Poems begining by T
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The Hunt (Sikar)
© Jibanananda Das
To warm their bodies through the cold night, up-country menials kept
a fire going
In the field-red fire like a cockscomb blossom,
Still burning, contorting dry aswattha leaves.
To a Lady, with Some Coloured Patterns of Flowers
© William Shenstone
Madam,-
Though rude the draughts, though artless seem the lines,
To A Wind-Flower
© Madison Julius Cawein
Teach me the secret of thy loveliness,
That, being made wise, I may aspire to be
As beautiful in thought, and so express
Immortal truths to earth's mortality;
Though to my soul ability be less
Than 'tis to thee, O sweet anemone.
Thalia
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
I say it under the rose-
oh, thanks! -yes, under the laurel,
We part lovers, not foes;
we are not going to quarrel.
Time and Again
© Rainer Maria Rilke
TIme and again, however well we know the landscape of love,
and the little church-yard with lamenting names,
and the frightfully silent ravine wherein all the others
end: time and again we go out two together,
under the old trees, lie down again and again
between the flowers, face to face with the sky.
The Almighty Conqueror.
© Mather Byles
I.
Awake my Heart, awake my Tongue,
Sound each melodious String;
In num'rous Verse and lofty Song,
To thee, my GOD, I sing.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. The Spanish Jew's Tale; Azrael
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
King Solomon, before his palace gate
At evening, on the pavement tessellate
The Garden
© Margaret Widdemer
THERE were many flowers in my mother's garden,
Sword-leaved gladiolus, taller far than I,
Sticky-leaved petunias, pink and purple-flaring,
Velvet-painted pansies staring at the sky;
Trivia; or the Art of Walking the Streets of London: Book I.
© John Gay
Of the Implements for Walking the Streets,
and Signs of the Weather.
The Wife-Blessed
© James Whitcomb Riley
In youth he wrought, with eyes ablur,
Lorn-faced and long of hair--
In youth--in youth he painted her
A sister of the air--
Could clasp her not, but felt the stir
Of pinions everywhere.
The Wreck
© Harry Kemp
Seared bone-white by the glare of summer weather,
Cast side-long, on the barren beach she lies,
She who once brought the earth's far ends together
And ransacked East and West for merchandise.
The Captive Knight
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
"I am here, with my heavy chain!
And I look on a torrent sweeping by,
And an eagle rushing to the sky,
And a host, to its battle-plain!
Cease awhile, clarion! Clarion, wild and shrill,
Cease! let them hear the captive's voiceâbe still!
The Singer
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Years since (but names to me before),
Two sisters sought at eve my door;
Two song-birds wandering from their nest,
A gray old farm-house in the West.
The cricket sang,
© Emily Dickinson
The cricket sang,
And set the sun,
And workmen finished, one by one,
Their seam the day upon.
To One Away
© Sara Teasdale
I heard a cry in the night,
A thousand miles it came,
Sharp as a flash of light,
My name, my name!
The Little Hurts
© Edgar Albert Guest
Every night she runs to me
With a bandaged arm or a bandaged knee,
A stone-bruised heel or a swollen brow,
And in sorrowful tones she tells me how
She fell and "hurted herse'f to-day"
While she was having the "bestest play."
The Old Flute
© Henry Van Dyke
The time will come when I no more can play
This polished flute: the stops will not obey
The Donkey In The Cart To The Horse In The Carriage
© George MacDonald
I say! hey! cousin there! I mustn't call you brother!
Yet you have a tail behind, and I have another!
You pull, and I pull, though we don't pull together:
You have less hardship, and I have more weather!
