| Here sleeps beneath this bank, where daisies grow |
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| Methought my Love was dead. O, 'twas a night |
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| Why lookest thou, sweet moon; so wan and sad |
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| There is in Rydal's vale a river sweet |
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| Farewell, gay France! my pilgrimage hath end |
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| O Sleep, do thou perform a holy task |
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| Com'st thou from Tuscany, my minstrel boy? |
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| The Moon is sailing thro' the calm blue sky |
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| My Love I can compare with nought on earth |
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| Rouen! I walked among thy narrow streets |
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