| No. | Page | |
| XLV. | If it chance your eye offend you | 69 |
| XLVI. | Bring, in this timeless grave to throw | 69 |
| XLVII. | Here the hangman stops his cart | 71 |
| XLVIII. | Be still, my soul, be still | 73 |
| XLIX. | Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly | 75 |
| L. | In valleys of springs of rivers | 76 |
| LI. | Loitering with a vacant eye | 78 |
| LII. | Far in a western brookland | 79 |
| LIII. | The lad came to the door at night | 80 |
| LIV. | With rue my heart is laden | 83 |
| LV. | Westward on the high-hilled plains | 83 |
| LVI. | Far I hear the bugle blow | 85 |
| LVII. | You smile upon your friend to-day | 86 |
| LVIII. | When I came last to Ludlow | 87 |
| LIX. | The star-filled seas are smooth to-night | 87 |
| LX. | Now hollow fires burn out to black | 88 |
| LXI. | The vane on Hughley steeple | 89 |
| LXII. | Terence, this is stupid stuff | 91 |
| LXIII. | I hoed and trenched and weeded | 95 |
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