Page:Poems, Volume 2, Coates, 1916.djvu/291

So you love me, have no care, II, 170.
Softly, with palpitating heart, I, 53.
"Some things I never would forgive," II, 143.
Something I may not win attracts me ever, I, 9.
Sorrow, quit me for a while! II, 220.
Sweet are the woodland notes, I, 235.
Sweet is the birth of love, and the awakening, II, 9.
Swelling bud and fond suggestion, II, 245.

'T is I have been waiting to know, dear, II, 117.
'T is the front toward life that matters most, I, 241.
'T were little to renounce what now I hold, I, 209.
Tell us of beauty! Touch thy silver lyre, I, 150.
Tender grass in April springing, I, 194.
Thank God, a man can grow! I, 192.
That Love has wings the poets say, II, 184.
The air is full of perfume and the promise of the spring, I, 160.
The Austrians at Arcola, I, 85.
The clouds give back to earth again, I, 175.
The day, from slumber waking, dawns most fair, I, 188.
The earth is mine and its myriad flowers, II, 113.
The end of life is living, II, 218.
The friend I loved betrayed my trust, II, 23.
The heart has room for gladness, II, 58.
The houseless wind has gone to rest, II, 91.
The knell that dooms the voiceless and obscure, II, 35.
The lilacs blossom at the door, II, 14.
The lordly pines like grasses wave, I, 225.
The might of music, and its mystic fire, I, 93.
The new-born leaves unfolding fast, II, 173.
The night-wind drives across the leaden skies, II, 59.
The oriole sang in the apple tree, I, 6.
The peace we longed to keep, I, 131.
The perfect eloquence of silence; then, II, 226.
The robin chants when the thrush is dumb, II, 240.
The seedling bidden in the sod, I, 154.
The serpent-horror writhing in her hair, II, 201.
The sights and sounds of the wretched street, II, 95.
The summer-time is in the rose, II, 197.
The tomb said to the rose, II, 88.
The vast cathedral-crown of the high hill, I, 100.