Poems begining by T
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The Microbe
© Hilaire Belloc
The Microbe is so very small
You cannot make him out at all,
But many sanguine people hope
To see him through a microscope.
The Birds
© Hilaire Belloc
When Jesus Christ was four years old
The angels brought Him toys of gold,
Which no man ever had bought or sold.
The Whale
© Hilaire Belloc
The Whale that wanders round the Pole
Is not a table fish.
You cannot bake or boil him whole
Nor serve him in a dish;
The Scorpion
© Hilaire Belloc
The Scorpion is as black as soot,
He dearly loves to bite;
He is a most unpleasant brute
To find in bed at night.
The Pelagian Drinking Song
© Hilaire Belloc
Pelagius lived at Kardanoel
And taught a doctrine there
How, whether you went to heaven or to hell
It was your own affair.
It had nothing to do with the Church, my boy,
But was your own affair.
The Lion
© Hilaire Belloc
The Lion, the Lion, he dwells in the Waste,
He has a big head and a very small waist;
But his shoulders are stark, and his jaws they are grim,
And a good little child will not play with him.
The Old Gentry
© Matthew Prior
That all from Adam first began,
None but ungodly Whiston doubts,
And that his son and his son's son
Were all but ploughmen, clowns, and louts.
The Telephone
© Hilaire Belloc
To-night in million-voiced London I
Was lonely as the million-pointed sky
Until your single voice. Ah! So the sun
Peoples all heaven, although he be but one.
The world is full of double beds
© Hilaire Belloc
The world is full of double beds
And most delightful maidenheads,
Which being so, theres no excuse
For sodomy of self-abuse.
Through lane it laythrough bramble
© Emily Dickinson
Through lane it laythrough bramble
Through clearing and through wood
Banditti often passed us
Upon the lonely road.
To A Wealthy Man Who Promised A Second Subscription To The Dublin Municipal Gallery If It Were Prove
© William Butler Yeats
You gave, but will not give again
Until enough of paudeen's pence
To Shakespeare (II)
© Frances Anne Kemble
Oft, when my lips I open to rehearse
Thy wondrous spells of wisdom and of power,
The Catholic Sun
© Hilaire Belloc
Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine,
Theres always laughter and good red wine.
At least Ive always found it so.
Benedicamus Domino!
The Vulture
© Hilaire Belloc
The Vulture eats between his meals,
And that's the reason why
He very, very, rarely feels
As well as you and I.
The Glove and the Lions
© James Henry Leigh Hunt
King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport,
And one day as his lions fought, sat looking on the court;
The nobles filled the benches, and the ladies in their pride,
And 'mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sighed:
And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show,
Valour and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.
The Tiger
© Hilaire Belloc
The tiger, on the other hand,
Is kittenish and mild,
And makes a pretty playfellow
For any little child.
To Alfred Tennyson - 1883
© Robert Fuller Murray
Familiar with thy melody,
We go debating of its power,
As churls, who hear it hour by hour,
Contemn the skylark's minstrelsy -
The Elephant
© Hilaire Belloc
When people call this beast to mind,
They marvel more and more
At such a little tail behind,
So large a trunk before.
Tarantella
© Hilaire Belloc
Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?
And the tedding and the bedding
The Frog
© Hilaire Belloc
No animal will more repay
A treatment kind and fair;
At least so lonely people say
Who keep a frog (and, by the way,
They are extremely rare).
