Poems begining by T
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The Metamorphosis Of Plants.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Happily teach thee the word, which may the mystery
solve!
Closely observe how the plant, by little and little progressing,
The King Of Thule.*
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
(* This ballad is also introduced in Faust,
where it is sung by Margaret.)IN Thule lived a monarch,Still faithful to the grave,
To whom his dying mistressA golden goblet gave.Beyond all price he deem'd it,He quaff'd it at each feast;
And, when he drain'd that goblet,His tears to flow ne'er ceas'd.And when he felt death near him,His cities o'er he told,
The Eagle And Dove.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
IN search of prey once raised his pinions
An eaglet;
A huntsman's arrow came, and reft
His right wing of all motive power.
Thoughts On Jesus Christ's Descent Into Hell.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
[THE remarkable Poem of which this is a literal
but faint representation, was written when Goethe was only sixteen
years old. It derives additional interest from the fact of its being
the very earliest piece of his that is preserved. The few other
pieces included by Goethe under the title of Religion and Church
are polemical, and devoid of interest to the English reader.]
The Bridegroom.*
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
(Not in the English sense of the word, but the German, where it
has the meaning of betrothed.)I SLEPT,--'twas midnight,--in my bosom woke,As though 'twere day, my love-o'erflowing heart;
To me it seemed like night, when day first broke;What is't to me, whate'er it may impart?She was away; the world's unceasing strifeFor her alone I suffer'd through the heat
Of sultry day; oh, what refreshing lifeAt cooling eve!--my guerdon was complete.The sun now set, and wand'ring hand in hand,His last and blissful look we greeted then;
The Fisherman.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
THE waters rush'd, the waters rose,A fisherman sat by,
While on his line in calm reposeHe cast his patient eye.
And as he sat, and hearken'd there,The flood was cleft in twain,
And, lo! a dripping mermaid fairSprang from the troubled main.She sang to him, and spake the while:"Why lurest thou my brood,
The Crucifix And The Owl
© Arthur Symons
That unutterable Agony on the Crucifix
Of Jesus Christ the hideous Jews decried
The Man Who Discovered The Use Of A Chair
© Alfred Noyes
Now he went one night to a dinner of state
_Hear! hear!
In the proud Guildhall!_
And he sat on his chair, and he ate from a plate;
But nobody heard his opinions at all;
The Wedding.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
A FEAST was in a village spread,--
It was a wedding-day, they said.
The parlour of the inn I found,
And saw the couples whirling round,
The Moon In Silver Glory Shone
© John Newton
The moon in silver glory shone,
And not a cloud in sight;
When suddenly a shade begun
To intercept her light.
The Erl-king.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
WHO rides there so late through the night dark and drear?
The father it is, with his infant so dear;
He holdeth the boy tightly clasp'd in his arm,
He holdeth him safely, he keepeth him warm.
The Legend Of The Horseshoe.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
WHAT time our Lord still walk'd the earth,
Unknown, despised, of humble birth,
And on Him many a youth attended
(His words they seldom comprehended),
To My Sister
© William Wordsworth
IT is the first mild day of March:
Each minute sweeter than before
The redbreast sings from the tall larch
That stands beside our door.
The Sense Of The Sleight-Of-Hand Man
© Wallace Stevens
One's grand flights, one's Sunday baths,
One's tootings at the weddings of the soul
Occur as they occur. So bluish clouds
Occurred above the empty house and the leaves
Thorkilds Song
© Rudyard Kipling
There´s no wind along these seas,
Out oars for Stavanger!
Forward all for Stavanger!
So we must wake the white-ash breeze.
Let fall for Stavanger!
A long pull for Stavanger!
The River Of Rivers In Connecticut
© Wallace Stevens
There is a great river this side of Stygia
Before one comes to the first black cataracts
And trees that lack the intelligence of trees.
The Well Dressed Man With A Beard
© Wallace Stevens
After the final no there comes a yes
And on that yes the future world depends.
No was the night. Yes is this present sun.
If the rejected things, the things denied,
To An Aeolian Harp
© Sara Teasdale
The winds have grown articulate in thee,
And voiced again the wail of ancient woe
That smote upon the winds of long ago:
The cries of Trojan women as they flee,
The Plough, A Landscape In Berkshire
© Richard Henry Horne
ABOVE yon sombre swell of land
Thou see'st the dawn's grave orange hue,
With one pale streak like yellow sand,
And over that a vein of blue.
