| Poem Title | First Lines | Period | # Lines | # Reads |
| 1: A Geological Madrigal | I have found out a gift for my fair; | | 32 | 672 |
| 2: A Greyport Legend | They ran through the streets of the seaport town, | | 42 | 452 |
| 3: A Legend of Cologne | Above the bones St. Ursula owns, | | 276 | 626 |
| 4: A Moral Vindicator | If Mr. Jones, Lycurgus B., Had one peculiar quality, | | 36 | 625 |
| 5: A Newport Romance | They say that she died of a broken heart | | 76 | 461 |
| 6: A Question of Privilege | It was Andrew Jackson Sutter who, despising Mr. Cutter for remarks he heard him utter in debate upon the floor, | | 18 | 611 |
| 7: A Sanitary Message | Last night, above the whistling wind, | | 40 | 772 |
| 8: A Second Review of the Grand Army | I read last night of the grand review | | 73 | 460 |
| 9: Address - The Opening of the California Theatre, San Francisco, January 19, 1870 | Brief words, when actions wait, are well: | | 53 | 742 |
| 10: After the Accident | What I want is my husband, sir, | | 44 | 646 |
| 11: Alnaschar | Here’s yer toy balloons! All sizes! | | 47 | 734 |
| 12: An Arctic Vision | Where the short-legged Esquimaux | | 81 | 752 |
| 13: An Idyl of the Road | Look how the upland plunges into cover, | | 60 | 710 |
| 14: Artemis in Sierra | Halt! Here we are. Now wheel your mare a trifle | | 81 | 489 |
| 15: Aspiring Miss De Laine | Certain facts which serve to explain | | 182 | 451 |
| 16: At the Hacienda | Know I not whom thou mayst be | | 17 | 700 |
| 17: Avitor | What was it filled my youthful dreams, | | 40 | 650 |
| 18: Battle Bunny | Bunny, lying in the grass, Saw the shining column pass; | | 59 | 443 |
| 19: Before the Curtain | Behind the footlights hangs the rusty baize, | | 15 | 621 |
| 20: Cadet Grey | Act first, scene first. A study. Of a kind | | 490 | 694 |
| 21: Caldwell of Springfield | Here’s the spot. Look around you. Above on the height | | 35 | 680 |
| 22: California Madrigal | Oh, come, my beloved, from thy winter abode, | | 24 | 448 |
| 23: California’s Greeting to Seward | We know him well: no need of praise | 1869 | 32 | 678 |
| 24: Chiquita | Beautiful! Sir, you may say so. Thar isn’t her match in the county; | | 32 | 617 |
| 25: Cicely | Cicely says you’re a poet; maybe, I ain’t much on rhyme: | | 56 | 614 |
| 26: Concepcion de Arguello | Looking seaward, o’er the sand-hills stands the fortress, old and quaint, | | 94 | 616 |
| 27: Coyote | Blown out of the prairie in twilight and dew, | | 16 | 475 |
| 28: Crotalus | No life in earth, or air, or sky; | | 48 | 633 |
| 29: Dickens in Camp | Above the pines the moon was slowly drifting, | | 40 | 451 |
| 30: Dolly Varden | Dear Dolly! who does not recall | | 56 | 617 |
| 31: Don Diego of the South | Good! said the Padre, believe me still, | | 98 | 616 |
| 32: Dow’s Flat | Dow’s flat. That’s its name; And I reckon that you | 1856 | 75 | 620 |
| 33: Fate | The sky is clouded, the rocks are bare, | | 12 | 501 |
| 34: For the King | As you look from the plaza at Leon west | | 174 | 714 |
| 35: Friar Pedro’s Ride | It was the morning season of the year; | | 160 | 709 |
| 36: Further Language from Truthful James | Do I sleep? do I dream? Do I wonder and doubt? | | 66 | 621 |
| 37: Grandmother Tenterden | I mind it was but yesterday: | | 75 | 427 |
| 38: Grizzly | Coward, of heroic size, | | 30 | 444 |
| 39: Guild’s Signal | Two low whistles, quaint and clear: | | 40 | 450 |
| 40: Half an Hour Before Supper | So she’s here, your unknown Dulcinea, the lady you met on the train, | | 28 | 714 |
| 41: Her Last Letter | June 4th! Do you know what that date means? | | 121 | 680 |
| 42: Her Letter | I’m sitting alone by the fire, | | 80 | 631 |
| 43: His Answer to “Her Letter” | Being asked by an intimate party, | | 72 | 638 |
| 44: How are You, Sanitary? | Down the picket-guarded lane | | 32 | 407 |
| 45: In the Mission Garden | I speak not the English well, but Pachita, | 1865 | 50 | 687 |
| 46: In the Tunnel | Didn’t know Flynn, Flynn of Virginia, | | 46 | 680 |
| 47: Jack of the Tules | Shrewdly you question, Senor, and I fancy | | 64 | 485 |
| 48: Jim | Say there! P’r’aps Some on you chaps | | 58 | 706 |
| 49: John Burns of Gettysburg | Have you heard the story that gossips tell | | 111 | 423 |
| 50: Lines to a Portrait, by a Superior Person | When I bought you for a song, | | 56 | 694 |
| 51: Lone Mountain | This is that hill of awe That Persian Sindbad saw, | | 24 | 710 |
| 52: Luke | Wot’s that you’re readin’? a novel? A novel! well, darn my skin! | | 68 | 701 |
| 53: Madrono | Captain of the Western wood, | | 28 | 452 |
| 54: Master Johnny’s Next-Door Neighbor | It was spring the first time that I saw her, for her papa and mamma moved in | | 32 | 440 |
| 55: Miss Blanche Says | And you are the poet, and so you want | | 100 | 717 |
| 56: Miss Edith Makes Another Friend | Oh, you’re the girl lives on the corner? Come in if you want to come quick! | | 24 | 501 |
| 57: Miss Edith Makes It Pleasant for Brother Jack | Crying!” Of course I am crying, and I guess you would be crying, too, | | 24 | 506 |
| 58: Miss Edith’s Modest Request | My papa knows you, and he says you’re a man who makes reading for books; | | 44 | 480 |
| 59: Mrs. Judge Jenkins | Maud Muller all that summer day | | 48 | 622 |
| 60: North Beach | Lo! where the castle of bold Pfeiffer throws | | 26 | 600 |
| 61: Off Scarborough | Have a care!” the bailiffs cried | | 100 | 623 |
| 62: On a Cone of the Big Trees | Brown foundling of the Western wood, | | 56 | 614 |
| 63: On a Pen of Thomas Starr King | This is the reed the dead musician dropped, | | 20 | 450 |
| 64: On the Landing | DO you know why they’ve put us in that back room, | | 42 | 509 |
| 65: On William Francis Bartlett | O poor Romancer thou whose printed page, | | 40 | 647 |
| 66: Our Privilege | Not ours, where battle smoke upcurls, | | 24 | 407 |
| 67: Penelope | So you’ve kem ’yer agen, And one answer won’t do? | | 25 | 622 |
| 68: Plain Language from Truthful James | Which I wish to remark, And my language is plain, | | 60 | 642 |
| 69: Poem | We meet in peace, though from our native East | | 82 | 636 |
| 70: Ramon | Drunk and senseless in his place, | | 67 | 634 |
| 71: Relieving Guard | Came the relief. “What, sentry, ho! | | 12 | 425 |
| 72: San Francisco | Serene, indifferent of Fate, | | 40 | 443 |
| 73: Sarah Walker | It was very hot. Not a breath of air was stirring throughout the western wing | | 84 | 512 |
| 74: Seventy-Nine | Know me next time when you see me, won’t you, old smarty? | | 44 | 607 |
| 75: Songs Without Sense | Affection’s charm no longer gilds | | 49 | 447 |
| 76: St. Thomas | Very fair and full of promise | | 58 | 621 |
| 77: Telemachus versus Mentor | Don’t mind me, I beg you, old fellow, I’ll do very well here alone; | | 48 | 594 |
| 78: The Aged Stranger | I was with Grant” the stranger said; | | 32 | 607 |
| 79: The Angelus | Bells of the Past, whose long-forgotten music | | 32 | 609 |
| 80: The Babes in the Woods | Something characteristic,” eh? | | 72 | 583 |
| 81: The Ballad of Mr. Cooke | Where the sturdy ocean breeze | | 120 | 590 |
| 82: The Ballad of the Emeu | Oh, say, have you seen at the Willows so green | | 48 | 663 |
| 83: The Birds of Cirencester | Did I ever tell you, my dears, the way | | 91 | 677 |
| 84: The Copperhead | There is peace in the swamp where the Copperhead sleeps, | 1864 | 24 | 616 |
| 85: The Ghost that Jim Saw | Why, as to that, said the engineer, | | 56 | 610 |
| 86: The Goddess | Who comes?” The sentry’s warning cry | | 44 | 402 |
| 87: The Hawk’s Nest | We checked our pace, the red road sharply rounding; | | 48 | 628 |
| 88: The Heathen Chinee | Which I wish to remark, And my language is plain, | 1870 | 60 | 596 |
| 89: The Idyl of Battle Hollow | No, I won’t, thar, now, so! And it ain’t nothin’, no! | | 48 | 614 |
| 90: The Latest Chinese Outrage | It was noon by the sun; we had finished our game, | | 112 | 638 |
| 91: The Legends of the Rhine | Beetling walls with ivy grown, | | 52 | 436 |
| 92: The Lost Galleon | In sixteen hundred and forty-one, | | 178 | 609 |
| 93: The Lost Tails of Miletus | High on the Thracian hills, half hid in the billows of clover, | | 16 | 595 |
| 94: The Miracle of Padre Junipero | This is the tale that the Chronicle | | 84 | 694 |
| 95: The Mission Bells of Monterey | O bells that rang, O bells that sang | | 21 | 690 |
| 96: The Mountain Heart’s-Ease | By scattered rocks and turbid waters shifting, | | 28 | 443 |
| 97: The Old Camp-Fire | Now shift the blanket pad before your saddle back you fling, | | 60 | 722 |
| 98: The Old Major Explains | Well, you see, the fact is, Colonel, I don’t know as I can come: | | 28 | 715 |
| 99: The Return of Belisarius | So you’re back from your travels, old fellow, | | 40 | 620 |
| 100: The Reveille | Hark! I hear the tramp of thousands, | | 35 | 431 |
| 101: The Ritualist | He wore, I think, a chasuble, the day when first we met; | | 16 | 598 |
| 102: The Society Upon the Stanislaus | I reside at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James; | | 36 | 708 |
| 103: The Spelling Bee at Angels | Waltz in, waltz in, ye little kids, and gather round my knee, | | 84 | 441 |
| 104: The Stage-Driver’s Story | It was the stage-driver’s story, as he stood with his back to the wheelers, | | 40 | 637 |
| 105: The Station-Master of Lone Prairie | An empty bench, a sky of grayest etching, | | 60 | 697 |
| 106: The Tale of a Pony | Name of my heroine, simply “Rose;” | | 105 | 581 |
| 107: The Thought-Reader of Angels | We hev tumbled ez dust Or ez worms of the yearth; | | 65 | 600 |
| 108: The Two Ships | As I stand by the cross on the lone mountain’s crest, | | 16 | 732 |
| 109: The Willows | The skies they were ashen and sober, | | 81 | 615 |
| 110: The Wonderful Spring of San Joaquin | Of all the fountains that poets sing, | | 103 | 690 |
| 111: Thompson of Angels | It is the story of Thompson of Thompson, the hero of Angels. | | 44 | 686 |
| 112: To a Sea-Bird | Sauntering hither on listless wings, | | 20 | 425 |
| 113: To the Pliocene Skull | Speak, O man, less recent! Fragmentary fossil! | | 48 | 661 |
| 114: Truthful James to the Editor | Which it is not my style | | 50 | 643 |
| 115: Twenty Years | Beg your pardon, old fellow! I think | | 30 | 433 |
| 116: What Miss Edith Saw from Her Window | Our window’s not much, though it fronts on the street; | | 56 | 520 |
| 117: What the Bullet Sang | O Joy of creation To be! O rapture to fly | | 24 | 592 |
| 118: What the Chimney Sang | Over the chimney the night-wind sang | | 24 | 456 |
| 119: What the Engines Said | What was it the Engines said, | | 57 | 449 |
| 120: What the Wolf Really Said to Little Red Riding-Hood | Wondering maiden, so puzzled and fair, | | 18 | 623 |
