns, men!" Morris cried, 464.

Still and dark along the sea, 509.

Still shall the tyrant scourge of Gaul, 114.

Streets of the roaring town, 643.

Such darkness as when Jesus died, 657.

Sullen and dark, in the September day, 586.

Summer of 'sixty-three, sir, and Conrad was gone away, 494.

Sun of the stately Day, 575.

Sunday in Old England, 526.

Sure never was picture drawn more to the life, 129.

Sweet land of song, thy harp doth hang, 375.

"Talk of pluck!" pursued the Sailor, 516.

Talk of the Greeks at Thermopylæ, 672.

Tell the story to your sons, 319.

Thank God our liberating lance, 667.

That balmy eve, within a trellised bower, 43.

That seat of Science, Athens, 140.

That was a brave old epoch, 101.

The banner of Freedom high floated unfurled, 294.

The billowy headlands swiftly fly, 624.

The boarding nettings are triced for flight, 295.

The breaking waves dashed high, 57.

The breeze has swelled the whitening sail, 57.

The breezes went steadily thro' the tall pines, 185.

The captain of the Shannon came sailing up the bay, 300.

The "Catamount Tavern" is lively to-night, 194.

The Chesapeake so bold, 301.

The chill New England sunshine, 90.

The combat raged not long, but ours the day, 437.

The despot treads thy sacred sands, 515.

The despot's heel is on thy shore, 415.

The dog that is beat has a right to complain, 259.

The flags of war like storm-birds fly, 460.

The footsteps of a hundred years, 335.

The four-way winds of the world have blown, 625.

The great unequal conflict past, 263.

The guns are hushed. On every field once flowing, 562.

The heart leaps with the pride of their story, 634.

The home-bound ship stood out to sea, 36.

The increasing moonlight drifts across my bed, 449.

The Indian war was over, 123.

The knightliest of the knightly race, 417.

The land, that, from the rule of kings, 595.

The lioness whelped, and the sturdy cub, 558.

The Lord above, in tender love, 264.

The loud drums are rolling, the mad trumpets blow, 614.

The morn was cloudy and dark and gray, 404.

The Mothers of our Forest-Land, 330.

The muffled drum's sad roll has beat, 368.

The Pilgrim Fathers,—where are they, 66.

The roadside forests here and there were touched with tawny gold, 97.

The soft new grass is creeping o'er the graves, 449.

The stars of Night contain the glittering Day, 486.

The sun had set, 484.

The sun had sunk beneath the west, 310.

The sun strikes gold the dirty street, 674.

The sword was sheathed: in April's sun, 274.

The tent-lights glimmer on the land, 461.

The twenty-second of August, 219.

The 'Vention did in Boston meet, 271.

The Volunteers! the Volunteers, 374.

The war-drum is beating, prepare for the fight, 412.

The war-path is true and straight, 614.

The wind blows east,—the wind blows west, 91.

The winding way the serpent takes, 32.

The windows of Heaven were open wide, 600.

The winter night is cold and drear, 188.

The word of God to Leyden came, 56.

The word of the Lord by night, 478.

The years are but half a score, 585.

Then will a quiet gather round the door, 678.

There are twenty dead who're sleeping near the slopes of Bud Dajo, 645.

There is blood on thy desolate shore, 606.

"There on the left!" said the colonel; the battle had shuddered and faded away, 445.

There was no union in the land, 492.

These words the poet heard in Paradise, 591.

They come!—they come!—the heroes come, 262.

They fling their flags upon the morn, 632.

They have met at last—as storm-clouds, 423.

They held her South to Magellan's mouth, 637.

They knew they were fighting our war. As the months grew to years, 667.

They say the Spanish ships are out, 621.

They slept on the field which their valor had won, 443.

They've turned at last! Good-by, King George, 183.

Think you the dead are lonely in that place, 674.

This is the place where André met his death, 239.

This was the man God gave us when the hour, 275.

This year, till late in April, the snow fell thick and light, 414.

Those were the conquered, still too proud to yield, 492.

Thou hast not drooped thy stately head, 514.

Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State, 660.

Thou wonder of the Atlantic shore, 338.

Though with the North we sympathize, 428.

Thrash away, you'll hev to rattle, 360.

Three days through sapphire seas we sailed, 530.

Three ships of war had Preble when he left the Naples shore, 282.

Through calm and storm the years have led, 574.

Through darkening pines the cavaliers marched on their sunset way, 19.

Through the clangor of the cannon, 302.

Through verdant banks where Thames's branches glide, 70.

Thunder our thanks to her—guns, hearts, and lips, 594.[711]

Thus, some tall tree that long hath stood, 275.

Thus spake the Lord, 610.

Thy blue waves, Patapsco, flow'd soft and serene, 316.

Thy error, Frémont, simply was to act, 477.

Thy merits, Wolfe, transcend all human praise, 123.

Time was he sang the British Brute, 642.

'Tis done—the wondrous thoroughfare, 579.

'Tis God that girds our armor on, 264.

'Tis like stirring living embers when, at eighty, one remembers, 163.

'Tis noonday by the buttonwood, with slender-shadowed bud, 152.

'Tis not the President alone, 649.

'Tis of a gallant Yankee ship that flew the stripes and stars, 223.

'Tis of a little drummer, 451.

To arms, to arms! my jolly grenadiers, 112.

To deities of gauds and gold, 660.

To drive the kine one summer's morn, 233.

To drum-beat and heart-beat, 186.

To eastward ringing, to westward winging, o'er mapless miles of sea, 640.

To Houston at Gonzales town, ride, Ranger, for your life, 355.

To the Cowpens riding proudly, boasting loudly, rebels scorning, 252.

To the God of all sure mercies let my blessing rise to-day, 77.

"To the winds give our banner," 99.

To western woods and lonely plains, 331.

Toll! Roland, toll, 408.

To-night we strive to read, as we may best, 71.

'Twas a grand display was the prince's ball, 382.

'Twas a wonderful brave fight, 407.

'Twas Captain Church, bescarred and brown, 88.

'Twas Friday morn: the train drew near, 414.

'Twas hurry and scurry at Monmouth town, 213.

'Twas in the reign of George the Third, 135.

'Twas Juet spoke—the Half Moon's mate, 50.

'Twas June on the face of the earth, June with the rose's breath, 161.

'Twas May upon the mountains, and on the airy wing, 157.

'Twas midsummer; cooling breezes all the languid forests fanned, 349.

'Twas night upon the Darro, 15.

'Twas November the fourth, in the year of ninety-one, 332.

'Twas on a pleasant mountain, 251.

'Twas on board the sloop of war, Wasp, boys, 293.

'Twas on the glorious day, 299.

'Twas on the twelfth of April, 405.

'Twas out upon mid-ocean that the San Jacinto hailed, 429.

'Twas the dead of the night. By the pine-knot's red light, 148.

'Twas the heart of the murky night, and the lowest ebb of the tide, 230.

'Twas the proud Sir Peter Parker came sailing in from the sea, 181.

'Twas the very verge of May, 615.

'Twas the year of the famine in Plymouth of old, 62.

'Twixt clouded heights Spain hurls to doom, 636.

Two fleets have sailed from Spain. The one would seek, 622.

Two hours, or more, beyond the prime of a blithe April day, 507.

Unconquer'd captive!—close thine eye, 523.

Under the great hill sloping bare, 80.

Under the walls of Monterey, 364.

Unhappy Boston! see thy sons deplore, 134.

Untrammelled Giant of the West, 609.

Up from the meadows rich with corn, 444.

Up from the South, at break of day, 521.

Up the hillside, down the glen, 358.

Up through a cloudy sky, the sun, 195.

Upon the barren sand, 39.

Vain Britons, boast no longer with proud indignity, 170.

Victorious knights without reproach or fear, 675.

Warden at ocean's gate, 595.

Was there ever message sweeter, 440.

Wave, wave your glorious battle-flags, brave soldiers of the North, 489.

We are coming, Cuba,—coming; our starry banner shines, 629.

We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more, 440.

We are the troop that ne'er will stoop, 142.

We could not pause, while yet the noontide air, 519.

We cross the prairie as of old, 389.

We do accept thee, heavenly Peace, 547.

We follow where the Swamp Fox guides, 247.

We have an old mother that peevish is grown, 142.

We have sent him seeds of the melon's core, 562.

We lay in the Trenches we'd dug in the Ground, 162.

We loved the wild clamor of battle, 655.

We mustered at midnight, in darkness we formed, 417.

We sailed to and fro in Erie's broad lake, 303.

We were not many, we who stood, 363.

We were ordered to Samoa from the coast of Panama, 598.

Weak-winged is song, 550.

Wearied arm and broken sword, 38.

"Well, General Grant, have you heard the news," 524.

Well worthy to be magnified are they, 66.

Well, yes, I've lived in Texas since the spring of '61, 402.

Were there no crowns on earth, 538.

What are the thoughts that are stirring his breast, 486.

What are you waiting for, George, I pray, 433.

What distant thunders rend the skies, 220.

What heavy-hoofed coursers the wilderness roam, 305.

What heroes from the woodland sprung, 191.

What is that a-billowing there, 291.

What is the voice I hear, 654.

What mean these peals from every tower, 523.

What! shall the sudden blade, 583.

What! soar'd the old eagle to die at the sun, 353.

What time the Lord drew back the sea, 652.

What time the noble Lovewell came, 108.

When a certain great King, whose initial is G., 258.

When arms and numbers both have failed, 645.

When brave Van Rensselaer cross'd the stream, 292.[712]

When Britain, with envy and malice inflamed, 298.

When British troops first landed here, 256.

When Carolina's hope grew pale, 250.

When Congress sent great Washington, 169.

When darkness prevail'd and aloud on the air, 339.

When fair Columbia was a child, 140.

When Faction, in league with the treacherous Gaul, 241.

When first I saw our banner wave, 478.

When Freedom, fair Freedom, her banner display'd, 279.

When Freedom from her mountain height, 192.

When George the King would punish folk, 138.

When Jack the King's commander, 202.

When Johnny comes marching home again, 549.

When life hath run its largest round, 377.

When North first began, 204.

When Pershing's men go marching into Picardy, marching, marching into Picardy, 671.

When ruthful time the South's memorial places, 564.

When shall the Island Queen of Ocean lay, 318.

When tempest winnowed grain from bran, 445.

When the British fleet lay, 215.

When the dying flame of day, 245.

When the Norn-Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour, 399.

When the vengeance wakes, when the battle breaks, 613.

When the war-cry of Liberty rang through the land, 166.

"When there is Peace, our land no more," 678.

When you speak of the dauntless deeds, 644.

Where may the wearied eye repose, 276.

Where murdered Mumford lies, 476.

Where nowadays the Battery lies, 54.

Where shall we seek for a hero, and where shall we find a story, 132.

Where the dews and the rains of heaven have their fountain, 506.

Where the remote Bermudas ride, 39.

Where the short-legged Esquimaux, 566.

Where the wild wave, from ocean proudly swelling, 323.

Whereas the rebels hereabout, 160.

While far along the eastern sky, 571.

While Sherman stood beneath the hottest fire, 499.

Whilst in peaceful quarters lying, 210.

Who are you, dusky woman, so ancient hardly human, 514.

Who cries that the days of daring are those that are faded far, 630.

Who has not heard of the dauntless Varuna, 474.

Who is this ye say is slain, 416.

Who now dare longer trust thy mother hand, 657.

Who with the soldiers was stanch danger-sharer, 462.

Whoop! the Doodles have broken loose, 412.

"Who've ye got there?"—"Only a dying brother," 485.

Why come ye hither, stranger, 193.

Why do I sleep amid the snows, 72.

Wide o'er the valley the pennons are fluttering, 371.

Wide open and unguarded stand our gates, 659.

Will you hear of a bloody battle, 48.

Winds that sweep the southern mountains, 512.

With drooping sail and pennant, 663.

With half the Western world at stake, 328.

With restless step of discontent, 23.

With sharpened pen and wit, one tunes his lays, 52.

With shot and shell, like a loosened hell, 630.

With that pathetic impudence of youth, 677.

Women are timid, cower and shrink, 216.

Yankee Doodle sent to Town, 376.

Yankee Doodle went to war, 425.

Ye brave Columbian bands! a long farewell, 262.

Ye brave sons of Freedom, come join in the chorus, 285.

Ye Columbians so bold, attend while I sing, 2.

Ye elms that wave on Malvern Hill, 439.

Ye gentlemen and ladies fair, 326.

Ye jolly Yankee gentlemen, who live at home in ease, 428.

Ye jovial throng, come join the song, 337.

Ye parliament of England, 318.

Ye say they all have passed away, 587.

Ye sons of Columbia, unite in the cause, 278.

Ye sons of Columbia, who bravely have fought, 276.

Ye sons of Massachusetts, all who love that honored name, 85.

Ye sons of Sedition, how comes it to pass, 140.

Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys, we'll rally once again, 500.

Yes, yes, my boy, there's no mistake, 639.

Yet had his sun not risen; from his lips, 11.

You are looking now on old Tom Moore, 345.

You brave heroic minds, 42.

You dare to say with perjured lips, 664.

You know that day at Peach Tree Creek, 510.

You know there goes a tale, 232.

You lay a wreath on murdered Lincoln's bier, 543.

You that crossed the ocean old, 22.

Your threats how vain, Corregidor, 618.

You're a traitor convicted, you know very well, 401.

Zounds! how the price went flashing through, 567.