Poems begining by T
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The Rwose In The Dark
© William Barnes
In zummer, leäte at evenèn tide,
I zot to spend a moonless hour
'Ithin the window, wi' the zide
A-bound wi' rwoses out in flow'r,
Bezide the bow'r, vorsook o' birds,
An' listen'd to my true-love's words.
The Alienated Mistress; A Madrigal. (From An Unfinished Melodrama)
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Lady.
If Love be dead (and you aver it!)
Tell me, Bard! where Love lies buried.
The Pine-Apple And The Bee
© William Cowper
The pine-apples, in triple row,
Were basking hot, and all in blow;
The Viewless And Invisible Consequence
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
The viewless and invisible Consequence
Watches thy goings-out, and comings-in,
And...hovers o'er thy guilty sleep,
Unveiling every new-born deed, and thoughts
More ghastly than those deeds--
The Rival Curates
© William Schwenck Gilbert
List while the poet trolls
Of MR. CLAYTON HOOPER,
Who had a cure of souls
At Spiffton-extra-Sooper.
The Legend of Mammon Castle
© Henry Lawson
IN THE days that will be olden after many years are gone,
Ere the world emerged from darkness floating out into the dawn,
On a mountain rising steeply from the depth of marsh and wood
Raised in scorn above the lowlands Mammon Castle proudly stood
The Moon And The Yew Tree
© Sylvia Plath
"This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary.
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.
The grasses unload their griefs at my feet as if I were God,
Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility.
The Butter Betty Bought
© Carolyn Wells
Betty Botta bought some butter;
"But," said she, "this butter's bitter!
The Joys We Miss
© Edgar Albert Guest
There never comes a lonely day but that we miss the laughing ways
Of those who used to walk with us through all our happy yesterdays.
We seldom miss the earthly great-the famous men that life has known-
But, as the years go racing by, we miss the friends we used to own.
The Penitent's Return
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
My father's house once more,
In its own moonlight beauty! yet around,
Something, amidst the dewy calm profound,
Broods, never marked before!
The Man Who Trod On Sleeping Grass
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
In a field by Cahirconlish
I stood on sleeping grass,
No cry I made to Heaven
From my dumb lips would pass.
The Stream.
© Robert Crawford
God but knows what path
This small stream must take,
Through what gleams and glooms
Which the years shall make.
The Jester In The Trench
© Leon Gellert
"That just reminds me of a yarn," he said;
And everybody turned to hear his tale.
The White Doe Of Rylstone, Or, The Fate Of The Nortons - Canto Fourth
© William Wordsworth
'Tis night: in silence looking down,
The Moon, from cloudless ether, sees
A Camp, and a beleaguered Town,
And Castle, like a stately crown
The Moon
© James Russell Lowell
So was my soul; but when 'twas full
Of unrest to o'erloading,
A voice of something beautiful
Whispered a dim foreboding,
And yet so soft, so sweet, so low,
It had not more of joy than woe;
The Revenge Of Rain-In-The-Face. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fifth)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In that desolate land and lone,
Where the Big Horn and Yellowstone
Roar down their mountain path,
By their fires the Sioux Chiefs
Muttered their woes and griefs
And the menace of their wrath.
The Loving Shepherdess
© Robinson Jeffers
She dreamed that a two-legged whiff of flame
Rose up from the house gable-peak crying, "Oh! Oh!"
And doubled in the middle and fled away on the wind
Like music above the bee-hives.
The Lily
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
VIEW us, white-robed lilies,
We whose beauty's rareness
Sleeps until the bridegroom sun
Woos our virgin fairness.
The Poet's Dead
© Mikhail Lermontov
He's slain - and taken by the grave
Like that unknown, but happy bard,
Victim of jealousy wild,
Of whom he sang with wondrous power,
Struck down, like him, by an unyielding hand.
