HARDLY..............8 And whistling, called the wind that hardly curled Female Vagrant Alas! 'twas hardly worth the telling, Goody Blake The doctor's self would hardly spare, Idiot Boy She hardly can sustain her fears; Idiot Boy You hardly can perceive his joy. Idiot Boy The owls have hardly sung their last, Idiot Boy With envy, what the old man hardly feels. Old Man Travelling These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines Tintern Abbey
HARK................5 Hark! hark! the thick black cloud is cleft, Ancyent Marinere V Hark! hark! the thick black cloud is cleft, Ancyent Marinere V And hark the little Vesper-bell Ancyent Marinere VII And hark! the Nightingale begins its song, Nightingale And hark! How blithe the throstle sings! Tables Turned
HARM................2 The high crag cannot work me harm, Mad Mother From him no harm my babe can take, Mad Mother
HARMLESS............1 "The harmless Albatross. Ancyent Marinere V
HARMONIES...........1 For all sweet sounds and harmonies; Oh! then, Tintern Abbey
HARMONIZED..........1 His angry spirit healed and harmonized Dungeon
HARMONY.............2 Stirring the air with such an harmony, Nightingale Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, Tintern Abbey
HARPS...............1 An hundred airy harps! And she hath watch'd Nightingale
HARRY..............14 What is't that ails young Harry Gill? Goody Blake Of waistcoats Harry has no lack, Goody Blake 'Tis all the same with Harry Gill; Goody Blake 'Tis all the same with Harry Gill; Goody Blake Young Harry was a lusty drover, Goody Blake To seek the hedge of Harry Gill. Goody Blake Now Harry he had long suspected Goody Blake Thus looking out did Harry stand; Goody Blake She's at the hedge of Harry Gill. Goody Blake While Harry held her by the arm -- Goody Blake Young Harry heard what she had said, Goody Blake Alas! that day for Harry Gill! Goody Blake "Poor Harry Gill is very cold." Goody Blake Of Goody Blake and Harry Gill. Goody Blake
HARRY'S.............1 And Harry's flesh it fell away; Goody Blake
HARSH...............1 Not harsh or grating, though of ample power Tintern Abbey
HARVEST.............1 Our hopes such harvest of affliction reap, Female Vagrant
HAS................43 "Dear Lord! it has a fiendish look -- Ancyent Marinere VII 'Tis more like heaven to come than what has been. Foster-Mother O my dear Mother! this strange man has left me Foster-Mother Which he has never used; that thought with him Yew-Tree near Esthwaite Alas! it has no pow'r to stay: Lewti When silent night has clos'd her eyes -- Lewti The very ocean has its hour of rest, Female Vagrant Of waistcoats Harry has no lack, Goody Blake He has a blanket on his back, Goody Blake Of years he has upon his back, Simon Lee A long blue livery-coat has he, Simon Lee And, though he has but one eye left, Simon Lee He has no son, he has no child, Simon Lee He has no son, he has no child, Simon Lee Few months of life he has in store, Simon Lee Has oftner left me mourning. Simon Lee What man has made of man. Lines in Early Spring What man has made of man? Lines in Early Spring No leaves it has, no thorny points; The Thorn The sun has burnt her coal-black hair, Mad Mother She has a baby on her arm, Mad Mother My love for thee has well been tried: Mad Mother But, Betty! what has he to do Idiot Boy And Betty from the lane has fetched Idiot Boy Has up upon the saddle set, Idiot Boy For Johnny has his holly-bough, Idiot Boy And Betty o'er and o'er has told Idiot Boy What he has got upon his back. Idiot Boy And Susan has a dreadful night. Idiot Boy "The doctor he has made him wait, Idiot Boy "Or sadly he has been misled, Idiot Boy Poor Betty now has lost all hope, Idiot Boy A green-grown pond she just has pass'd, Idiot Boy She has almost o'erturned the horse, Idiot Boy Through all the long green fields has spread, Tables Turned She has a world of ready wealth, Tables Turned Long patience has such mild composure given, Old Man Travelling "Who, from a sea-fight has been brought to Falmouth, Old Man Travelling The wolf has come to me tonight, Forsaken Indian And he has stolen away my food. Forsaken Indian Yet my fancy has pierced to his heart, and pourtrays Convict "Poor victim! no idle intruder has stood Convict How often has my spirit turned to thee! Tintern Abbey
