Poems begining by T
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The Shadow-Third
© Roderic Quinn
THEY met in the old conventional way,
And married, and that was the end
Of a little matter that touched three hearts
A girl, a man, and his friend.
The Stern Parent
© Harry Graham
Father heard his Children scream,
So he threw them in the stream,
Saying, as he drowned the third,
"Children should be seen, not heard!"
The Sleeping City
© George Meredith
A Princess in the eastern tale
Paced thro' a marble city pale,
And saw in ghastly shapes of stone
The sculptured life she breathed alone;
The Sun kept settingsettingstill
© Emily Dickinson
The Sun kept settingsettingstill
No Hue of Afternoon
Upon the Village I perceived
From House to House 'twas Noon
To The Memory Of Mary Young
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
GOD has his plans, and what if we
With our sight be too blind to see
The Beacon
© Robert Graves
The silent shepherdess,
She of my vows,
Here with me exchanging love
Under dim boughs.
The Skylark
© James Hogg
Bird of the wilderness,
Blithesome and cumberless,
Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!
Emblem of happiness,
Blest is thy dwelling-place -
O to abide in the desert with thee!
This first fallen snow
© Matsuo Basho
This first fallen snow
is barely enough to bend
the jonquil leaves
The Effort
© John Newton
Approach, my soul, the mercy-seat
Where Jesus answers prayer;
There humbly fall before His feet,
For none can perish there.
The Reaper's Child
© Charles Lamb
If you go to the field where the reapers now bind
The sheaves of ripe corn, there a fine little lass,
Only three months of age, by the hedge-row you'll find,
Left alone by its mother upon the low grass.
The Sigh
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
I.
When youth his fairy reign began,
Ere sorrow had proclaimed me man;
While peace the present hour beguiled,
The City of God
© Samuel Johnson
CITY of God, how broad and far
Outspread thy walls sublime!
The true thy chartered freemen are,
Of every age and clime.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Sicilian's Tale; The Bell of Atri
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
He sold his horses, sold his hawks and hounds,
Rented his vineyards and his garden-grounds,
Kept but one steed, his favorite steed of all,
To starve and shiver in a naked stall,
And day by day sat brooding in his chair,
Devising plans how best to hoard and spare.
The Lagoon
© Roderic Quinn
WE crept through reed-beds wet with dew,
The sun went down in gold;
Hoisting her round triumphantly,
The moon showed red and bold.
The Troubadour Of Trebizend
© Madison Julius Cawein
NIGHT, they say, is no man's friend:
And at night he met his end
In the woods of Trebizend.
Hate crouched near him as he strode
They Didnt Meet
© Anna Akhmatova
They didn't meet me, roamed,
On steps with lanterns bright.
I entered quiet home
In murky, pail moonlight.
