Poems begining by T

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The Long Road West

© Henry Herbert Knibbs

Once I heard a Hobo, singing by the tie-trail,

Squatting by the red rail rusty with the dew:

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The Overlander

© William Henry Ogilvie

I knew them on the road : red, roan, and white,
  Cock-horned and spear-horned, spotted, streaked and starred;
I knew their shapes moon-misted in the night
  As I rode round them keeping lonely guard.
I knew them all, the laggards and the leaders,
The wild, the wandering, and the listless feeders.

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The Duet

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

I was smoking a cigarette;

Maud, my wife, and the tenor, McKey,

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The Street

© James Russell Lowell

They pass me by like shadows, crowds on crowds,

Dim ghosts of men that hover to and fro,

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The Spirit Of Prayer

© John Bunyan

Wouldst thou have that good, that blessed mind,

That is so much to heavenly things inclin'd

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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Musician's Tale; The Saga of King Olaf I. -- The Challenge Of T

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I am the God Thor,
I am the War God,
I am the Thunderer!
Here in my Northland,
My fastness and fortress,
Reign I forever!

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To a Child

© Judith Wright

When I was a child I saw
a burning bird in a tree.
I see became I am,
I am became I see.

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To My Country

© Katharine Lee Bates

O dear my Country, beautiful and dear,


Love cloth not darken sight.

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The Sweet Murmuring of the Woods

© Theocritus

Sweet is the music, O goat-herd,
Of yon whispering pine to the fountains,
And sweetly, too, is thine, breathed from thy pipe.

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The Battling Days

© Henry Lawson

But the wild oats wave on their stormy path, and they speak of the hearts of men—
I would sow a crop if I had my time in those hard old days again.
We travel first, or we go saloon—on the planned-out trips we go,
With those who are neither rich nor poor, and we find that the life is slow;

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The Rock-Tomb Of Bradore

© John Greenleaf Whittier

A DREAR and desolate shore!

Where no tree unfolds its leaves,

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The Sacrament

© Albert Durrant Watson

THE World was builded out of flame and storm.

The oak, blast-beaten on the hills, stands forth,

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There'll be no one in the house...

© Boris Pasternak

There'll be no one in the house
Save for twilight. All alone,
Winter's day seen in the space that's
Made by curtains left undrawn.

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The Branded Hand

© John Greenleaf Whittier

WELCOME home again, brave seaman! with thy thoughtful brow and gray,
And the old heroic spirit of our earlier, better day;
With that front of calm endurance, on whose steady nerve in vain
Pressed the iron of the prison, smote the fiery shafts of pain!

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The Young Knight: A Parable

© Charles Kingsley

A gay young knight in Burley stood,
Beside him pawed his steed so good,
His hands he wrung as he were wood
With waiting for his love O!

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The Horses Of Achilles

© George Meredith

[Iliad, B. XVII. V. 426]

So now the horses of Aiakides, off wide of the war-ground,

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The Lone Red Rock

© Henry Herbert Knibbs

A song of the range, an old-time song,

To the patter of pony's feet,

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To My Eldest Brother, With The British Army In Portugal

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Does memory's pencil oft, in mellowing hue,
Dear social scenes, departed joys renew;
In softer tints delighting to retrace,
Each tender image and each well-known face?
Yes! wanderer, yes! thy spirit flies to those,
Whose love unalter'd, warm and faithful glows!

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Theory And Practice.

© Robert Crawford

He has ta'en on a theory, and into it
Striven to work his life — a false affair;
For every thought and feeling cannot be,
Like a mosaic, cut and trimmed to suit
Any particular design, however
Grand or beautiful.

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The Faun

© John Le Gay Brereton

  When I was but a little boy
  Who hunted in the wood
  To scare or mangle or destroy
  A freakish elemental joy
  That tasted life and found it good