Poems begining by T

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To The Memory Of Charles B. Storrs

© John Greenleaf Whittier

Thou hast fallen in thine armor,

Thou martyr of the Lord

The Garden

© Lola Ridge

Bountiful Givers,

I look along the years

The Poems Gift

© Stéphane Mallarme

I bring you the child of an Idumean night!

Black, with pale naked bleeding wings, light

HATH not the dark stream closed above thy head,
With envy of thy light, thou shining one?
Hast thou not, murmuring, made thy dreamless bed
Where blooms the asphodel, far from all sun?
But thouthou dost obtain oblivious ease,
While here we rock and moanthy funeral trees.

The End Of The Century

© Madison Julius Cawein

There are moments when, as missions,
God reveals to us strange visions;
When, within their separate stations,
We may see the Centuries,
Like revolving constellations
Shaping out Earth's destinies.

The Weary One

© Pablo Neruda

The weary one, orphan

of the masses, the self,

The Stranded Ship: (The Vincennes)

© Henry Lawson

TWAS the glowing log of a picnic fire where a red light should not be,
Or the curtained glow of a sick room light in a window that faced the sea.
But the Manly lights seemed the Sydney lights, and the bluffs as the Heads were seen;
And the Manly beach was the channel thenand the captain steered between.

The Haunted Chamber. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Third)

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Each heart has its haunted chamber,
Where the silent moonlight falls!
On the floor are mysterious footsteps,
There are whispers along the walls!

The Herder's Reverie

© Arthur Chapman

The sheep are down at the water, a-drinkin' their bloomin' fill,
An' me and the dog are dozin', as herders and collies will;
The world may be movin' somewheres, but here it is standin' still.

The Cock And The Bull

© Charles Stuart Calverley

Now Law steps in, bigwiggd, voluminous-jawd;
Investigates and re-investigates.
Was the transaction illegal? Law shakes head.
Perpend, sir, all the bearings of the case.

The Poplars

If theäse day's work an' burnèn sky

'V'a-zent hwome you so tired as I,

The Wife Of All Ages

© Edith Nesbit

I DO not catch these subtle shades of feeling,
Your fine distinctions are too fine for me;
This meeting, scheming, longing, trembling, dreaming,
To me mean love, and only love, you see;
In me at least 'tis love, you will admit,
And you the only man who wakens it.

Then And Now

A little time agone, a few brief years,
And there was peace within our beauteous borders;
Peace, and a prosperous people, and no fears
Of war and its disorders.
Pleasure was ruling goddess of our land; with her attendant Mirth
She led a jubilant, joy-seeking band about the riant earth.