Poems begining by T
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The Newcomer's Wife
© Thomas Hardy
He paused on the sill of a door ajar
That screened a lively liquor-bar,
For the name had reached him through the door
Of her he had married the week before.
The Nativity of Christ
© Robert Southwell
Behold the father is his daughter's son,
The bird that built the nest is hatched therein,
The old of years an hour hath not outrun,
Eternal life to live doth now begin,
The Word is dumb, the mirth of heaven doth weep,
Might feeble is, and force doth faintly creep.
The Negro's Complaint
© William Cowper
Forc'd from home and all its pleasures,
Afric's coast I left forlorn;
To Harriet St. Leger
© Frances Anne Kemble
I would I might be with thee, when the year
Begins to wane, and that thou walk'st alone
The Pleasures Of Love
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
I do not care for kisses. "Tis a debt
We paid for the first privilege of love.
These are the rains of April which have wet
Our fallow hearts and forced their germs to move.
Thebais - Book One - part II
© Pablius Papinius Statius
A robe obscene was oer her shoulders thrown,
A dress by fates and furies worn alone. us
The Spirit Of Navigation
© William Lisle Bowles
Stern Father of the storm! who dost abide
Amid the solitude of the vast deep,
The Day Of Days
© William Morris
Each eve earth falleth down the dark,
As though its hope were oer;
Yet lurks the sun when day is done
Behind to-morrows door.
To Lynette.
© Robert Crawford
God knows that I love you, I love you, and yet
He knows, too, I'm weary, Lynette, O Lynette!
He gave me the love-feeling, the tired feeling, too;
Will He take them together, and part me from you?
Then, Most, I Smile
© Victor Marie Hugo
Late it is to look so proud,
Daisy queen! come is the gloom
Of the winter-burdened cloud!--
"But, in winter, most I bloom!"
The Mother Watch
© Edgar Albert Guest
She never closed her eyes in sleep till we were all in bed;
On party nights till we came home she often sat and read.
We little thought about it then, when we were young and gay,
How much the mother worried when we children were away.
We only knew she never slept when we were out at night,
And that she waited just to know that we'd come home all right.
To Play Pianissimo by Lola Haskins: American Life in Poetry #43 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-
© Ted Kooser
Lola Haskins, who lives in Florida, has written a number of poems about musical terms, entitled "Adagio," "Allegrissimo," "Staccato," and so on. Here is just one of those, presenting the gentleness of pianissimo playing through a series of comparisons
To Play Pianissimo
Does not mean silence.
The absence of moon in the day sky
for example.
The Giant Cactus Of Arizona
© Harriet Monroe
The cactus in the desert stands
Like time's inviolate sentinel,
Watching the sun-washed waste of sands
Lest they their ancient secrets tell.
And the lost lore of mournful lands
It knows alone and guards too well.
To A Canadian Lad Killed In The War
© Duncan Campbell Scott
Let us bring pungent wreaths of balsam, and tender
Tendrils of wild-flowers, lovelier for thy daring,
And deck a sylvan shrine, where the maple parts
The moonlight, with lilac bloom, and the splendour
Of suns unwearied; all unwithered, wearing
Thy valor stainless in our heart of hearts.
The Author to the Reader
© Francis Beaumont
I sing the fortune of a luckless pair,
Whose spotless souls now in one body be;
The Messenger Rose
© Henry Timrod
If you have seen a richer glow,
Pray, tell me where your roses blow!
