Rapid and vast, of hissing spray wind-driven
  Far through the dizzy dark.  Aloud she shriek’d—­
  My heart was cloven with pain.  I wound my arms
  About her:  we whirl’d giddily:  the wind
  Sung:  but I clasp’d her without fear:  her weight
  Shrank in my grasp, and over my dim eyes
  And parted lips which drank her breath, down hung
  The jaws of Death:  I, screaming, from me flung
  The empty phantom:  all the sway and whirl
  Of the storm dropt to windless calm, and I
  Down welter’d thro’ the dark ever and ever.

Index to First Lines

A gate and a field half ploughed
All thoughts, all creeds, all dreams, are true
Angels have talked with him and showed him thrones
As when a man, that sails in a balloon
Blow ye the trumpets, gather from afar
But she tarries in her place
Check every outflash, every ruder sally
Could I outwear my present state of woe
Ere yet my heart was sweet Love’s tomb
Every day hath its night
First drink a health, this solemn night
God bless our Prince and Bride
Heaven weeps above the earth all night
Here far away, seen from the topmost cliff
His eyes in eclipse
Home they brought him slain with spears
How much I love this writer’s manly style
How often, when a child I lay reclined
I am any man’s suitor
I stood on a tower in the wet
I stood upon the Mountain which o’erlooks
I’ the glooming light
Me my own fate to lasting sorrow doometh
My Rosalind, my Rosalind
O darling room, my heart’s delight
Oh, Beauty, passing beauty! sweetest sweet! 
Oh, go not yet, my love
O maiden fresher than the first green leaf
O sad No more!  O sweet No more
O thou whose fringed lids I gaze upon
Rise, Britons, rise, if manhood be not dead
Sainted Juliet! dearest name
Shall the hag Evil die with the child of Good
Sure never yet was Antelope
The lintwhite and the throstlecock
The Northwind fall’n in the new starred night
The pallid thunderstricken sigh for gain
There are three things that fill my heart with sighs
Therefore your halls, your ancient colleges
There is no land like England
The varied earth, the moving heaven
Thou, from the first, unborn, undying love
Though Night hath climbed her peak
Two bees within a chrystal flowerbell rocked
Voice of the summerwind
We have had enough of motion
We know him, out of Shakespeare’s art
What time I wasted youthful hours
Where is the Giant of the Sun, which stood
Who can say
Who fears to die?  Who fears to die
With roses musky breathed
You cast to ground the hope which once was mine
You did late review my lays
Your ringlets, your ringlets