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Had I the power
Had we but world enough, and time
Hail holy light, ofspring of Heav'n first-born
Hail, sister springs
Hail to thee, blithe spirit!
Half a league, half a league
Halted against the shade of a last hill
Hamelin town's in Brunswick
Happy are men who yet before they are killed
Happy those early days, when I
Hark! ah, the Nightingale!
Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings
Hark! Now everything is still
Hear the voice of the Bard
He clasps the crag with crooked hands
He did not wear his scarlet coat
He dropped, — more sullenly than wearily
He first deceased; she for a little tried
He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark
He that loves a rosy cheek
He who has once been happy is for aye
He wrought in poverty, the dull grey days
Head to limp head, the sunk-eyed wounded scanned
Heap cassia, sandal-buds and stripes
Hear, ye ladies that despise
Helen of Troy has sprung from Hell
Helen, thy beauty is to me
Hence, all you vain delights
Hence, heart, with her that must depart
Hence loathed Melancholy
Hence vain deluding joyes
Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee
Here a little child I stand
Here a pretty baby lies
Here all the day she swings from tide to tide
Here, ever since you went abroad
Here she lies, a pretty bud
Hey! now the day dawis
High and solemn mountains guard Riouperoux
High-spirited friend
Highway, since you my chief Parnassus be
His fingers wake, and flutter up the bed
His golden locks Time hath to silver turn'd
Honor be to Mudjekeewis!
How happy is he born and taught
How like a Winter hath my absence been
How near me came the hand of Death
How vainly men themselves amaze
Hyd, Absolon, thy gilte tresses clere
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