Scots wha hae wi’ Wallace bled, 142

 See thou character.  Give thy thoughts no tongue, 301

 Serene I fold my hands and wait, 267

 Shed no tear!  O shed no tear, 50

 She dwelt among the untrodden ways, 272

 She was a phantom of delight, 305

 Speak! speak! thou fearful guest, 240

 Stand! the ground’s your own, my braves!, 63

 Sunset and evening star, 124

 Sweet and low, sweet and low, 27

 Tell me not in mournful numbers, 218

 The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold, 158

 The boy stood on the burning deck, 22

 The breaking waves dashed high, 229

 The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, 306

 The Frost looked forth, one still, clear night, 39

 The gingham dog and the calico cat, 18

 The God of Music dwelleth out of doors, 275

 The harp that once through Tara’s halls, 287

 The nautilus and the ammonite, 188

 The old mayor climb’d the belfry tower, 277

 The Owl and the Pussy Cat went to sea, 15

 The quality of mercy is not strained, 300

 There came a youth upon the earth, 171

 There came to port last Sunday night, 152

 There lay upon the ocean’s shore, 148

 There was a sound of revelry by night, 177

 There was never a Queen like Balkis, 7

 There were three kings into the East, 83

 There were three sailors of Bristol City, 41

 The splendour falls on castle walls, 66

 The stately homes of England, 192

 The summer and autumn had been so wet, 166

 The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home, 136

 The world is too much with us; late and soon, 304

 The year’s at the spring, 6

 Thirty days hath September, 7

 This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, 122

 This was the noblest Roman of them all, 301

 ’Tis the last rose of summer, 225

 T’other day as I was twining, 234

 Traveller, pluck a stem of moly, 233

 Triumphal arch that fills the sky, 53

 ’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, 29

 Twinkle, twinkle little star, 6

 Under a spreading chestnut tree, 25

 Up from the meadows rich with corn, 96

 Up from the South at break of day, 68

 Way down upon de Swanee ribber, 137

 Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower, 94

 Wee, sleekit, cow’rin, tim’rous beastie, 92

 Wee Willie Winkie rins through the town, 13

 We were crowded in the cabin, 23

 Whatever brawls disturb the street, 20

 What is so rare as a day in June, 217

 What is the voice I hear, 335

 What was he doing, the great god Pan, 275