Poems begining by T
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To His Worthy Friend Doctor Witty Upon His Translation Of The Popular Errors
© Andrew Marvell
Sit further, and make room for thine own fame,
Where just desert enrolles thy honour'd Name
The good Interpreter. Some in this task
Take of the Cypress vail, but leave a mask,
To Songs At the Marriage Of The Lord Fauconberg And The Lady Mary Cromwell
© Andrew Marvell
Endymion
Cynthia, O Cynthia, turn thine Ear,
nor scorn Endymions plaints to hear.
As we our Flocks, so you command
The fleecy Clouds with silver wand.
The Dryad
© Robert Laurence Binyon
What has the ilex heard,
What has the laurel seen,
That the pale edges of their leaves are stirred?
What spirit stole between?
The Way That Lovers Use
© Rupert Brooke
The way that lovers use is this;
They bow, catch hands, with never a word,
And their lips meet, and they do kiss,
- So I have heard.
Translated
© Andrew Marvell
Facundis dedit ille notis, interprete plumas
Insinuare sonos oculis, & pingere voces,
Et mentem chartis, oculis impertiit aurem.
Touch
© Octavio Paz
My hands
Open the curtains of your being
Clothe you in a further nudity
Uncover the bodies of your body
My hands
Invent another body for your body
The Death of Cromwell
© Andrew Marvell
That Providence which had so long the care
Of Cromwell's head, and numbered every hair,
Now in itself (the glass where all appears)
Had seen the period of his golden years:
And thenceforh only did attend to trace
What death might least so fair a life deface.
The Contentment Of A Poor Recluse
© Confucius
My only door some pieces of crossed wood,
Within it I can rest enjoy.
I drink the water wimpling from the spring;
Nor hunger can my peace destroy.
The First Anniversary Of The Government Under O.C.
© Andrew Marvell
Like the vain Curlings of the Watry maze,
Which in smooth streams a sinking Weight does raise;
So Man, declining alwayes, disappears.
In the Weak Circles of increasing Years;
The Gallery
© Andrew Marvell
Clora come view my Soul, and tell
Whether I have contriv'd it well.
Now all its several lodgings lye
Compos'd into one Gallery;
There's Wisdom In Women
© Rupert Brooke
"Oh love is fair, and love is rare;" my dear one she said,
"But love goes lightly over." I bowed her foolish head,
And kissed her hair and laughed at her. Such a child was she;
So new to love, so true to love, and she spoke so bitterly.
The Picture Of Little T.C. In A Prospect Of Flowers
© Andrew Marvell
See with what simplicity
This Nimph begins her golden daies!
In the green Grass she loves to lie,
And there with her fair Aspect tames
The Nymph Complaining For The Death Of Her Faun
© Andrew Marvell
The wanton Troopers riding by
Have shot my Faun and it will dye.
Ungentle men! They cannot thrive
To kill thee. Thou neer didst alive
The Mower To The Glo-Worms
© Andrew Marvell
Ye living Lamps, by whose dear light
The Nightingale does sit so late,
And studying all the Summer-night,
Her matchless Songs does meditate;
The Sluggard
© Isaac Watts
'Tis the voice of the sluggard; I heard him complain,
"You have waked me too soon, I must slumber again."
As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed,
Turns his sides and his shoulders and his heavy head.
The Fair Singer
© Andrew Marvell
To make a final conquest of all me,
Love did compose so sweet an Enemy,
In whom both Beauties to my death agree,
Joyning themselves in fatal Harmony;
That while she with her Eyes my Heart does bind,
She with her Voice might captivate my Mind.
The Old Front Gate
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
W'en daih's chillun in de house,
Dey keep on a-gittin' tall;
The Picnic
© Charles Godfrey Leland
DE picknock oud at Spraker's Wood:-
It melt de soul und fire de plood.
Id sofly slid from cakes und cream;
Boot busted oop on brandy shdeam.
The Unfortunate Lover
© Andrew Marvell
Alas, how pleasant are their dayes
With whom the Infant Love yet playes!
Sorted by pairs, they still are seen
By Fountains cool, and Shadows green.
