| Poem Title | First Lines | Period | # Lines | # Reads |
| 1: 1492. | Thou two-faced year, Mother of Change and Fate, | | 14 | 222 |
| 2: A Degenerate Age. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | Where is the man who has been tried and found strong and sound? | | 13 | 181 |
| 3: A June Night. | Ten o'clock: the broken moon | | 36 | 223 |
| 4: A Letter To His Friend Isaac. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | But yesterday the earth drank like a child | | 48 | 175 |
| 5: A Masque Of Venice. | Not a stain, | | 70 | 178 |
| 6: About Emma Lazarus. (Written For "The Century Magazine") | One hesitates to lift the veil and throw the light upon a life | | 875 | 191 |
| 7: Acceptance. | Yea, she hath looked Truth grimly face to face, | | 18 | 192 |
| 8: Admetus. | He who could beard the lion in his lair, | | 570 | 173 |
| 9: Admonition. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | Long in the lap of childhood didst thou sleep, | | 10 | 183 |
| 10: Afternoon. | Small, shapeless drifts of cloud | | 36 | 217 |
| 11: Agamemnon's Tomb. | Uplift the ponderous, golden mask of death, | | 50 | 201 |
| 12: Age And Death. | Come closer, kind, white, long-familiar friend, | | 10 | 216 |
| 13: An Epistle. | Master and Sage, greetings and health to thee, | | 271 | 164 |
| 14: Arabesque. | On a background of pale gold | | 71 | 174 |
| 15: Aspiration. | Dark lies the earth, and bright with worlds the sky: | | 30 | 194 |
| 16: August Moon. | Look! the round-cheeked moon floats high, | | 142 | 213 |
| 17: Autumn Sadness. | Air and sky are swathed in gold | | 36 | 190 |
| 18: Bar Kochba. | Weep, Israel! your tardy meed outpour | | 15 | 217 |
| 19: Chopin. | A dream of interlinking hands, of feet | | 56 | 200 |
| 20: Chrysalis. (Little Poems In Prose.) | Long, long has the Orient-Jew spun around his helplessness the cunningly enmeshed web of Talmud and Kabbala. | | 4 | 183 |
| 21: City Visions. | As the blind Milton's memory of light, | | 28 | 206 |
| 22: Compensation. | T is not alone that black and yawning void | | 18 | 181 |
| 23: Confused Dreams. | O strange, dim other-world revealed to us, | | 24 | 190 |
| 24: Critic And Poet. | No man had ever heard a nightingale, | | 14 | 195 |
| 25: Currents. (Little Poems In Prose.) | Vast oceanic movements, the flux and reflux of immeasurable tides, | | 7 | 161 |
| 26: Defiance. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | Conquer the gloomy night of thy sorrow, for the morning greets | | 18 | 164 |
| 27: Destiny. | Paris, from throats of iron, silver, brass, | | 14 | 175 |
| 28: Destiny. | Born to the purple, lying stark and dead, | | 14 | 168 |
| 29: Don Pedrillo. | Not a lad in Saragossa | | 112 | 156 |
| 30: Don Rafael. | I would not have," he said, | | 80 | 151 |
| 31: Donna Clara. | In the evening through her garden | | 88 | 153 |
| 32: Echoes. | Late-born and woman-souled I dare not hope, | | 14 | 169 |
| 33: Evening. | Rest, beauty, stillness: not a waif of a cloud | | 30 | 180 |
| 34: Extracts From The Book Of Tarshish, Or "Necklace Of Pearls." (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | The shadow of the houses leave behind, | | 74 | 152 |
| 35: Faerie. | From the oped lattice glance once more abroad | | 21 | 169 |
| 36: Faith. | She feels outwearied, as though o'er her head | | 18 | 155 |
| 37: Fancies. | The ceaseless whirr of crickets fills the ear | | 27 | 162 |
| 38: Fog. | Light silken curtain, colorless and soft, | | 96 | 164 |
| 39: Fra Pedro. | Golden lights and lengthening shadows, | | 104 | 150 |
| 40: Fragment. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | My friend spoke with insinuating tongue: | | 7 | 164 |
| 41: Fragment. Canzone XII. 5. | I never see, after nocturnal rain, | | 14 | 148 |
| 42: Fragment. Trionfo D' Amore. | I know how well Love shoots, how swift his flight, | | 16 | 169 |
| 43: Fragment. Trionfo Della Morte. | Now since nor grief nor fear was longer there, | | 16 | 150 |
| 44: From One Augur To Another. | So, Calchas, on the sacred Palatine, | | 14 | 174 |
| 45: From The "Divan." (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | My thoughts impelled me to the resting-place | | 6 | 161 |
| 46: Gifts. | O World-God, give me Wealth!" the Egyptian cried. | | 40 | 164 |
| 47: Grief. | There is a hungry longing in the soul, | | 18 | 174 |
| 48: Heroes. | In rich Virginian woods, | | 78 | 161 |
| 49: Hope. | Her languid pulses thrill with sudden hope, | | 18 | 160 |
| 50: How Long? | How long, and yet how long, | | 40 | 195 |
| 51: Hymn. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | Almighty! what is man? | | 76 | 169 |
| 52: In Exile. | Twilight is here, soft breezes bow the grass, | | 48 | 181 |
| 53: In Memoriam - Rev. J. J. Lyons. | The golden harvest-tide is here, the corn | | 40 | 170 |
| 54: In Morte. II. On The Death Of Cardinal Colonna And Laura. | The noble Column, the green Laurel-tree | | 14 | 179 |
| 55: In Morte. XLIII. | Yon nightingale who mourns so plaintively | | 14 | 162 |
| 56: In the Night. | Let us go in: the air is dank and chill | | 15 | 166 |
| 57: In The Night. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | Unto the house of prayer my spirit yearns, | | 72 | 161 |
| 58: In Vita. Canzone XI. | O waters fresh and sweet and clear, | | 68 | 170 |
| 59: In Vita. CIX. | The God of Love and I in wonder stared, | | 14 | 165 |
| 60: In Vita. CV. | I saw on earth angelic graces beam, | | 14 | 161 |
| 61: In Vita. LXVII. | Since thou and I have proven many a time | | 14 | 156 |
| 62: In Vita. LXXVI. | Sennuccio, I would have thee know the shame | | 14 | 169 |
| 63: Influence. | The fervent, pale-faced Mother ere she sleep, | | 14 | 188 |
| 64: Life And Art. | Not while the fever of the blood is strong, | | 14 | 198 |
| 65: Links. | The little and the great are joined in one | | 6 | 173 |
| 66: Loneliness. | All stupor of surprise hath passed away; | | 18 | 192 |
| 67: Long Island Sound. | I see it as it looked one afternoon | | 14 | 198 |
| 68: Longing For Jerusalem. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | O city of the world, with sacred splendor blest, | | 10 | 178 |
| 69: Longing. | Look westward o'er the steaming rain-washed slopes, | | 14 | 162 |
| 70: Love Song Of Alcharisi. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | The long-closed door, oh open it again, | | 8 | 186 |
| 71: Love-Song. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | See'st thou o'er my shoulders falling, | | 10 | 153 |
| 72: Magnetism. | By the impulse of my will, | | 44 | 197 |
| 73: Mater Amabilis. | Down the goldenest of streams, | | 54 | 171 |
| 74: Matins. | Gray earth, gray mist, gray sky: | | 72 | 161 |
| 75: Meditations. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | Forget thine anguish, | | 63 | 184 |
| 76: Night-Piece. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | Night, and the heavens beam serene with peace, | | 20 | 171 |
| 77: Night-Thoughts. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | Will night already spread her wings and weave | | 33 | 180 |
| 78: Off Rough Point. | We sat at twilight nigh the sea, | | 20 | 170 |
| 79: On The Proposal To Erect A Monument In England To Lord Byron. | The grass of fifty Aprils hath waved green | | 70 | 155 |
| 80: On The Voyage To Jerusalem. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | My two-score years and ten are over, | | 96 | 156 |
| 81: Patience. | The passion of despair is quelled at last; | | 18 | 170 |
| 82: Peace. | The calm outgoing of a long, rich day, | | 20 | 169 |
| 83: Raschi In Prague. | Raschi of Troyes, the Moon of Israel, | | 373 | 173 |
| 84: Regret. | Thin summer rain on grass and bush and hedge, | | 24 | 172 |
| 85: Restlessness.* | Would I had waked this morn where Florence smiles, | | 16 | 190 |
| 86: Saint Romualdo. | I give God thanks that I, a lean old man, | | 289 | 172 |
| 87: Separation. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | And so we twain must part! Oh linger yet, | | 18 | 165 |
| 88: Sic Semper Liberatoribus! | As one who feels the breathless nightmare grip | | 42 | 165 |
| 89: Solomon Ben Judah Gabirol (Died Between 1070-80.) (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | Am I sipping the honey of the lips? | | 10 | 150 |
| 90: Song. - Venus. | Frosty lies the winter-landscape, | | 16 | 174 |
| 91: Spring Longing. | Lilac hazes veil the skies. | | 78 | 183 |
| 92: Spring Songs. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | Now the dreary winter's over, | | 81 | 157 |
| 93: Spring Star. | Over the lamp-lit street, | | 61 | 177 |
| 94: St. Michael's Chapel. | When the vexed hubbub of our world of gain | | 14 | 182 |
| 95: Stanzas. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | With tears thy grief thou dost bemoan, | | 24 | 162 |
| 96: Storm. | Serene was morning with clear, winnowed air, | | 21 | 167 |
| 97: Success. | Oft have I brooded on defeat and pain, | | 14 | 175 |
| 98: Sunrise. | Weep for the martyr! Strew his bier | | 117 | 173 |
| 99: Surprise. | When the stunned soul can first lift tired eyes | | 18 | 170 |
| 100: Sympathy. | It comes not in such wise as she had deemed, | | 21 | 168 |
| 101: Sympathy. | Therefore I dare reveal my private woe, | | 14 | 204 |
| 102: Symphonic Studies. | Blue storm-clouds in hot heavens of mid-July | | 96 | 166 |
| 103: Tannhauser. | The Landgrave Hermann held a gathering | | 1226 | 169 |
| 104: The Banner Of The Jew. | Wake, Israel, wake! Recall to-day | | 36 | 174 |
| 105: The Birth Of Man. | When angels visit earth, the messengers | | 60 | 145 |
| 106: The Choice. | I saw in dream the spirits unbegot, | | 22 | 163 |
| 107: The Cranes Of Ibycus. | There was a man who watched the river flow | | 14 | 173 |
| 108: The Crowing Of The Red Cock. | Across the Eastern sky has glowed | | 36 | 165 |
| 109: The Dance To Death; | Hast seen him yet? | | 2367 | 147 |
| 110: The Death Of Raschi. | If I remember Raschi? An I live, | | 115 | 137 |
| 111: The Elixir. | Oh brew me a potion strong and good! | | 8 | 158 |
| 112: The End of the Song. | What dainty note of long-drawn melody | | 15 | 143 |
| 113: The Exodus. (August 3, 1492.) (Little Poems In Prose.) | The Spanish noon is a blaze of azure fire, | | 15 | 144 |
| 114: The Feast Of Lights. | Kindle the taper like the steadfast star | | 48 | 151 |
| 115: The Guardian Of The Red Disk. | A curious title held in high repute, | | 51 | 150 |
| 116: The May Night. | Give me a kiss, my poet, take thy lyre; | | 212 | 138 |
| 117: The New Colossus.* | Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame | | 14 | 194 |
| 118: The New Ezekiel. | What, can these dead bones live, whose sap is dried | | 16 | 142 |
| 119: The New Year. | Not while the snow-shroud round dead earth is rolled, | | 48 | 152 |
| 120: The October Night. | My haunting grief has vanished like a dream, | | 328 | 144 |
| 121: The Prophet. (Little Poems In Prose.) | Moses Ben Maimon lifting his perpetual lamp over the path of the perplexed; | | 15 | 132 |
| 122: The South. | Night, and beneath star-blazoned summer skies | | 60 | 143 |
| 123: The Sower. (Little Poems In Prose.) | Over a boundless plain went a man, carrying seed. | | 13 | 145 |
| 124: The Spagnoletto. | During the first four acts, in Naples; latter part of the fifth act, | | 2750 | 175 |
| 125: The Supreme Sacrifice. | Well-nigh two thousand years hath Israel | | 14 | 158 |
| 126: The Test. (Little Poems In Prose.) | Daylong I brooded upon the Passion of Israel. | | 8 | 178 |
| 127: The Valley Of Baca. | A brackish lake is there with bitter pools | | 36 | 189 |
| 128: The World's Justice. | If the sudden tidings came | | 40 | 158 |
| 129: To A Detractor. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | The Autumn promised, and he keeps | | 35 | 165 |
| 130: To Carmen Sylva. | Oh, that the golden lyre divine | | 64 | 136 |
| 131: Treasures. (Little Poems In Prose.) | Through cycles of darkness the diamond sleeps in its coal-black prison. | | 5 | 139 |
| 132: Venus Of The Louvre. | Down the long hall she glistens like a star, | | 14 | 159 |
| 133: Victory. | How strange, in some brief interval of rest, | | 18 | 149 |
| 134: Wherefore? | Deep languor overcometh mind and frame: | | 27 | 160 |
| 135: Wine And Grief. (Translations From The Hebrew Poets Of Medaeval Spain.) | With heavy groans did I approach my friends, | | 14 | 142 |
| 136: Work. | Yet life is not a vision nor a prayer, | | 18 | 165 |
| 137: Youth And Death. | What hast thou done to this dear friend of mine, | | 10 | 157 |
| 138: Youth. | Sweet empty sky of June without a stain, | | 21 | 181 |
