Poems begining by T

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The Second Hymn; being a Dialogue between Three Shepherds

© Jeremy Taylor

Chorus.
O what a gracious God have we!
How good? how great? Even as our misery.

The Last Word

© Sir Henry Newbolt

Before the April night was late
A rider came to the castle gate;
A rider breathing human breath,
But the words he spoke were the words of Death.

The Story Of Glaucus The Thessalian

Up to the deep founts of the tenderest eyes
That e'er have shone, I think, since in some dell
Of Argos and enchanted Thessaly,
The poet, from whose heart-lit brain it came,
Murmured this record unto her he loved?

The Fall Of The Leaf

© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

Earnest and sad the solemn tale

That the sighing winds give back,

The Abencerrage : Canto I.

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Lonely and still are now thy marble halls,
Thou fair Alhambra! there the feast is o'er;
And with the murmur of thy fountain-falls,
Blend the wild tones of minstrelsy no more.

Tooth Painter by Lucille Lang Day : American Life in Poetry #254 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004

© Ted Kooser

What might my late parents have thought, I wonder, to know that there would one day be an occupation known as Tooth Painter? Here’s a partial job description by Lucille Lang Day of Oakland, California. Tooth Painter

He was tall, lean, serious

The Winds Tidings In August 1870

© Augusta Davies Webster

"OH voice of summer winds among the trees,

What soft news art thou bringing to us here?

The Refuge, River, And Rock Of The Church

© John Newton

He who on earth as man was known,
And bore our sins and pains;
Now, seated on th' eternal throne,
The God of glory reigns.

The Confirmation

© Edwin Muir

Yes, yours, my love, is the right human face.

I in my mind had waited for this long,

The Gadder

© Bert Leston Taylor

Among the folks who write me,
From Frisco to Cape Ann,
Is one from whom I often hear,
And whom, I hope, I sometimes cheer --
The pleasant Traveling Man.

The Brus Book VII

© John Barbour

[The king goes to a house, where the goodwife gives him her two sons;
he meets his companions and they take an enemy force in a
village by surprise]

The Epitaph In Form Of A Ballad Which Villon Made For Himself And His Comrades, Expecting To Be Hang

Prince Jesus, that of all art lord and head,
Keep us, that hell be not our bitter bed;
We have nought to do in such a master's hall.
Be not ye therefore of our fellowhead,
But pray to God that he forgive us all.

The Route March

© Henry Lawson

Shall you hear the children singing, O my brothers?
Shall you hear the children singing in the sunshine or the rain?
Therell be sobs beneath the ringing
Of the cheers, and neath the singing
Therell be tears of orphan children when
Our Boys come back again!