The dove did lend me wings. I fled away (_W. Blunt_) . . . . 79
The fountain murmuring of sleep (_A. Symons_) . . . . . . . . 154
The hill pines were sighing (_R. Bridges_) . . . . . . . . . . 68

{174}

The Lady Poverty was fair (_A. Meynell_) . . . . . . . . . . . 131
The moon is up: the stars are bright (_A. Noyes_) . . . . . . 14
There is a hill beside the silver Thames (_R. Bridges_) . . . 70
There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night (_H. Newbolt_) 115
These hearts were woven of human joys and cares (_R. Brooke_) 24
This is a sacred city built of marvellous earth
(_J. Masefield_) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123
This labouring, vast, Tellurian galleon (_F. Thompson_) . . . 149
This was her table, these her trim outspread
(_J. B. B. Nichols_) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9
Through the sunny garden (_M. E. Coleridge_) . . . . . . . . . 37
Time, you old gipsy man (_R. Hodgson_) . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
'Tis but a week since down the glen (_G. Gould_) . . . . . . . 124
To-day, all day, I rode upon the down (_W. Blunt_) . . . . . . 79
To the forgotten dead (_M. L. Woods_) . . . . . . . . . . . . 12
To the heart of youth the world is a highwayside
(_R. L. Stevenson_) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113
Too soothe and mild your lowland airs (_L. Abercrombie_) . . . 36
Troy Town is covered up with weeds (_J. Masefield_) . . . . . 3
Trusty, dusky, vivid, true (_R. L. Stevenson_) . . . . . . . . 157
Twilight it is, and the far woods are dim, and the rooks
cry and call (_J. Masefield_) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138

Under the wide and starry sky (_R. L. Stevenson_) . . . . . . 90

Very old are the woods (_W. de la Mare_) . . . . . . . . . . . 1

What gods have met in battle to arouse (_A. E._) . . . . . . . 27
What heart could have thought you? (_F. Thompson_) . . . . . . 127
What is this life, if, full of care (_W. B. Davies_) . . . . . 101
What of vile dust? the preacher said (_G. K. Chesterton_) . . 154
What shall I your true-love tell (_F. Thompson_) . . . . . . . 168
When I am living in the Midlands (_H. Belloc_) . . . . . . . . 43
When I did wake this morn from sleep (_W. H. Davies_) . . . . 67
When June is come, then all the day (_R. Bridges_) . . . . . . 152
When men were all asleep the snow came flying (_R. Bridges_) 91