Poems begining by T
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To Kasbek
© Mikhail Lermontov
With winged footsteps now I hasten
Unto the far cold North away,
Kasbek,--thou watchman of the East,
To thee, my farewell greetings say!
True Love
© Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
Farewell, Earl Richard,
Tender and brave;
Kneeling I kiss
The dust from thy grave.
The Turn O The Days
© William Barnes
O the wings o' the rook wer a-glitterèn bright,
As he wheel'd on above, in the zun's evenèn light,
The Waiting Head
© Anne Sexton
If I really am walking with ordinary habit
past the same rest home on the same local street
Thoughts on Imputed Righteousness - Occasioned by Reading Theron and Aspasio : Part II.
© John Byrom
To shun much novel sentiment and nice,
I take the thing from its apparent rise;
The Tear-drop
© Robert Burns
Wae is my heart, and the tear's in my e'e;
Lang lang Joy's been a stranger to me:
Forsaken and friendless, my burden I bear,
And the sweet voice o' Pity ne'er sounds in my ear.
The Shakespeare Memorial
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Lord Lilac thought it rather rotten
That Shakespeare should be quite forgotten,
To A Friend
© Joseph Rodman Drake
YES, faint was my applause and cold my praise,
Though soul was glowing in each polished line;
The Necessity Of SelfAbasement
© William Cowper
Source of love, my brighter sun,
Thou alone my comfort art;
See, my race is almost run;
Hast thou left this trembling heart?
The Auctor
© Stephen Hawes
Go lytell treatyse deuoyde of eloquence
Tremblynge for drede to approche the maieste
Of our souerayne lorde surmountynge in excellence
But vnder the wynge of his benygnyte
Tu mettrais l'univers entier dans ta ruelle (You Would Take The Whole World To Bed With You)
© Charles Baudelaire
Tu mettrais l'univers entier dans ta ruelle,
Femme impure! L'ennui rend ton âme cruelle.
Pour exercer tes dents à ce jeu singulier,
Il te faut chaque jour un coeur au râtelier.
The Mountain Of The Lovers
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I.
LOVE scorns degrees! the low he lifteth high,
The high he draweth down to that fair plain
Whereon, in his divine equality,
The Blue Bird
© Madison Julius Cawein
From morn till noon upon the window-pane
The tempest tapped with rainy finger-nails,
To Lothario
© Amelia Opie
Think not, Lothario, while I view
The bright expression of thy face,
And on thy cheek of crimson hue
Emotion's varying beauties trace,
The Name
© Caroline Norton
THY name was once the magic spell, by which my thoughts were bound,
And burning dreams of light and love were wakened by that sound;
My heart beat quick when stranger tongues, with idle praise or blame,
Awoke its deepest thrill of life, to tremble at that name.
The Old-Fashioned Cooks
© Edgar Albert Guest
Poets have sung of the old-fashioned glories
The old-fashioned pictures that hung on the wall,
The Woods Of The West
© Herbert Bashford
Oh, woods of the west, leafy woods that I love.
Where through the long days I have heard
'The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 6
© Publius Vergilius Maro
HE said, and wept; then spread his sails before
The winds, and reachd at length the Cumæan shore:
To A Lady, Who Invited The Author Into The Country.
© Mary Barber
I grieve your Brother has the Gout;
Tho' he's so stoically stout,
I've heard him mourn his Loss of Pain,
And wish it in his Feet again.
What Woe poor Mortals must endure,
When Anguish is their only Cure!
