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- ’Twas on an iron, icy day by Robert Service
- ’Twas on that sad and mournful night, by James D. Gay
- ’Twas silence in Thy temple, Lord, by John Keble
- ’Twas such a little—little boat by Emily Dickinson
- ’Twas sunrise; the spirits of mist by Hanford Lennox Gordon
- ’Twas sunset in Jerusalem; the light by John L. Stoddard
- ’Twas the apple that in Eden by Paul Laurence Dunbar
- ’Twas the dream of a God, by Dora Sigerson
- ’Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro’ the house, by Major Henry Livingston, Jr.
- ’Twas the old—road—through pain— by Emily Dickinson
- ’Twas the turn o’ the nicht when a’ was quate by David Rorie
- ’Twas up at the tree near the heid o’ the glen by David Rorie
- ’Twas up in a land long famed for gold, where women were far and rare, by Robert Service
- ’Twas warm—at first—like Us— by Emily Dickinson
- ’Twould ease—a Butterfly— by Emily Dickinson
- “—Kiss me there where pride is glittering by Delmore Schwartz
- “‘Betimes my heritage was sold by Matilda Betham
- “’Tis now the dead of night,” and I will go by Henry Kirk White
- “. . . a dripping shower of notes from the softening blue. It is by E. (Edith) Nesbit
- “A barbered woman’s man,”—yes, so by Bliss Carman and Richard Hovey
- “A cup for hope!” she said, by Christina Rossetti
- “A little, passionately, not at all?“ by Ernest Dowson
- “A year to live,” the Doctor said; by Robert Service
- “Abide with us!” Where could we go? by Nannie R. Glass
- “After we were clear of the river Oceanus, and had got out into by Homer
- “Ah, are you digging on my grave, by Thomas Hardy
- “And if he’s gone away,” said she, by Dorothy Parker
- “And is Sir Everard still unscathed? I fain by Amy Lowell
- “And is there in God’s world so drear a place by John Keble
- “And now,” said the Governor, by Margaret Junkin Preston
- “And when I come to die,” he said, by Robert Service
- “And where have you been, my Mary, by Mary Howitt
- “And with what body do they come?”— by Emily Dickinson
- “And yet it moves!” Ah, Truth, where wert thou then by George MacDonald
- “Angel of wrath! why linger in mid-air, by John Keble
- “Angel, or jewel, or princess, or queen, by Alice Duer Miller
- “Annan water’s wading deep, by Andrew Lang
- “Arcturus” is his other name— by Emily Dickinson
- “Arise, depart, for this is not your rest.” by Christina Rossetti
- “Aye, squire,” said Stevens, “they back him at evens; by Adam Lindsay Gordon
- “Be brave?” why, yes, I will; I’ll never more despair; by Madge Morris Wagner
- “Be calm? And was I frantic? by Edwin Arlington Robinson
- “Black is the sky, but the land is white— by Robert Service
- “Bonny lassie, rosy lassie, by George MacDonald
- “Born again?” by Edgar Allan Poe
- “Break me my bounds, and let me fly by Paul Laurence Dunbar
- “Bring me soft song,” said Aladdin. by Vachel Lindsay
- “Build me a house,” said the Master, by Frances E. W. Harper
- “Build me a nation,” said the Lord. by Frances E. W. Harper
- “Build me straight, O worthy Master! by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
- “But it isn’t playing the game,” he said, by Robert Service
- “But who art thou, with curious beauty graced, by James Elroy Flecker
- “By-and-bye,” the maiden sighed—”by-and-bye by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
- “Captain, I hear the cheers. My soul is glad. by Hanford Lennox Gordon
- “Careless alike who went or came, by Matilda Betham
- “Carry your suitcase, Sir?” he said. by Robert Service
- “Come here to-morrow as the bells ring noon, by Amy Lowell
- “Come unto me!” Ah, gentlest word by Nannie R. Glass
- “Come with me,” said the Wind by Isabella Valancy Crawford
- “Come, children, put away your toys; by George MacDonald
- “Come, Edmund, now the sun goes down, by Matilda Betham
- “Come, Peggy, put your toys away; you needn’t shake your head, by R. C. Lehmann
- “Come, pretty birds, present your lays, by Richard Lovelace
- “Come, surly fellow, come! A song!” by Robert Graves
- “Conquer the gloomy night of thy sorrow, for the morning greets by Emma Lazarus
- “Cornel, cornel, green and white, by Bliss Carman
- “Courage!” he said, and pointed toward the land, by Alfred Lord Tennyson
- “Croak, croak, croak,” by Christina Rossetti
- “Crying!” Of course I am crying, and I guess you would be crying, by Bret Harte
- “Curse thee, Life, I will live with thee no more! by Edna St. Vincent Millay
- “D’atre nubi e il sol ravvolto, by Matilda Betham
- “Daughter, daughter, marry no man, by Bliss Carman and Richard Hovey
- “Dear brother, dearest friend, when I am dead, by Edwin Arlington Robinson
- “Death, whaur do ye bide, auld Death?” by George MacDonald
- “Deny your God!” they ringed me with their spears; by Robert Service
- “Despairless? Hopeless? Join the cheerful hunt by Thomas Runciman
- “Did they dare, did they dare, to slay Eoghan Ruadh O’Neill?” by Thomas Davis
- “Do I hear them? Yes, I hear the children singing—and what of it? by Edwin Arlington Robinson
- “Do I not feel?” The doubt is keen as steel. by Henry Kirk White
- “Do thou, dear Mother, contrive amain by George Borrow
- “Down cellar,” said the cricket, by Vachel Lindsay
- “Down cellar,” said the cricket, by Vachel Lindsay
- “Dustman, dustman!” by Bliss Carman
- “Dying of hunger and sorrow: by George Parsons Lathrop
- “Earth, if aught should check thy race, by George MacDonald
- “Edward back from the Indian Sea, by Robert Graves
- “Eighteen hundred and twelve,” in largest print; by Amy Lowell
- “Faith” is a fine invention by Emily Dickinson
- “Faithful to the end” Amended by Emily Dickinson
- “False diamond set in flint! the caverns of the mine by William Cullen Bryant
- “Far I hear the bugle blow by A. E. Housman
- “Farewell to barn and stack and tree, by A. E. Housman
- “Farewell?” No, not farewell, I’ll worship ever by Madge Morris Wagner
- “Father to me thou art and mother dear, by John Keble
- “Fill high the bowl, and spice it well, and pour by John Keble
- “Flowers, only flowers—bring me dainty posies, by Robert Service
- “For good old Master Hilverdink, a toast!” by Amy Lowell
- “Forward, comrades, ever forward”! by John L. Stoddard
- “Four winds blowing thro’ the sky, by Sara Teasdale
- “Gabble-gabble,… brethren,… gabble-gabble!” by Robert Graves
