Poems begining by T
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The Blessing
© Charles Baudelaire
Since I must be chosen among all women that are
To bear the lifetime's grudge of a sullen husband,
And since I cannot get rid of this caricature,
-Fling it away like old letters to be burned,
The Fens
© John Clare
Among the tawny tasselled reed
The ducks and ducklings float and feed.
With head oft dabbing in the flood
They fish all day the weedy mud,
And tumbler-like are bobbing there,
Heels topsy turvy in the air.
The March Of Mortality
© Edgar Albert Guest
Over the hills of time to the valley of endless years;
Over the roads of woe to the land that is free from tears
Up from the haunts of men to the place where the angels are,
This is the march of mortality to a wonderful goal afar.
The Ritualist
© Francis Bret Harte
He wore, I think, a chasuble, the day when first we met;
A stole and snowy alb likewise,--I recollect it yet.
He called me "daughter," as he raised his jeweled hand to bless;
And then, in thrilling undertones, he asked, "Would I confess?"
The Price
© Arthur Symons
Pity all faithless women who have loved. None knows
How much it hurts a woman to do wrong to love.
The mother who has felt the child within her move,
Shall she forget her child, and those ecstatic throes?
To John C. Freemont
© John Greenleaf Whittier
THY error, Frémont, simply was to act
A brave man's part, without the statesman's tact,
The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto XI.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
II
This learn'd I, watching where she danced,
Native to melody and light,
And now and then toward me glanced,
Pleased, as I hoped, to please my sight.
The Perfect Sacrifice
© William Cowper
I place an offering at thy shrine,
From taint and blemish clear,
Simple and pure in its design,
Of all that I hold dear.
To Death
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Tremble, ye proud, whose grandeur mocks the woe
Which props the column of unnatural state!
You the plainings, faint and low,
From Miserys tortured soul that flow,
Shall usher to your fate.
The Buckskin Bag of Gold
© Henry Clay Work
Last night I met him on the train-
A man with lovely eyes;
The Awakening
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
FROM day to day the dreary heaven
Outpoured its hopeless heart in rain;
The conscious pines, half shuddering, heard
The secret of the East wind's pain.
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 06:
© Conrad Aiken
Here is the roomwith ghostly walls dissolving
The twilight room in which she called you 'lover';
And the floorless room in which she called you 'friend.'
So many times, in doubt, she ran between them!
Through windy corridors of darkening end.
The Man Who Couldn't Save
© Edgar Albert Guest
He spent what he made, or he gave it away,
Tried to save money, and would for a day,
The Farmer Of Tilsbury Vale
© William Wordsworth
'TIS not for the unfeeling, the falsely refined,
The squeamish in taste, and the narrow of mind,
And the small critic wielding his delicate pen,
That I sing of old Adam, the pride of old men.
To A Brown Girl
© Countee Cullen
What if his glance is bold and free,
His mouth the lash of whips?
So should the eyes of lovers be
And so a lovers lips.
The Silent Dead
© Lesbia Harford
There's a little boy who lives next door
With hair like you,
Pale, pale hair and a rose-white skin
And his eyes are blue.
The Voice
© Charles Baudelaire
I was the height of a folio, my bed just
backed on the bookcases sombre Babel,
everything, Latin ashes, Greek dust
jumbled together: novel, science, fable.
To Chloe Weeping
© Matthew Prior
See, whilst Thou weep'st, fair Cloe, see
The World in Sympathy with Thee.
The Skeleton In Armour
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
"Speak! speak! thou fearful guest!
Who, with thy hollow breast
