Poems begining by T
/ page 185 of 916 /
The Ways Are Green
© William Ernest Henley
The ways are green with the gladdening sheen
Of the young year's fairest daughter.
The Dying Seneca
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
HE died not as the martyr dies,
Wrapped in his living shroud of flame;
He fell not as the warrior falls,
Gasping upon the field of fame;
A gentler passage to the grave,
The murderer's softened fury gave.
There Will Always Be Something To Do
© Edgar Albert Guest
There will always be something to do, my boy;
There will always be wrongs to right;
The Gardener LVII: I Plucked Your Flower
© Rabindranath Tagore
I plucked your flower, O world!
I pressed it to my heart and the
The Pigs and the Charcoal-burner
© Walter de la Mare
The old Pig said to the little pigs,
'In the forest is truffles and mast,
Follow me then, all ye little pigs,
Follow me fast!'
The Emperors Return
© Victor Marie Hugo
_The EMPEROR FREDERICK BARBAROSSA, believed to be dead, appearing
as a beggar among the Rhenish nobility at a castle, suddenly reveals
himself._
The Flying Dutchman
© James Russell Lowell
Don't believe in the Flying Dutchman?
I've known the fellow for years;
My button I've wrenched from his clutch, man:
I shudder whenever he nears!
The Princess And The Page
© Harriet Monroe
There is a legendyou have read it
Of a fair page whom evil spells
Held in deep sleep; and men of credit
Tried all in vain, the story tells,
Week after week, by night and noon,
To wake him from his sombre swoon.
The Hours
© Arthur Symons
Why is it that the hour of the clock
Points to the hour behind, before,
Never the perfect hour whose stroke
My soul heard strike, and waited for?
The Candidate's Creed
© James Russell Lowell
I du believe in Freedom's cause,
Ez fur away ez Paris is;
To The Queen Of My Heart
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Shall we roam, my love,
To the twilight grove,
When the moon is rising bright;
The Hillmans Lass
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
OVER the field where the grass is cool,
(Follow the road who must !)
The Poor Ghost
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
'Oh whence do you come, my dear friend, to me,
With your golden hair all fallen below your knee,
And your face as white as snowdrops on the lea,
And your voice as hollow as the hollow sea?'
The Lady of the Motor Car
© Henry Lawson
The Lady of the Motor-car her very soul is dead,
Because she never helped herself nor had to work for bread;
The Lady of the Motor-car sits in her sitting-room,
Her stony face has never changed though all the land is gloom.
The Congressmen Came Out To See Bull Run
© Stephen Vincent Benet
The congressmen came out to see Bull Run,
The congressmen who like free shows and spectacles.
The World In The Heart
© Jane Taylor
The charms of mental converse some may fear,
Who scruple not to lend a ready ear
To kitchen tales, of scandal, strife, and love,
Which make the maid and mistress hand and glove ;
And ever deem the sin and danger less,
Merely for being in a vulgar dress.
