Poems begining by T
/ page 209 of 916 /The Prayer
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
"Many worlds have I made," said the Good God,
"But this is best of all,"
The Shepherd Lady
© Jean Ingelow
Who pipes upon the long green hill,
Where meadow grass is deep?
The white lamb bleats but followeth on-
Follow the clean white sheep.
The dear white lady in yon high tower,
She hearkeneth in her sleep.
The Coo Of The Cushat
© Ada Cambridge
Over the smooth lawns, broider'd with violets,
Over the hedges of snow-white thorn,
Over the billowy, pink apple-blossoms,
The musical coo of the cushat is borne.
To Santa Claus
© James Whitcomb Riley
Most tangible of all the gods that be,
O Santa Claus-- our own since Infancy!
As first we scampered to thee-- now, as then,
Take us as children to thy heart again.
To A Friend Studying German
© Charles Godfrey Leland
VILL'ST dou learn die Deutsche Sprache?
Denn set it on your card,
Dat all the nouns have shenders,
Und de shenders all are hard.
The Finding Of The Lyre
© James Russell Lowell
There lay upon the ocean's shore
What once a tortoise served to cover;
The Garden of Sin
© Robert Fuller Murray
I know the garden-close of sin,
The cloying fruits, the noxious flowers,
I long have roamed the walks and bowers,
Desiring what no man shall win:
The Fire
© Edith Nesbit
I was picking raspberries, my head was in the canes,
And he came behind and kissed me, and I smacked him for his pains.
To William H. Seward
© John Greenleaf Whittier
STATESMAN, I thank thee! and, if yet dissent
Mingles, reluctant, with my large content,
I cannot censure what was nobly meant.
But, while constrained to hold even Union less
Trinitie Sunday
© George Herbert
Lord, who hast formed me out of mud,
And hast redeemed me through thy bloud,
And sanctified me to do good;
The Sleepless Jesus
© George MacDonald
'Tis time to sleep, my little boy:
Why gaze thy bright eyes so?
The Hoosier
© Hew Ainslie
We lads that live up in the nobs,
Tho' our manners might yet bear a rubbing,
The Papal Benediction, From St. Peters
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Higher than ever lifted into space,
Rises the sove'ran dome,--
Into the Colonnade's immense embrace
Flows all the life of Rome;
To Sergei Esenin
© Vladimir Mayakovsky
You have passed, as they say, into worlds elsewhere.
Emptiness...
Fly, cutting your way into starry dubiety.
No advances, no pubs for you there.
The Return
© Tadeusz Ròzewicz
Suddenly the window will open
and Mother will call
it's time to come in
The Child's Grave
© Edmund Blunden
I came to the churchyard where pretty Joy lies
On a morning in April, a rare sunny day;
Such bloom rose around, and so many birds' cries
That I sang for delight as I followed the way.