Poems begining by T
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The Antique To The Northern Wanderer
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Thou hast crossed over torrents, and swung through wide-spreading ocean,--
Over the chain of the Alps dizzily bore thee the bridge,
That thou might'st see me from near, and learn to value my beauty,
Which the voice of renown spreads through the wandering world.
And now before me thou standest,--canst touch my altar so holy,--
But art thou nearer to me, or am I nearer to thee?
The Animating Principle
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Nowhere in the organic or sensitive world ever kindles
Novelty, save in the flower, noblest creation of life.
The Alpine Hunter
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Wilt thou not the lambkins guard?
Oh, how soft and meek they look,
Feeding on the grassy sward,
Sporting round the silvery brook!
"Mother, mother, let me go
On yon heights to chase the roe!"
The Agreement
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Both of us seek for truth--in the world without thou dost seek it,
I in the bosom within; both of us therefore succeed.
If the eye be healthy, it sees from without the Creator;
And if the heart, then within doubtless it mirrors the world.
The sun has burst the sky
© Jenny Joseph
The sun has burst the sky
Because I love you
And the river its banks.
To Mrs Reynolds' Cat
© John Keats
Cat! who hast passd thy grand climacteric,
How many mice and rats hast in thy days
Destroyd? How many tit bits stolen? Gaze
With those bright languid segments green, and prick
To Byron
© John Keats
Byron! how sweetly sad thy melody!
Attuning still the soul to tenderness,
As if soft Pity, with unusual stress,
Had touch'd her plaintive lute, and thou, being by,
To G.A.W.
© John Keats
Nymph of the downward smile and sidelong glance!
In what diviner moments of the day
Art thou most lovely?when gone far astray
Into the labyrinths of sweet utterance,
To Haydon
© John Keats
Haydon! forgive me that I cannot speak
Definitively of these mighty things;
Forgive me, that I have not eagle's wings,
That what I want I know not where to seek,
To Ailsa Rock
© John Keats
Hearken, thou craggy ocean-pyramid,
Give answer by thy voicethe sea-fowls' screams!
When were thy shoulders mantled in huge streams?
When from the sun was thy broad forehead hid?
To John Hamilton Reynolds
© John Keats
O that a week could be an age, and we
Felt parting and warm meeting every week,
Then one poor year a thousand years would be,
The flush of welcome ever on the cheek:
This Living Hand
© John Keats
This living hand, now warm and capable
Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold
And in the icy silence of the tomb,
So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights
To One Who Has Been Long In City Pent
© John Keats
To one who has been long in city pent,
'Tis very sweet to look into the fair
And open face of heaven,--to breathe a prayer
Full in the smile of the blue firmament.
To Homer
© John Keats
Standing aloof in giant ignorance,
Of thee I hear and of the Cyclades,
As one who sits ashore and longs perchance
To visit dolphin-coral in deep seas.
To
© John Keats
Had I a man's fair form, then might my sighs
Be echoed swiftly through that ivory shell,
Thine ear, and find thy gentle heart; so well
Would passion arm me for the enterprise:
To The Nile
© John Keats
Son of the old Moon-mountains African!
Chief of the Pyramid and Crocodile!
We call thee fruitful, and that very while
A desert fills our seeing's inward span:
Think Of It Not, Sweet One
© John Keats
Think not of it, sweet one, so;---
Give it not a tear;
Sigh thou mayst, and bid it go
Any---anywhere.
To Fanny
© John Keats
I cry your mercypitylove!aye, love!
Merciful love that tantalizes not,
One-thoughted, never-wandering, guileless love,
Unmasked, and being seenwithout a blot!
To A Young Lady Who Sent Me A Laurel Crown
© John Keats
Fresh morning gusts have blown away all fear
From my glad bosom,now from gloominess
I mount for evernot an atom less
Than the proud laurel shall content my bier.
