| PAGE | ||
| The trees bend down along the stream | 249 | |
| The wind is out in its rage to-night | 244 | |
| The wind told the little leaves to hurry | 258 | |
| The word is writ that he who runs may read | 209 | |
| The world is a snob, and the man who wins | 118 | |
| The young queen Nature, ever sweet and fair | 52 | |
| Ther' ain't no use in all this strife | 49 | |
| There are no beaten paths to Glory's height | 21 | |
| There is a heaven, for ever, day by day | 106 | |
| There's a fabulous story | 246 | |
| There's a memory keeps a-runnin' | 10 | |
| These are the days of elfs and fays | 251 | |
| They please me not—these solemn songs | 125 | |
| This is the debt I pay | 213 | |
| This is to-day, a golden summer's day | 223 | |
| This poem must be done to-day | 122 | |
| Thou arrant robber, Death! | 284 | |
| "Thou art a fool," said my head to my heart | 5 | |
| Thou art my lute, by thee I sing | 109 | |
| Thou art the soul of a summer's day | 271 | |
| Though the winds be dank | 71 | |
| Thy tones are silver melted into sound | 116 | |
| Tim Murphy's gon' walkin' wid Maggie O'Neill | 261 | |
| 'Tis an old deserted homestead | 283 | |
| 'Tis better to set here beside the sea | 186 | |
| 'Tis fine to play | 235 | |
| To me, like hauntings of a vagrant breath | 97 | |
| Treat me nice, Miss Mandy Jane | 167 | |
| 'Twas the apple that in Eden | 251 | |
| 'Twas three an' thirty year ago | 27 | |
| 'Twixt a smile and a tear | 241 | |
| Two little boots all rough an' wo' | 163 | |
[ xxx ]
