He ate and drank the precious Words

He Bids His Beloved Be At Peace

He Earned His Way

He Forgot—and I—remembered

He Fought Like Those Who’Ve Nought To Lose

He Found My Being—set It Up

He Fumbles At Your Soul

He Fumbles At Your Spirit

He Gave Away His Life

He Gives His Beloved Certain Rhymes

He Giveth His Beloved Sleep

He Had His Dream

He Had So Much Work To Do

He Has Not Lived In Vain

He Hears The Cry Of The Sedge

He Mourned His Master

He Mourns For The Change That Has Come Upon Him And His Beloved, And Longs For The End Of The World

He Never Expected Much

He Outstripped Time With But A Bout

He Parts Himself—like Leaves

He Preached Upon ‘Breadth’ Till It Argued Him Narrow —

He Put The Belt Around My Life

He Remembers Forgotten Beauty

He Reproves The Curlew

He Says Democracy

He Should Meet A Mother There

He Strained My Faith

He Struck Me!

He Tells Of A Valley Full Of Lovers

He Tells Of The Perfect Beauty

He That Hath Ears

He Thinks Of His Past Greatness When A Part Of The Constellations Of Heaven

He Thinks Of Those Who Have Spoken Evil Of His Beloved

He Told A Homely Tale

He Touched Me, So I Live To Know

He Was Weak, And I Was Strong—then

He Was, When It Was Aught

He Who Has Seen My Mother

He Who In Himself Believes

He Who Serves

He Who Serves

He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven

He Wishes His Beloved Were Dead

He Wonders Whether To Praise Or To Blame Her

He’s Taken Out His Papers

He’s That Rascally Kind Of Yogi

He’s Gone To England For A Wife

Heap Cassia, Sandal-Buds And Stripes

Hear The Voice

Hear The Voice Of The Bard

Hear What The Mournful Linnets Say

Heart

Heart It Is, Not A Brick Or Stone

Heart O’ The North

Heart, Not So Heavy As Mine