Poems begining by T
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To-day
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
I rake no coffined clay, nor publish wide
The resurrection of departed pride.
The Faithless Boy.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
As though his bride were she,
A poor young maiden had caress'd,
And fondly kiss'd, and fondly press'd,
Trilogy of Passion: II. ELEGY.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
WHAT hope of once more meeting is there now
In the still-closed blossoms of this day?
Both heaven and hell thrown open seest thou;
What wav'ring thoughts within the bosom play
No longer doubt! Descending from the sky,
She lifts thee in her arms to realms on high.
The Shepherd's Lament.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
ON yonder lofty mountainA thousand times I stand,
And on my staff reclining,Look down on the smiling land.My grazing flocks then I follow,My dog protecting them well;
I find myself in the valley,But how, I scarcely can tell.The whole of the meadow is cover'dWith flowers of beauty rare;
I pluck them, but pluck them unknowingTo whom the offering to bear.In rain and storm and tempest,I tarry beneath the tree,
The Rule Of Life.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
IF thou wouldst live unruffled by care,
Let not the past torment thee e'er;
As little as possible be thou annoy'd,
And let the present be ever enjoy'd;
Ne'er let thy breast with hate be supplied,
And to God the future confide.
Tame Xenia.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
THE Epigrams bearing the title of XENIA were written
by Goethe and Schiller together, having been first occasioned by
some violent attacks made on them by some insignificant writers.
They are extremely numerous, but scarcely any of them could be translated
into English. Those here given are merely presented as a specimen.
To The Countess Granville.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Believe me, with great truth,
Very faithfully yours,
EDGAR A. BOWRING.
London, April, 1853.
Thou hast flashed on my sight,
© Alaric Alexander Watts
Thou hast flashed on my sight,
Like a spirit of love,
The New Amadis.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
IN my boyhood's days so drearI was kept confined;
There I sat for many a year,All alone I pined,
As within the womb.Yet thou drov'st away my gloom,Golden phantasy!
I became a hero true,Like the Prince Pipi,
The Muse's Mirror.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
EARLY one day, the Muse, when eagerly bent on adornment,
Follow'd a swift-running streamlet, the quietest nook by it seeking.
Quickly and noisily flowing, the changeful surface distorted
Ever her moving form; the goddess departed in anger.
Two Sisters Of Persephone
© Sylvia Plath
Two girls there are : within the house
One sits; the other, without.
Daylong a duet of shade and light
Plays between these.
To Originals.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
In these numbers be express'd
Meaning deep, 'neath merry jest.
-----
The Beauteous Flower.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Were I not prison'd here.
My sorrow sore oppresses me,
For when I was at liberty,
Threatening Signs.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
IF Venus in the evening sky
Is seen in radiant majesty,
If rod-like comets, red as blood,
Are 'mongst the constellations view'd,
To A Golden Heart That He Wore Round His Neck.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
[Addressed, during the Swiss tour already mentioned,
to a present Lily had given him, during the time of their happy
connection, which was then about to be terminated for ever.]
The Orphan Boy's Tale
© Amelia Opie
Stay, lady, stay, for mercy's sake,
And hear a helpless orphan's tale,
Ah! sure my looks must pity wake,
'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale.
The Critic.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
I HAD a fellow as my guest,
Not knowing he was such a pest,
And gave him just my usual fare;
He ate his fill of what was there,
The Spinner.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
As I calmly sat and span,Toiling with all zeal,
Lo! a young and handsome manPass'd my spinning-wheel.And he praised,--what harm was there?--Sweet the things he said--
Praised my flax-resembling hair,And the even thread.He with this was not content,But must needs do more;
And in twain the thread was rent,Though 'twas safe before.And the flax's stonelike weightNeeded to be told;
The Spagnoletto. Act IV
© Emma Lazarus
Night. RIBERA'S bedroom. RIBERA discovered in his dressing-gown,
seated reading beside a table, with a light upon it. Enter from
an open door at the back of the stage, MARIA. She stands
irresolute for a moment on the threshold behind her father,
watching him, passes her hand rapidly over her brow and eyes,
and then knocks.
