449,
When I the memory repeat, 479. 
When the arts in their infancy were, 445. 
Whene’er I fragrant coffee drink, 472. 
Whether beneath sweet beds of roses, 412. 
Why is your mind thus all day long, 474. 
Why on your sister do you look, 427. 
Why so I will, you noisy bird, 471. 
With the apples and the plums, 473. 
Within the precincts of this yard, 464. 
Young William held the Butterfly in chase, 489. 
Your prayers you have said, and you’ve wished Good night, 459.