Who is John Todhunter

John Todhunter (30 December 1839 – 25 October 1916) was an Irish poet and playwright who wrote seven volumes of poetry, and several plays.

Life

Todhunter was born in Dublin, the eldest son of Thomas Harvey Todhunter, a Quaker merchant of English origin. He was educated at Quaker schools, including Bootham School, York and Mountmellick in Ireland. He started work at his father's offices in Dublin and London before continuing on to attend Trinity College, where he studied medicine. While at Trinity, Todhunter won the Vice-Chancellor's prize for English Verse 1864, 1865 and 1866, and the Gold Medal of the Philosophical Society 1866 for an essay. He also clerked for William Stokes while studying. Todhunter received his Bachelor of Medicine in 1867, and his Doctorate...
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John Todhunter Poems

  • Maureen
    O, you plant the pain in my heart with your wistful eyes,
    Girl of my choice, Maureen!
    Will you drive me mad for the kisses your shy, sweet mouth denies,
    Maureen?...
  • Aghadoe
    There's a glade in Aghadoe, Aghadoe, Aghadoe,
    There's a green and silent glade in Aghadoe,
    Where we met, my love and I, Love's fair planet in the sky,
    O'er that sweet and silent glade in Aghadoe....
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Top 10 most used topics by John Todhunter

Heart 2 Love 2 Mouth 2 King 2 Sweet 2 I Love You 2 Walk 1 Walking 1 Cold 1 Cover 1


John Todhunter Quotes

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Comments about John Todhunter

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Neaafnw: found at st john’s. one of their more visited spots. land to hunt is short in the lakes. can’t be choosy. aye baz todhunter… yep that’s his name.
Aholt_andrew: my essay for professor john d. hosler's recent book, seven myths of military history. it considers the claim that religion is the cause of most wars and argues it is a myth. thoughtful feedback is welcome.
Agvocate_au: what ancestors do you look like? mum shows me this for the first time ever, in a locket she inherited. great grandfather todhunter. cowra. i see my grandmother, uncle, cousin john & my younger brother in this face.
Kevblue777: summer declines and roses have grown rare, but cottage crofts are gay with hollyhocks, and in old garden walks you breathe an air fragrant of pinks and august-smelling stocks. –john todhunter (1839–1916)
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Poem of the day

Edgar Albert Guest Poem
The Killing Place
 by Edgar Albert Guest

We're hiking along at a two-forty pace
We 're making life seem like a man-killing race,
With our nerves all on edge and our jaws firmly set
We go rushing along; with our brows lined with sweat
And our cheeks pale and drawn every minute we dash,
And the goal that we 're after is merely more cash.

We 're out for the money, the greenbacks and gold,
...

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