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The writings of James Russell Lowell

in ten volumes
Lowell, James Russell (1819-1891)

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POEMS I.
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EARLIER POEMS
  
THRENODIA
  
THE SIRENS
  
IRENÉ
  
SERENADE
  
WITH A PRESSED FLOWER
  
THE BEGGAR
  
MY LOVE
  
SUMMER STORM
  
LOVE
  
TO PERDITA, SINGING
  
THE MOON
  
REMEMBERED MUSIC
  
SONG
  
ALLEGRA
  
THE FOUNTAIN
  
ODE
  
THE FATHERLAND
  
THE FORLORN
  
MIDNIGHT
  
A PRAYER
  
THE HERITAGE
  
THE ROSE: A BALLAD
  
SONG
  
ROSALINE
  
A REQUIEM
  
A PARABLE
  
SONG
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SONNETS
 1. 
I. TO A. C. L.
 2. 
[II. What were I, Love, if I were stripped of thee]
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[III. I would not have this perfect love of ours]
 4. 
[IV. “For this true nobleness I seek in vain]
 5. 
V. TO THE SPIRIT OF KEATS.
 6. 
[VI. Great Truths are portions of the soul of man]
 7. 
[VII. I ask not for those thoughts, that sudden leap]
 8. 
VIII. TO M. W., ON HER BIRTHDAY.
 9. 
[IX. My Love, I have no fear that thou shouldst die]
 10. 
[X. I cannot think that thou shouldst pass away]
 11. 
[XI. There never yet was flower fair in vain]
 12. 
XII. SUB PONDERE CRESCIT.
 13. 
[XIII. Beloved, in the noisy city here]
 14. 
XIV. ON READING WORDSWORTH'S SONNETS IN DEFENCE OF CAPITAL PUNISHMENT.
 15. 
XV. THE SAME CONTINUED.
 16. 
XVI. THE SAME CONTINUED.
 17. 
XVII. THE SAME CONTINUED.
 18. 
XVIII. THE SAME CONTINUED.
 19. 
XIX. THE SAME CONCLUDED.
 20. 
XX. TO M. O. S.
 21. 
[XXI. Our love is not a fading, earthly flower]
 22. 
XXII. IN ABSENCE.
 23. 
XXIII. WENDELL PHILLIPS.
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XXIV. THE STREET.
 25. 
[XXV. I grieve not that ripe Knowledge takes away]
 26. 
XXVI. TO J. R. GIDDINGS.
 27. 
[XXVII. I thought our love at full, but I did err]
  
L'ENVOI
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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS
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MEMORIAL VERSES
  
THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL
  
LETTER FROM BOSTON
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POEMS II.
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POEMS III.
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POEMS IV.

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XXIV.
THE STREET.

They pass me by like shadows, crowds on crowds,
Dim ghosts of men, that hover to and fro,
Hugging their bodies round them like thin shrouds
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Wherein their souls were buried long ago:
They trampled on their youth, and faith, and love,
They cast their hope of human-kind away,
With Heaven's clear messages they madly strove,
And conquered,—and their spirits turned to clay:
Lo! how they wander round the world, their grave,
Whose ever-gaping maw by such is fed,
Gibbering at living men, and idly rave,
“We, only, truly live, but ye are dead.”
Alas! poor fools, the anointed eye may trace
A dead soul's epitaph in every face!
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