Poems begining by T
/ page 155 of 916 /
The Wood-Path
© Margaret Widdemer
THE little wood-path wandered
Green and brown and gay
Up a hill and down a hill,
Through a dew-wet way.
The Shape Of The Fire
© Theodore Roethke
Whats this? A dish for fat lips.
Who says? A nameless stranger.
Is he a bird or a tree? Not everyone can tell.
The Benefit Of Trouble
© Edgar Albert Guest
IF LIFE were rosy and skies were blue
And never a cloud appeared,
If every heart that you loved proved true,
And never a friendship seared;
If there were no troubles to fret your soul,
You never would struggle to gain your goal.
The House Of Dust: Part 02: 01:
© Conrad Aiken
The round red sun heaves darkly out of the sea.
The walls and towers are warmed and gleam.
Sounds go drowsily up from streets and wharves.
The city stirs like one that is half in dream.
The Garland
© Matthew Prior
The pride of every grove I chose,
The violet sweet and lily fair,
The dappled pink and blushing rose,
To deck my charming Cloe's hair.
To an Old Grammar
© Martha M Simpson
Oh, mighty conjuror, you raise
The ghost of my lost youth -
The happy, golden-tinted days
When earth her treasure-trove displays,
And everything is truth.
Three Pictures Continued
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The first, a woman, nobly limbed and fair,
Standeth at sunset by a famed far sea.
Red are her lips as Love's own kisses were,
Yet speak they never though they smile on me.
To the Clerk of the Weather
© Jessie Pope
Dear Sir, we've had enough.
Do you forget, I think you do, perhaps,
Our temperate position on the maps?
Daily we mourn the collar's swift collapse,
The limp and wrinkled cuff.
The New Vestments
© Edward Lear
There lived an old man in the kingdom of Tess,
Who invented a purely original dress;
And when it was perfectly made and complete,
He opened the door, and walked into the street.
The Call
© Virna Sheard
Across the dusty, foot-worn street
Unblessed of flower or tree,
Faint and far-off--there ever sounds
The calling of the sea.
The Golden Yesterday
© Roderic Quinn
AFTER a spell of chill, grey weather,
(Green, O green, are the feet of Spring!)
The heaven is here of flower and feather,
Of wild red blossom and flashing wing.
The Progress Of Refinement. Part III.
© Henry James Pye
CONTENTS OF PART III. Introduction.Comparison of ancient and modern Manners. Peculiar softness of the latter.Humanity in War. Politeness.Enquiry into the causes.Purity of the Christian Religion.Abolition of Slavery in Europe. Remaining effects of Chivalry.The behaviour of Edward the Black Prince, after the battle of Poitiers, contrasted with a Roman Triumph.Tendency of firearms to abate the ferocity of war.Duelling.Society of Women.Consequent prevalence of Love in poetical compositions. Softness of the modern Drama.Shakespear admired, but not imitated.Sentimental Comedy.Novels. Diffusion of superficial knowledge.Prevalence of Gaming in every state of mankind.Peculiar effect of the universal influence of Cards on modern times.Luxury. Enquiry why it does not threaten Europe now, with the fatal consequences it brought on ancient Rome.Indolence, and Gluttony, checked by the free intercourse with women.Their dislike to effeminate men.The frequent wars among the European Nations keep up a martial spirit.Point of Honor.Hereditary Nobility.Peculiar situation of Britain.Effects of Commerce when carried to excess.Danger when money becomes the sole distinction. Address to Men of ancient and noble families. Address to the Ladies.The Decline of their influence, a sure fore-runner of selfish Luxury.Recapitulation and Conclusion.
The Last Envoy
© Edith Nesbit
THIS wind, that through the silent woodland blows,
O'er rippling corn and dreaming pastures goes
Straight to the garden where the heart of spring
Faints in the heart of summer's earliest rose.
To Robert Louis Stevenson
© Alfred Austin
I never saw you, never grasped your hand,
Nor wrote nor read lines absence loves to trace,
The Finest Fellowship
© Edgar Albert Guest
There may be finer pleasures than just tramping with your boy,
And better ways to spend a day; there may be sweeter joy;
There may be richer fellowship than that of son and dad,
But if there is, I know it not; it's one I've never had.
The Crooked Footpath
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
AH, here it is! the sliding rail
That marks the old remembered spot,--
The gap that struck our school-boy trail,--
The crooked path across the lot.
The Hermit At Outermost House
© Sylvia Plath
Sky and sea, horizon-hinged
Tablets of blank blue, couldn't,
Clapped shut, flatten this man out.
The Recantation: To The Same Lady
© Mary Barber
For give me, fair One, nor resent
The Lines to you I lately sent.
They seem, as if your Form you priz'd,
And ev'ry other Gift despis'd:
When a discerning Eye may find,
Your greatest Beauty's in your Mind.
The Dead
© Mathilde Blind
Vibrations infinite of life in death,
As a star's travelling light survives its star!
So may we hold our lives, that when we are
The fate of those who then will draw this breath,
They shall not drag us to their judgment bar,
And curse the heritage which we bequeath.
