Poems begining by T
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The Old Sampler
© Margaret Elizabeth Sangster
Out of the way, in a corner Of our dear old attic room,Where bunches of herbs from the hillside Shake ever a faint perfume,An oaken chest is standing, With hasp and padlock and key,Strong as the hands that made it On the other side of the sea
The Mirror for Magistrates: The Induction
© Thomas Sackville
The wrathful winter, 'proaching on apace,With blustering blasts had all ybar'd the treen,And old Saturnus, with his frosty face,With chilling cold had pierc'd the tender green;The mantles rent, wherein enwrapped been The gladsome groves that now lay overthrown, The tapets torn, and every bloom down blown
There is Nothing Like a Dame—
© Rowley Rosemarie
There may be nothing like me, but I assure youthe world would have gone to hell but for organised sex-if boys and girls were left to nature's provenance,a person like me would be nowhere at all.
The Sea Change
© Rowley Rosemarie
Lost in the crenellations of the sea waveA shell, a limpet, hugs the graining sandPassive, quiet, with bent and covered head,Enduring all. Beneath the tough rim, blind.
The Humours of the Seminarian's House
© Rowley Rosemarie
Not in our fall, O Lord, but in Your graceIs living done each day instead of dying;A portion of our day makes up time's raceAnd absolute grandeur is signified by trying.
The House of Life: The Sonnet
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
A Sonnet is a moment's monument, Memorial from the Soul's eternity To one dead deathless hour
The Ballad of Dead Ladies
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Tell me now in what hidden way is Lady Flora the lovely Roman?Where's Hipparchia, and where is Thais, Neither of them the fairer woman? Where is Echo, beheld of no man,Only heard on river and mere, -- She whose beauty was more than human?
Tristesse
© Robertson James
Lost is my strength, my mirth, the joy intense Of very life, the comrades and the zest; -- All, even to my pride, that unsuppressedHad wrought my spirit to self-confidence
The Wreckers' Prayer
© Roberts Theodore Goodridge
Give us a wrack or two, Good Lard,For winter in Tops'il Tickle bes hard,Wild grey frost creepin' like mortal sinAnd perishin' lack of bread in the bin.
The Sandbar
© Roberts Theodore Goodridge
Here the black crows gather; Here the herons wadeAlong the amber shallows, Far from their willow shade
The Blind Sailor
© Roberts Theodore Goodridge
."Strike me blind!." we swore. God! And I was stricken! I have seen the morning fade And noonday thicken.
Twilight on Sixth Avenue at Ninth Street
© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
Over the tops of the houses Twilight and sunset meet.The green, diaphanous dusk Sinks to the eager street.
Tantramar Revisited
© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
Summers and summers have come, and gone with the flight of the swallow;Sunshine and thunder have been, storm, and winter, and frost;Many and many a sorrow has all but died from remembrance,Many a dream of joy fall'n in the shadow of pain
The Solitary Woodsman
© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
When the grey lake-water rushesPast the dripping alder-bushes, And the bodeful autumn windIn the fir-tree weeps and hushes, --
The Skater
© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
My glad feet shod with the glittering steelI was the god of the wingèd heel.
The Salt Flats
© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
Here clove the keels of centuries ago Where now unvisited the flats lie bare
