THUNDER TIDES
At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,
Hangs a thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years.
And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
He, too, is no mean preacher:
Come forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher.
Wordsworth—The Tables Turned.
| seealso = (See also Storm)
| topic = Thrush
| page = 791
}}
THUNDER
{{Hoyt quote
| num = 2
| text = <poem>The sky is changed!—and such a change! O
night,
And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous
strong,
Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light
Of a dark eye in woman! Far along,
From peak to peak the rattling crags among
Leaps the live thunder!
Byron—Childe Harold. Canto III. St. 92
Hark, hark! Deep sounds, and deeper still,
Are howling from the mountain's bosom:
There's not a breath of wind upon the hill,
Yet quivers every leaf, and drops each blossom :
Earth groans as if beneath a heavy load.
| author = Byron
| work = Heaven and Earth. Pt. I. Sc. 3.
Loud roared the dreadful thunder,
The rain a deluge showers.
Andrew Cherry—Bay of Biscay.
Thy thunder, conscious of the new command,
Rumbles reluctant o'er our fallen house.
Keat&—Hyperion. L. 60.
As a storm-cloud lurid with lightning
And a cry of lamentation,
Repeated and again repeated,
Deep and loud
As the reverberation
Of cloud answering unto cloud,
Swells and rose away in the distance,
As if the sheeted
Lightning retreated,
Baffled and thwarted by the wind's resistance.
| author = Longfellow
| work = Christus. The Golden Legend.
Epilogue. L. 62.
The thunder,
Wing'd with red lightning and impetuous rage,
Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now
To bellow through the vast and boundless deep.
| author = Milton
| work = Paradise Lost.
| place = Bk. I. L. 174.
o
To stand against the deep, dread-bolted thunder?
In the most terrible and nimble stroke
Of quick, cross lightning?
King Lear. Act IV. Sc. 7. L. 33.
Are there no stones in heaven
But what serve for the thunder?
Othello. Act V. Sc. 2. L. 234.
The thunder,
That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd
The name of Prosper; it did bass my trespass.
Tempest. Act III. Sc. 3. L. 97.
C'est l'eclair qui parait, la foudre va partir.
It is the flash which appears, the thunderbolt will follow.
Voltaire—Oreste. II. 7.
THYME
Thymus
I know a bank where the wild thyme blows.
Midsummer Night's Dream. Act II. Sc. 1.
L. 249.
TIBER
| seealso = (See also {{sc|Rome)
Thou hast fair forms that move
With queenly tread;
Thou hast proud fanes above
Thy mighty dead.
Yet wears thy Tiber's shore
A mournful mien:—
Rome, Rome, thou art no more
As thou hast been.
Felicia D. Hemans—Roman Girl's Song.
Those graceful groves that shade the plain,
Where Tiber rolls majestic to the main,
And flattens, as he runs, the fair campagne.
Ovid—Metamorphoses. 3k. XIV. Mneas Arrives in Italy. L. 8. Sir Sam'l Garth's trans.
Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears
Into the channel, till the lowest stream
Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.
Julius Caesar. Act I. Sc. 1. L. 63.
TIDES
All night the thirsty beach has listening Iain
With patience dumb,
Counting the slow, sad moments of her pain;
Now morn has come,
And with the morn the punctual tide again.
Susan Coolidce—Flood-Tide.
The punctual tide draws up the bay,
With ripple of wave and hiss of spray.
Sdsan Coolidge—On the Shore.
The western tide crept up along the sand,
And o'er and o'er the sand,
And round and round the sand,
As far as eye could see
The rolling mist came down and hid the land:
And never home came she.
| author = Charles Kingsley
| work = The Sands o' Dee. St. 2.
I saw the long line of the vacant shore,
The sea-weed and the shells upon the sand,
And the brown rocks left bare on every hand,
As if the ebbing tide would flow no more.
| author = Longfellow
| work = The Tides.
The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
| author = Longfellow
| work = The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls.
