| | Poem Title | First Lines | Period | # Lines | # Reads |
| 1: | A Ballad Of Refreshment | The lady stood at the station bar, | | 29 | 789 |
| 2: | A Ballad Of The Town Water | It is the Police Commissioners, | | 32 | 800 |
| 3: | A Birthday Gift | No gift I bring but worship, and the love | | 14 | 386 |
| 4: | A Bunch Of Triolets | You like the trifling triolet: | | 32 | 328 |
| 5: | A Christmas Fancy | Early on Christmas Day, | | 30 | 478 |
| 6: | A Coincidence | Every critic in the town | | 4 | 545 |
| 7: | A College Career | When one is young and eager, | | 88 | 357 |
| 8: | A Criticism Of Critics | How often have the critics, trained | | 16 | 334 |
| 9: | A December Day | Blue, blue is the sea to-day, | | 32 | 357 |
| 10: | A December Day | Blue, blue is the sea to-day | | 32 | 335 |
| 11: | A Late Good Night | My lamp is out, my task is done, | | 16 | 418 |
| 12: | A Lost Opportunity | One dark, dark night--it was long ago, | | 48 | 381 |
| 13: | A Lover's Confession | When people tell me they have loved | | 68 | 388 |
| 14: | A May-Day Madrigal | The sun shines fair on Tweedside, the river flowing bright, | | 12 | 373 |
| 15: | A New Song To An Old Tune--From Victor Hugo | If a pleasant lawn there grow | | 24 | 355 |
| 16: | A Presentiment | It seems a little word to say | | 14 | 341 |
| 17: | A Song Of Greek Prose | Thrice happy are those | | 30 | 325 |
| 18: | A Song Of Truce | Till the tread of marching feet | | 16 | 439 |
| 19: | A Street Corner | Here, where the thoroughfares meet at an angle | | 32 | 378 |
| 20: | A Summer Morning | Never was sun so bright before, | | 14 | 373 |
| 21: | A Swinburnian Interlude | Short space shall be hereafter | | 40 | 340 |
| 22: | Adventure Of A Poet | As I was walking down the street | | 202 | 384 |
| 23: | After Many Days | The mist hangs round the College tower, | | 24 | 363 |
| 24: | After Waterloo | On the field of Waterloo we made Napoleon rue | | 40 | 365 |
| 25: | An Afterthought | You found my life, a poor lame bird | | 8 | 302 |
| 26: | An Exile's Song | My soul is like a prisoned lark, | | 28 | 352 |
| 27: | An Interview | I met him down upon the pier; | | 24 | 348 |
| 28: | An Invitation | Dear Ritchie, I am waiting for the signal word to fly, | | 11 | 357 |
| 29: | An Orator's Complaint | How many the troubles that wait | | 28 | 352 |
| 30: | Andrew M'Crie. From The Unpublished Remains Of Edgar Allan Poe | It was many and many a year ago, | | 41 | 306 |
| 31: | Art's Discipline | Long since I came into the school of Art, | | 4 | 404 |
| 32: | At A High Ceremony | Not the proudest damsel here | | 20 | 326 |
| 33: | Below Her Window | Where she sleeps, no moonlight shines | | 11 | 398 |
| 34: | Cairnsmill Den--Tune: 'A Roving' | As I, with hopeless love o'erthrown, | | 47 | 344 |
| 35: | Catullus At His Brother's Grave | Through many lands and over many seas | | 10 | 328 |
| 36: | Come Back To St. Andrews | Come back to St. Andrews! Before you went away | | 36 | 348 |
| 37: | Cyclamen | I had a plant which would not thrive, | | 14 | 358 |
| 38: | Dawn Song | I hear a twittering of birds, | | 12 | 366 |
| 39: | Death At The Window | This morning, while we sat in talk | | 20 | 314 |
| 40: | Farewell To A Singer. On Her Marriage | As those who hear a sweet bird sing, | | 12 | 344 |
| 41: | Fickle Summer | Fickle Summer's fled away, | | 14 | 348 |
| 42: | Footsteps In The Street | Oh, will the footsteps never be done? | | 24 | 319 |
| 43: | For A Present Of Roses | Crimson and cream and white | | 16 | 332 |
| 44: | For Scotland | Beyond the Cheviots and the Tweed, | | 36 | 335 |
| 45: | Golden Dream | Golden dream of summer morn, | | 11 | 377 |
| 46: | Greek Title | I love the inoffensive frog, | | 14 | 339 |
| 47: | Greek Title | Ever to be the best. To lead | | 24 | 317 |
| 48: | Hope Deferred | When the weary night is fled, | | 12 | 344 |
| 49: | Horace's Philosophy | What the end the gods have destined unto thee and unto me, | | 9 | 297 |
| 50: | Hymn Of Hippolytus To Artemis | Artemis! thou fairest | | 25 | 364 |
| 51: | Ichabod | Gone is the glory from the hills, | | 14 | 317 |
| 52: | Imitated From Wordsworth | He brought a team from Inversnaid | | 12 | 341 |
| 53: | In Time Of Doubt | In the shadow of Thy wings, O Lord of Hosts, whom I extol, | | 12 | 353 |
| 54: | In Time Of Sickness | Lost Youth, come back again! | | 12 | 331 |
| 55: | In Time Of Sorrow | Despair is in the suns that shine, | | 12 | 346 |
| 56: | Indolence | Fain would I shake thee off, but weak am I | | 14 | 340 |
| 57: | Lost At Sea | Lost at sea, with all on board! | | 10 | 351 |
| 58: | Lost Liberty | Of our own will we are not free, | | 14 | 337 |
| 59: | Love Recalled In Sleep | There was a time when in your face | | 24 | 336 |
| 60: | Love's Phantom | Whene'er I try to read a book, | | 36 | 350 |
| 61: | Love's Worship Restored | O Love, thine empire is not dead, | | 56 | 336 |
| 62: | Magni Nominis Umbra | St. Andrews! not for ever thine shall be | | 14 | 384 |
| 63: | Make-Believes | When I was young and well and glad, | | 4 | 387 |
| 64: | Midnight | The air is dark and fragrant | | 24 | 364 |
| 65: | Milton. With Apologies To Lord Tennyson | O swallow-tailed purveyor of college sprees, | | 18 | 287 |
| 66: | Moonlight North And South | Love, we have heard together | | 36 | 452 |
| 67: | Music For The Dying. From The French Of Sully Prudhomme | Ye who will help me in my dying pain, | | 16 | 374 |
| 68: | My Lady | My Lady of all ladies! Queen by right | | 14 | 352 |
| 69: | Nightfall | Let me sleep. The day is past, | | 11 | 348 |
| 70: | On A Crushed Hat | Brown was my friend, and faithful--but so fat! | | 14 | 333 |
| 71: | On An Edinburgh Advocate | In youth with diligence he toiled | | 4 | 380 |
| 72: | One Tear | Last night, when at parting | | 45 | 362 |
| 73: | Partnership In Fame | Love, when the present is become the past, | | 14 | 357 |
| 74: | Patriotism | There was a time when it was counted high | | 14 | 369 |
| 75: | Pleasant Prophecies | A day of gladness yet will dawn, | | 20 | 363 |
| 76: | Poets | Children of earth are we, | | 16 | 360 |
| 77: | Reflections Of A Magistrand. On Returning To St. Andrews | In the hard familiar horse-box I am sitting once again; | | 64 | 321 |
| 78: | Requiem | For thee the birds shall never sing again, | | 11 | 581 |
| 79: | Sleep Flies Me | Sleep flies me like a lover | | 36 | 326 |
| 80: | Song From 'The Princess' | As through the street at eve we went | | 14 | 325 |
| 81: | Song Is Not Dead | Song is not dead, although to-day | | 11 | 379 |
| 82: | Sorrow's Treachery | I made a truce last night with Sorrow, | | 8 | 381 |
| 83: | Stanzas For Music | I loved a little maiden | | 36 | 351 |
| 84: | Sweetheart | Sweetheart, that thou art fair I know, | | 20 | 345 |
| 85: | Tears | Mourn that which will not come again, | | 14 | 388 |
| 86: | The Banished Bejant. From The Unpublished Remains Of Edgar Allan Poe | In the oldest of our alleys, | | 48 | 399 |
| 87: | The Best Pipe | In vain you fervently extol, | | 28 | 379 |
| 88: | The Burial Of William The Conqueror | Oh, who may this dead warrior be | | 68 | 330 |
| 89: | The Caged Thrush | Alas for the bird who was born to sing! | | 10 | 372 |
| 90: | The City Of Golf | Would you like to see a city given over, | | 40 | 340 |
| 91: | The Close Of The Session | The Session's over. We must say farewell | | 14 | 346 |
| 92: | The Crown Of Years | Years grow and gather--each a gem | | 14 | 349 |
| 93: | The Death Of William Rufus | The Red King's gone a-hunting, in the woods his father made | | 52 | 385 |
| 94: | The Delights Of Mathematics | It seems a hundred years or more | | 28 | 363 |
| 95: | The End Of April | This is the time when larks are singing loud | | 28 | 386 |
| 96: | The Fiddler | There's a fiddler in the street, | | 12 | 374 |
| 97: | The First Meeting | Last night for the first time, O Heart's Delight, | | 14 | 350 |
| 98: | The Garden Of Sin | I know the garden-close of sin | | 14 | 376 |
| 99: | The Golf-Ball And The Loan. After Longfellow | I drove a golf-ball into the air, | | 12 | 342 |
| 100: | The Haunted Chamber | Life is a house where many chambers be, | | 14 | 349 |
| 101: | The House Of Sleep | When we have laid aside our last endeavour, | | 32 | 419 |
| 102: | The Life Of Earth | The life of earth, how full of pain, | | 11 | 399 |
| 103: | The M.A. Degree. After Wordsworth | It was a phantom of delight | | 30 | 377 |
| 104: | The Outcast's Farewell | The sun is banished, | | 72 | 358 |
| 105: | The Poet's Hat | The rain had fallen, the Poet arose, | | 16 | 337 |
| 106: | The Science Club | Hurrah for the Science Club! | | 60 | 342 |
| 107: | The Solitary | I have been lonely all my days on earth, | | 36 | 371 |
| 108: | The Swallows. From Jean Pierre Claris Florian | I love to see the swallows come | | 24 | 332 |
| 109: | The Tempted Soul | Weak soul, by sense still led astray, | | 14 | 330 |
| 110: | The True Liberal | The truest Liberal is he | | 6 | 352 |
| 111: | The Voice That Sings | The voice that sings across the night | | 11 | 398 |
| 112: | The Wasted Day | Another day let slip! Its hours have run, | | 14 | 360 |
| 113: | The Waster Singing At Midnight. After Longfellow | Loud he sang the song Ta Phershon | | 24 | 295 |
| 114: | The Waster Singing At Midnight. After Longfellow. | Loud he sang the song Ta Phershon | | 24 | 366 |
| 115: | The Waster's Presentiment | I shall be spun. There is a voice within | | 11 | 339 |
| 116: | The Waster's Presentiment | I shall be spun. There is a voice within | | 11 | 326 |
| 117: | Thirty Years After | If you were now a bejant, | | 57 | 322 |
| 118: | Thou Art Queen | Thou art queen to every eye, | | 11 | 335 |
| 119: | To Alfred Tennyson--1883 | Familiar with thy melody, | | 14 | 319 |
| 120: | To C. C. C. | Oh for the nights when we used to sit | | 32 | 344 |
| 121: | To J. R. | Last Sunday night I read the saddening story | | 16 | 362 |
| 122: | To Number 27X. | Beloved Peeler! friend and guide | | 11 | 350 |
| 123: | To The Reader Of 'University Notes' | Ah yes, we know what you're saying, | | 48 | 379 |
| 124: | Trafalgar Square | These verses have I pilfered like a bee | | 40 | 379 |
| 125: | Triolet | After the melting of the snow | | 8 | 383 |
| 126: | Undesired Revenge | Sorrow and sin have worked their will | | 21 | 369 |
| 127: | Ursula | There is a village in a southern land, | | 112 | 328 |
| 128: | Vanity Of Vanities | Be ye happy, if ye may, | | 40 | 352 |
| 129: | Vivien's Song. At The L.L.A. Examination | In Algebra, if Algebra be ours, | | 12 | 335 |
| 130: | Welcome Home | The fire burns bright | | 35 | 321 |
| 131: | Where's The Use | Oh, where's the use of having gifts that can't be turned to money? | | 4 | 372 |
| 132: | Winter At St. Andrews | The city once again doth wear | | 28 | 366 |
| 133: | Yet A Little Sleep | Beside the drowsy streams that creep | | 14 | 381 |
| 134: | Youth Renewed | When one who has wandered out of the way | | 24 | 351 |
