Rise from your dreams of the future,-
Of gaining some hard-fought field;
Of storming some airy fortress,

Or bidding some giant yield;
Your future has deeds of glory,

Of honour (God grant it may!)
But your arm will never be stronger,
Or the need so great as to-day.

Toe.- Come, and trip it as you go
On the light fantastic toe.1

A. A. PROCTER, Now, st. 2

MILTON, L'Allegro, lines 33, 34

Together. I would change life's Spring for his roughest

weather,

If we might bear the storm together;
And give my hopes for half thy fears,
And sell my smiles for half thy tears.

Give me one common bliss or woe,
One common friend, one common foe,
On the earth below, or the clouds above,
One thing we both may loathe, or love.

PRAED, TO

st. 9, 10

They have seemed to be together, though absent; shook hands, as over a vast; and embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed winds.

SHAKESPEARE, Winter's Tale, i, 1

Toil. Heaven is blessed with perfect rest, but the blessing

of Earth is toil.

HENRY VAN DYKE,
The Toiling of Felix, Envoy, st. 5

He that will not live by toil
Has no right on English soil!
God's word's our warrant!

KINGSLEY, Alton Locke's Song, st. 2

Perchance, when long, long years are o'er ·

I care not how they flow

Some note of me to that far shore

Across the deep may go;

And thou wilt read, and turn to hide
The conscious blush of woman's pride;
For thou alone wilt know

What spell inspired the silent toil
Of mid-day sun and midnight oil.

1 Come, knit hands, and beat the ground In a light fantastic round.

PRAED, A Farewell, st. 9

MILTON, Comus, lines 143, 144

Toiler.- Round swings the hammer of industry, quickly the sharp chisel rings,

And the heart of the toiler has throbbings that stir not the bosom of kings,

He the true ruler and conqueror, he the true king of his race,

Who nerveth his arm for life's combat, and looks the strong world in the face.

D. F. MAC-CARTHY, The Bell-Founder

Toilet. Rufa, whose eye quick-glancing o'er the Park,
Attracts each light gay meteor of a spark,
Agrees as ill with Rufa studying Locke,

As Sappho's di'monds with her dirty smock;
Or Sappho at her toilet's greasy task,

With Sappho fragrant at an ev'ning masque.

POPE, Moral Essays, Epistle ii, lines 21-26

Toiling. Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing,

Onward through life he goes;

Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close;

Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.

LONGFELLOW, The Village Blacksmith, st. 7

Toll.- Toll for the brave!

The brave that are no more!

COWPER, On the Loss of the Royal George, st. I

Tolling. Hear the tolling of the bells

Iron bells!

What a world of solemn thought their monody compels.

POE, The Bells, st. 4

Tom. Poor Tom's a-cold.—SHAKESPEARE, King Lear, iii, 4

Tomb.

When some proud son of man returns to earth,
Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth,

The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe,
And storied urns record who rests below;
When all is done, upon the tomb is seen,
Not what he was, but what he should have been.
BYRON, Inscription on the Monument of a
Newfoundland Dog, lines 1-6

Tombs.- Gilded tombs do worms enfold.

Tommy.

SHAKESPEARE, Merchant of Venice, ii, 7

It's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an'
'Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country," when the guns begin
KIPLING, Tommy

to shoot.

To-morrow.-To-morrow!- Why, to-morrow I may be
Myself with Yesterday's seven thousand years.1
OMAR KHAYYÁM, Rubáiyát (trans. Fitzgerald), st. 21

And if the wine you drink, the lip you press,
End in what all begins and ends in - Yes;

Think then you are To-day what Yesterday
You were To-morrow you shall not be less.
OMAR KHAYYÁM, Rubáiyát (trans. Fitzgerald), st. 42
To-morrow shall be like

To-day, but much more sweet.2

C. G. ROSSETTI, The Unseen World, st 2.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage3
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

SHAKESPEARE, Macbeth, v, 5

In human hearts what bolder thought can rise
Than man's presumption on to-morrow's dawn?
Where is to-morrow?

Tongue.

YOUNG, Night Thoughts, I, lines 373-375

Within this hollow cavern hung

The ready, swift, and tuneful tongue:
If Falsehood's honey it disdained,

And when it could not praise was chained;
If bold in Virtue's cause it spoke,

Yet gentle concord never broke,-
This silent tongue shall plead for thee
When Time unveils Eternity!

ANONYMOUS, To a Skeleton, st. 3

The firste vertue, sone, if thou wolt lere,

Is to restreyne, and kepe wel thy tonge.4

CHAUCER, The Manciple's Tale, lines 228, 229

1 To-morrow, when You shall be You no more?

OMAR KHAYYÁM, Rubáiyát (trans. Fitzgerald), st. 53

2 We were, fair queen,

Two lads that thought there was no more behind

But such a day to-morrow as to-day,

And to be boy eternal.

SHAKESPEARE, Winter's Tale, i, 2

3 Our little hour of strut and rave.- LOWELL, Commemoration Ode, st. 4

4Give thy thoughts no tongue,

Nor any unproportioned thought his act.- SHAKESPEARE, Hamlet, i, 3

When this poor lisping stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave.

COWPER, Praise for the Fountain Opened, st. 5

Let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,
And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,
Where thrift may follow fawning.

SHAKESPEARE, Hamlet, iii, 2

With doubler tongue

Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.

SHAKESPEARE, Midsummer-Night's Dream, iii, 2

Sir, would she give you so much of her lips
As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,
You'd have enough.

SHAKESPEARE, Othello, ii, 1

My tongue will tell the anger of my heart,
Or else my heart, concealing it, will break;
And rather than it shall, I will be free
Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.

SHAKESPEARE, Taming of the Shrew, iv, 3

What a spendthrift is he of his tongue!

SHAKESPEARE, The Tempest, ii, 1

The tongue is a fire,1as you know, my dear, the tongue
TENNYSON, The Grandmother, st. 7

is a fire.

We must be free or die, who speak the tongue
That Shakespeare spake, the faith and morals hold
Which Milton held.

WORDSWORTH, It Is Not to Be Thought of

Tongues. Alas! they had been friends in youth;
But whispering tongues can poison truth;2
And constancy lives in realms above;
And life is thorny; and youth is vain;
And to be wroth with one we love

Doth work like madness in the brain.

S. T. COLERIDGE, Christabel, II, lines 408-413

How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
Like softest music to attending ears!

SHAKESPEARE, Romeo and Juliet, ii, 2
Music of thousand tongues, formed by one tongue alone.
M. T. VISSCHER, The Nightingale (trans. Bowring)

1 James iii, 6.

2 A tonge cutteth frendship al a-two.

CHAUCER, The Manciples Tale, line 238

Toothache.

Toothache Traveller

There was never yet philosopher

That could endure the toothache patiently.

413

SHAKESPEARE, Much Ado about Nothing, v, I

Tough. He's hard-hearted, sir, is Joe - he's tough, sir, and de-vilish sly! DICKENS, Dombey and Son, vii

Tower.

That tower of strength

Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew!
TENNYSON, Ode on the Death of the Duke of
Wellington, st. 4

-

Tract. I pray for grace
repent each sinful act
Peruse, but underneath the rose, my Bible;
And love my neighbour, far too well, in fact,
To call and twit him with a godly tract
That's turned by application to a libel.

HOOD, Ode to Rae Wilson, Esquire, st. 4

Trade. Hence merchants, unimpeachable of sin
Against the charities of domestic life,
Incorporated, seem at once to lose

Their nature; and, disclaiming all regard
For mercy and the common rights of man,
Build factories with blood, conducting trade
At the sword's point, and dyeing the white robe
Of innocent commercial justice red.1

Traders.

COWPER, The Task: The Winter Evening,
lines 676-683

Within this hour it will be dinner-time:
Till that, I'll view the manners of the town,
Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings,
And then return and sleep within mine inn,
For with long travel I am stiff and weary.

SHAKESPEARE, Comedy of Errors, i, 2

Traveller. A traveller between life and death. WORDSWORTH, She Was a Phantom of Delight, st. 3

1 How long. O cruel nation,

Will you stand, to move the world, on a child's heart,-
Stifle down with a mailed heel its palpitation,
And tread onward to your throne amid the mart?

Our blood splashes upward, O gold-heaper,

And your purple shows your path!

But the child's sob in the silence curses deeper
Than the strong man in his wrath.

E. B. BROWNING, The Cry of the Children, st. 13

The kilns and the curt-tongued mills say Go!
There's plenty that can, if you can't, we know.
Move out, if you think you're underpaid.
The poor are prolific; we're not afraid;

Trade is trade.

LANIER, The Symphony, lines 46-50