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Best Famous Triolet Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Triolet poems. This is a select list of the best famous Triolet poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Triolet poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of triolet poems.

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Poems are below...



Written by Robert William Service | Create an image from this poem

Facility

 So easy 'tis to make a rhyme,
That did the world but know it,
Your coachman might Parnassus climb,
Your butler be a poet.
Then, oh, how charming it would be If, when in haste hysteric You called the page, you learned that he Was grappling with a lyric.
Or else what rapture it would yield, When cook sent up the salad, To find within its depths concealed A touching little ballad.
Or if for tea and toast you yearned, What joy to find upon it The chambermaid had coyly laid A palpitating sonnet.
Your baker could the fashion set; Your butcher might respond well; With every tart a triolet, With every chop a rondel.
Your tailor's bill .
.
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well, I'll be blowed! Dear chap! I never knowed him .
.
.
He's gone and written me an ode, Instead of what I owed him.
So easy 'tis to rhyme .
.
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yet stay! Oh, terrible misgiving! Please do not give the game away .
.
.
I've got to make my living.
Written by Thomas Hardy | Create an image from this poem

Birds at Winter Nightfall (Triolet)

 Around the house the flakes fly faster, 
And all the berries now are gone 
From holly and cotoneaster 
Around the house.
The flakes fly!--faster Shutting indoors that crumb-outcaster We used to see upon the lawn Around the house.
The flakes fly faster, And all the berries now are gone!
Written by Thomas Hardy | Create an image from this poem

How Great My Grief (Triolet)

 How great my grief, my joys how few, 
Since first it was my fate to know thee! 
- Have the slow years not brought to view 
How great my grief, my joys how few, 
Nor memory shaped old times anew, 
 Nor loving-kindness helped to show thee 
How great my grief, my joys how few, 
 Since first it was my fate to know thee?
Written by Andrew Barton Paterson | Create an image from this poem

A Triolet

 Of all the sickly forms of verse, 
Commend me to the triolet.
It makes bad writers somewhat worse: Of all the sickly forms of verse, That fall beneath a reader's curse, It is the feeblest jingle yet.
Of all the sickly forms of verse, Commend me to the triolet.
Written by Thomas Hardy | Create an image from this poem

Winter in Durnover Field

 Scene.
--A wide stretch of fallow ground recently sown with wheat, and frozen to iron hardness.
Three large birds walking about thereon, and wistfully eyeing the surface.
Wind keen from north-east: sky a dull grey.
(Triolet) Rook.
--Throughout the field I find no grain; The cruel frost encrusts the cornland! Starling.
--Aye: patient pecking now is vain Throughout the field, I find .
.
.
Rook.
--No grain! Pigeon.
--Nor will be, comrade, till it rain, Or genial thawings loose the lorn land Throughout the field.
Rook.
--I find no grain: The cruel frost encrusts the cornland!