Poems begining by T
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The Favor Of The Moment
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Once more, then, we meet
In the circles of yore;
Let our song be as sweet
In its wreaths as before,
The Fairest Apparition
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
If thou never hast gazed upon beauty in moments of sorrow,
Thou canst with truth never boast that thou true beauty hast seen.
If thou never hast gazed upon gladness in beauteous features,
Thou canst with truth never boast that thou true gladness hast seen.
The Eleusinian Festival
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Wreathe in a garland the corn's golden ear!
With it, the Cyane [31] blue intertwine
Rapture must render each glance bright and clear,
For the great queen is approaching her shrine,--
The Duty Of All
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Ever strive for the whole; and if no whole thou canst make thee,
Join, then, thyself to some whole, as a subservient limb!
The Driver
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
"What knight or what vassal will be so bold
As to plunge in the gulf below?
See! I hurl in its depths a goblet of gold,
Already the waters over it flow.
The man who can bring back the goblet to me,
May keep it henceforward,--his own it shall be."
The Division Of The Earth
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
"Take the world!" Zeus exclaimed from his throne in the skies
To the children of man--"take the world I now give;
It shall ever remain as your heirloom and prize,
So divide it as brothers, and happily live."
The Difficult Union
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Why are taste and genius so seldom met with united?
Taste of strength is afraid,--genius despises the rein.
The Dance
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
See how, like lightest waves at play, the airy dancers fleet;
And scarcely feels the floor the wings of those harmonious feet.
Ob, are they flying shadows from their native forms set free?
Or phantoms in the fairy ring that summer moonbeams see?
The Cranes Of Ibycus
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Once to the song and chariot-fight,
Where all the tribes of Greece unite
On Corinth's isthmus joyously,
The god-loved Ibycus drew nigh.
The Count Of Hapsburg
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
At Aix-la-Chapelle, in imperial array,
In its halls renowned in old story,
At the coronation banquet so gay
King Rudolf was sitting in glory.
The Conflict
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
No! I this conflict longer will not wage,
The conflict duty claims--the giant task;--
Thy spells, O virtue, never can assuage
The heart's wild fire--this offering do not ask
The Complaint Of Ceres
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Does pleasant spring return once more?
Does earth her happy youth regain?
Sweet suns green hills are shining o'er;
Soft brooklets burst their icy chain:
The Circle Of Nature
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
All, thou gentle one, lies embraced in thy kingdom; the graybeard
Back to the days of his youth, childish and child-like, returns.
The Celebrated Woman - An Epistle By A Married Man
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
If Faust had really any hand
In printing, I can understand
The fate which legends more than hint;--
The devil take all hands that print!
The Best State
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
"How can I know the best state?"
In the way that thou know'st the best woman;
Namely, my friend, that the world ever is silent of both.
The Battle
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Heavy and solemn,
A cloudy column,
Through the green plain they marching came!
Measure less spread, like a table dread,
The Bards Of Olden Time
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Say, where is now that glorious race, where now are the singers
Who, with the accents of life, listening nations enthralled,
Sung down from heaven the gods, and sung mankind up to heaven,
And who the spirit bore up high on the pinions of song?
The Assignation
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Hark! through the alley hear I now
A footfall? Comes the maiden?
No,--'twas the fruit slid from the bough,
With its own richness laden!
The Artists
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
How gracefully, O man, with thy palm-bough,
Upon the waning century standest thou,
In proud and noble manhood's prime,
With unlocked senses, with a spirit freed,
The Antiques At Paris
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
That which Grecian art created,
Let the Frank, with joy elated,
Bear to Seine's triumphant strand,
And in his museums glorious
Show the trophies all-victorious
To his wondering fatherland.
