Poems begining by T
/ page 2 of 916 /
The Recollection
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
NOW the last day of many days,
All beautiful and bright as thou,
The Moon
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil,
Out of her chamber, led by the insane
And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,
The mood arose up in the murky east, 5
A white and shapeless mass.
The Flight of Love
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
WHEN the lamp is shatter'd
The light in the dust lies dead¡ª
The Rose that Grew from Concrete
© Tupac Shakur
Did you hear about the rose that grew
from a crack in the concrete?
The Working Party
© Siegfried Sassoon
Three hours ago, he stumbled up the trench;
Now he will never walk that road again:
He must be carried back, a jolting lump
Beyond all needs of tenderness and care.
The Dreamers
© Siegfried Sassoon
I see them in foul dug-outs, gnawed by rats,
And in the ruined trenches, lashed with rain,
Dreaming of things they did with balls and bats,
And mocked by hopeless longing to regain
Bank-holidays, and picture shows, and spats,
And going to the office in the train.
Through These Pale Cold Days
© Isaac Rosenberg
Through these pale cold days
What dark faces burn
Out of three thousand years,
And their wild eyes yearn,
The Jew
© Isaac Rosenberg
Moses, from whose loins I sprung,
Lit by a lamp in his blood
Ten immutable rules, a moon
For mutable lampless men.
The Second Elegy
© Rainer Maria Rilke
If only we too could discover a pure contained
human place our own strip of fruit-bearing soil
between river and rock. For our own heart always exceeds us
as theirs did. And we can no longer follow it gazing
into images that soothe it into the godlike bodies
where measured more greatly if achieves a greater repose.
The Grownup
© Rainer Maria Rilke
All this stood upon her and was the world
and stood upon her with all its fear and grace
as trees stand, growing straight up, imageless
yet wholly image, like the Ark of God,
and solemn, as if imposed upon a race.
The Gazelle
© Rainer Maria Rilke
Enchanted thing: how can two chosen words
ever attain the harmony of pure rhyme
that pulses through you as your body stirs?
Out of your forehead branch and lyre climb
The One in Paradise
© Edgar Allan Poe
THOU wast that all to me love
For which my soul did pine --
A green isle in the sea love
A fountain and a shrine
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers
And all the flowers were mine.
The Four Seasons
© Obi Nwakanma
The forest hugs them
carves them into stones,
Etches them into the slow
eastern landscape: rivers, hills
the slow running water,
times broken inscapes…
The Earthly Paradise: Apology
© William Morris
Of Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing,
I cannot ease the burden of your fears,
