Poems begining by T
/ page 101 of 916 /The Domineering Eagle And The Inventive Bratling
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
Oer a small suburban borough
Once an eagle used to fly,
The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto V.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
III The Heart's Prophecies
Be not amazed at life; 'tis still
The mode of God with His elect
Their hopes exactly to fulfil,
In times and ways they least expect.
The London Lackpenny
© John Lydgate
To London once my steps I bent,
Where truth in no wise should be faint;
The Orphan's Song
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
I had a little bird,
I took it from the nest;
I prest it, and blest it,
And nurst it in my breast.
The Mussulman's Dream Of The Vizier And Dervis
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Where is that World, to which the Fancy flies,
When Sleep excludes the Present from our Eyes;
The Dykes
© Rudyard Kipling
We have no heart for the fishing, we have no hand for the oar
All that our fathers taught us of old pleases us now no more;
All that our own hearts bid us believe we doubt where we do not deny
There is no proof in the bread we eat or rest in the toil we ply.
The Poet
© Madison Julius Cawein
He stands above all worldly schism,
And, gazing over life's abysm,
Beholds within the starry range
Of heaven laws of death and change,
That, through his soul's prophetic prism,
Are turned to rainbows wild and strange.
To Vittoria Colonna. (Sonnet VI.)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
When the prime mover of my many sighs
Heaven took through death from out her earthly place,
The Oath
© Allen Tate
It was near evening, the room was cold
Half dark; Uncle Ben's brass bullet-mould
The Lady To Her Guitar
© Emily Jane Brontë
For him who struck thy foreign string,
I ween this heart has ceased to care;
Then why dost thou such feelings bring
To my sad spirit-old Guitar?
The Song Of Hiawatha III: Hiawatha's Childhood
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Downward through the evening twilight,
In the days that are forgotten,
Touchstone On A Bus
© Alfred Noyes
Last night I rode with Touchstone on a bus
From Ludgate Hill to World's End. It was he!
The Sympathetic Minister
© Edgar Albert Guest
MY father is a peaceful man,
He tries in every way he can
To the Ottawa
© Archibald Lampman
Dear dark-brown waters full of all the stain
Of sombre spruce-woods and the forest fens,
Laden with sound from far-off northern glens
Where winds and craggy cataracts complain,
The Little Fauns To Proserpine
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
BROWNER than the hazel-husk, swifter than the wind,
Though you turn from heath and hill, we are hard behind,
Singing, "Ere the sorrows rise, ere the gates unclose
Bind above your wistful eyes the memory of a rose."
To Damascus
© Henry Kendall
Where the sinister sun of the Syrians beat
On the brittle, bright stubble,
And the camels fell back from the swords of the heat,
Came Saul, with a fire in the soles of his feet,
And a forehead of trouble.
The Dream by the Fountain
© Charles Harpur
Bright was her brow, not the mornings brow brighter,
But her eyes were two midnights of passionate thought;
Light was her motion, the breezes not lighter,
And her looks were like sunshine and shadow in-wrought.