Poems begining by T
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The Virtuous Manners Of The Young Women
© Confucius
High and compressed, the Southern trees
No shelter from the sun afford.
The Morning Lark
© James Thomson
Feather'd lyric, warbling high,
Sweetly gaining on the sky,
Op'ning with thy matin lay
(Nature's hymn) the eye of day,
The Fisher Child's Lullaby
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
THE wind is out in its rage to-night,
And your father is far at sea.
The River's Tale
© Rudyard Kipling
Twenty bridges from Tower to Kew-
(Twenty bridges or twenty-two)-
Wanted to know what the River knew,
For they were young, and the Thames was old
And this is the tale that River told:-
The Mad Lover
© Washington Allston
Stay, gentle Stranger, softly tread!
Oh, trouble not this hallow'd heap.
Vile Envy says my Julia's dead;
But Envy thus Will never sleep.
To Memory
© Mathilde Blind
Bring but one pansy: haply so the thrill
Of poignant yearning for those glad dead years
May, like the gusty south, breathe o'er the chill
Of frozen grief, dissolving it in tears,
Till numb Hope, stirred by that warm dropping rain,
Will deem, perchance, Love's springtide come again.
The Three Drinkers
© Robert Graves
Blacksmith Green had three strong sons,
With bread and beef did fill 'em,
Now John and Ned are perished and dead,
But plenty remains of William.
The Burial
© Thomas Osborne Davis
"_Ululu! ululu!_ high on the wind,
There's a home for the slave where no fetters can bind.
Woe, woe to his slayers!"--comes wildly along,
With the trampling of feet and the funeral song.
The Searchlights
© Alfred Noyes
Shadow by shadow, stripped for fight,
The lean black cruisers search the sea.
Night-long their level shafts of light
Revolve,and find no enemy.
Only they know each leaping wave
May hide the lightning, and their grave.
The One Forgotten
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
A spirit speeding down on All Souls' Eve
From the wide gates of that mysterious shore
The Fellowship Of Genius
© Frances Anne Kemble
O hearts of flesh! O beating hearts of love!
O twining hands of human dear desire!
The House Of Dust: Part 02: 04:
© Conrad Aiken
I sit before the gold-embroidered curtain
And think her face is like a wrinkled desert.
The crystal burns in lamplight beneath my eyes.
A dragon slowly coils on the scaly curtain.
Upon a scarlet cloth a white skull lies.
The House Of Dust: Part 02: 10:
© Conrad Aiken
'Number fourthe girl who died on the table
The girl with golden hair'
The purpling body lies on the polished marble.
We open the throat, and lay the thyroid bare . . .
To Dr. Richard Helsham Upon My Recovery From A Dangerous Fit Of Sickness.
© Mary Barber
For fleeting Life recall'd, for Health restor'd,
Be first the God of Life and Health ador'd;
Whose boundless Mercy claims this Tribute due:
And next to Heav'n, I owe my Thanks to you;
The Town Of Nothing-To-Do
© Edgar Albert Guest
THEY say somewhere in the distance fair,
Is the town of Nothing-to-Do,
The Broomfield Hill
© Andrew Lang
There was a knight and lady bright
Set trysts amo the broom,
The one to come at morning eav,
The other at afternoon.
To The Pure All Things Are Pure
© Jones Very
The flowers I pass have eyes that look at me,
The birds have ears that hear my spirit's voice,
