| | Poem Title | First Lines | Period | # Lines | # Reads |
| 1: | A Ballad, Shewing How An Old Woman Rode Double, And Who Rode Before Her. | The Raven croak'd as she sate at her meal, | | 184 | 299 |
| 2: | Birth-Day Ode, 1793. | Small is the new-born plant scarce seen | | 69 | 322 |
| 3: | Birth-Day Ode, 1796. | And wouldst thou seek the low abode | | 50 | 290 |
| 4: | Donica. | High on a rock, whose castled shade | | 115 | 292 |
| 5: | Eclogue I. The Old Mansion-House. | Old friend! why you seem bent on parish duty, | | 164 | 263 |
| 6: | Eclogue II. The Grandmothers Tale. | Harry! I'm tired of playing. We'll draw round | | 132 | 277 |
| 7: | Eclogue III. The Funeral. | The coffin as I past across the lane | | 156 | 267 |
| 8: | Eclogue IV. The Sailor's Mother. | Sir for the love of God some small relief | | 167 | 292 |
| 9: | Eclogue V. The Witch. | Father! here father! I have found a horse-shoe! | | 180 | 254 |
| 10: | Eclogue VI. The Ruined Cottage. | Aye Charles! I knew that this would fix thine eye, | | 113 | 321 |
| 11: | Elinor. | Once more to daily toil--once more to wear | | 90 | 260 |
| 12: | Frederic. | Where shall I turn me? whither shall I bend | | 89 | 272 |
| 13: | Henry The Hermit. | It was a little island where he dwelt, | | 58 | 290 |
| 14: | Humphrey And William. | See'st thou not William that the scorching Sun | | 154 | 256 |
| 15: | Hymn To The Penates. | Yet one Song more! one high and solemn strain | | 299 | 264 |
| 16: | Inscription I. For A Tablet At Godstow Nunnery. | Here Stranger rest thee! from the neighbouring towers | | 14 | 276 |
| 17: | Inscription II. For A Column At Newbury. | Art thou a Patriot Traveller? on this field | | 12 | 326 |
| 18: | Inscription III. For A Cavern That Overlooks The River Avon. | Enter this cavern Stranger! the ascent | | 20 | 241 |
| 19: | Inscription IV. For the Apartment in CHEPSTOW-CASTLE where HENRY MARTEN the Regicide was imprisoned Thirty Years. | For thirty years secluded from mankind, | | 16 | 281 |
| 20: | Inscription V. For A Monument At Silbury-Hill. | This mound in some remote and dateless day | | 12 | 312 |
| 21: | Inscription VI. For A Monument In The New Forest. | This is the place where William's kingly power | | 17 | 337 |
| 22: | Inscription VII. For A Tablet On The Banks Of A Stream. | Stranger! awhile upon this mossy bank | | 16 | 283 |
| 23: | Inscription VIII. For The Cenotaph At Ermenonville. | STRANGER! the MAN OF NATURE lies not here: | | 14 | 267 |
| 24: | Jaspar | Jaspar was poor, and want and vice | | 180 | 303 |
| 25: | John, Samuel, & Richard. | Tis a calm pleasant evening, the light fades away, | | 128 | 275 |
| 26: | Lord William. | No eye beheld when William plunged | | 140 | 293 |
| 27: | Mary. | Who is she, the poor Maniac, whose wildly-fix'd eyes | | 105 | 290 |
| 28: | Metrical Letter, Written from London. | Margaret! my Cousin!--nay, you must not smile; | | 68 | 287 |
| 29: | Musings On A Landscape Of Gaspar Poussin. | Poussin! most pleasantly thy pictur'd scenes | | 73 | 395 |
| 30: | Ode | Come melancholy Moralizer--come! | 1794 | 56 | 293 |
| 31: | Ode | Tho' now no more the musing ear | | 43 | 289 |
| 32: | Ode | Go thou and seek the House of Prayer! | | 37 | 304 |
| 33: | On The Death Of A Favourite Old Spaniel. | And they have drown'd thee then at last! poor Phillis! | | 37 | 296 |
| 34: | Rudiger. | Bright on the mountain's heathy slope | | 176 | 277 |
| 35: | Sappho. A Monodrama. | This is the spot:--'tis here Tradition says | | 72 | 253 |
| 36: | Sonnet I | Hold your mad hands! for ever on your plain | | 14 | 259 |
| 37: | Sonnet I. | Go Valentine and tell that lovely maid | | 14 | 290 |
| 38: | Sonnet II | Why dost thou beat thy breast and rend thine hair, | | 14 | 262 |
| 39: | Sonnet II. | Think Valentine, as speeding on thy way | | 14 | 282 |
| 40: | Sonnet III | Oh he is worn with toil! the big drops run | | 14 | 275 |
| 41: | Sonnet III. | Not to thee Bedford mournful is the tale | | 14 | 291 |
| 42: | Sonnet IV | Tis night; the mercenary tyrants sleep | | 14 | 247 |
| 43: | Sonnet IV. | What tho' no sculptur'd monument proclaim | | 14 | 306 |
| 44: | Sonnet IX. | Fair is the rising morn when o'er the sky | | 14 | 276 |
| 45: | Sonnet V | Did then the bold Slave rear at last the Sword | | 14 | 263 |
| 46: | Sonnet V. | Hard by the road, where on that little mound | | 14 | 306 |
| 47: | Sonnet VI | High in the air expos'd the Slave is hung | | 14 | 249 |
| 48: | Sonnet VI | As thus I bend me o'er thy babbling stream | | 14 | 273 |
| 49: | Sonnet VII. To The Evening Rainbow. | Mild arch of promise! on the evening sky | | 14 | 256 |
| 50: | Sonnet VIII. | With many a weary step, at length I gain | | 14 | 251 |
| 51: | Sonnet X. | How darkly o'er yon far-off mountain frowns | | 14 | 352 |
| 52: | Sonnet. | With wayworn feet a Pilgrim woe-begone | | 14 | 250 |
| 53: | The Complaints Of The Poor. | And wherefore do the Poor complain? | | 48 | 315 |
| 54: | The Cross Roads. | There was an old man breaking stones | | 135 | 293 |
| 55: | The Pauper's Funeral | What! and not one to heave the pious sigh! | | 26 | 292 |
| 56: | The Race Of Banquo. | Fly, son of Banquo! Fleance, fly! | | 26 | 320 |
| 57: | The Rose. | Nay EDITH! spare the rose!--it lives--it lives, | | 97 | 312 |
| 58: | The Sailor, who had served in the Slave Trade. | He stopt,--it surely was a groan | | 124 | 268 |
| 59: | The Soldier's Wife. | Weary way-wanderer languid and sick at heart | | 12 | 279 |
| 60: | The Surgeon's Warning. | The Doctor whispered to the Nurse | | 168 | 258 |
| 61: | The Triumph Of Woman. | Glad as the weary traveller tempest-tost | | 412 | 257 |
| 62: | The Victory. | Hark--how the church-bells thundering harmony | | 47 | 307 |
| 63: | The Vision of The Maid of Orleans. The First Book. | Orleans was hush'd in sleep. Stretch'd on her couch | | 373 | 286 |
| 64: | The Vision Of The Maid Of Orleans. The Second Book. | She spake, and lo! celestial radiance beam'd | | 388 | 270 |
| 65: | The Vision Of The Maid Of Orleans. The Third Book. | The Maiden, musing on the Warrior's words, | | 315 | 255 |
| 66: | The Widow. | Cold was the night wind, drifting fast the snows fell, | | 28 | 297 |
| 67: | To Contemplation. | Faint gleams the evening radiance thro' the sky, | | 72 | 260 |
| 68: | To Horror. | Dark HORROR, hear my call! | | 68 | 314 |
| 69: | To Mary Wollstonecraft. | The lilly cheek, the "purple light of love," | | 13 | 283 |
| 70: | To My Own Miniature Picture Taken At Two Years Of Age. | And I was once like this! that glowing cheek | | 38 | 284 |
| 71: | To The Chapel Bell. | Lo I, the man who erst the Muse did ask | | 42 | 282 |
| 72: | To The Genius Of Africa | O thou who from the mountain's height | | 66 | 243 |
