Poems begining by T
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The Discovery
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
THESE are the days of elfs and fays:
Who says that with the dreams of myth,
The Testimonial
© Sukanta Bhattacharya
The news came
From the child who was born today.
She has got the testimonial,
And therefore she proclaims her rights to the new
unknown world
With piercing cries.
To Shakespeare
© Lord Alfred Douglas
For now thy praises have become too loud
On vulgar lips, and every yelping cur
Yaps thee a paean ; the whiles little men,
Not tall enough to worship in a crowd,
Spit their small wits at thee. Ah ! better then
The broken shrine, the lonely worshipper.
The Vow Of Washington
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The sword was sheathed: in April's sun
Lay green the fields by Freedom won;
And severed sections, weary of debates,
Joined hands at last and were United States.
The Question
© Rudyard Kipling
Brethren, how shall it fare with me
When the war is laid aside,
If it be proven that I am he
For whom a world has died?
To a Skylark
© William Wordsworth
Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!
Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?
The Poet And The Muse
© Alfred Austin
Whither, and whence, and why hast fled?
Thou art dumb, my muse; thou art dumb, thou art dead,
As a waterless stream, as a leafless tree.
What have I done to banish thee?
The Bonnie House O' Airly
© Andrew Lang
It fell on a day, and a bonnie summer day,
When the corn grew green and yellow,
That there fell out a great dispute
Between Argyle and Airly.
To The Lord Chancellor
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Thy country's curse is on thee, darkest crest
Of that foul, knotted, many-headed worm
Which rends our Mothers bosomPriestly Pest!
Masked Resurrection of a buried Form!
The Queen Of Hearts
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
How comes it, Flora, that, whenever we
Play cards together, you invariably,
However the pack parts,
Still hold the Queen of Hearts?
The Accounte Of W. Canynges Feast
© Thomas Chatterton
THOROWE the halle the belle han sounde;
Byelecoyle doe the Grave beseeme;
The Companionable Ills
© Sylvia Plath
The nose-end that twitches, the old imperfections--
Tolerable now as moles on the face
Put up with until chagrin gives place
To a wry complaisance--
The Dirge
© John Le Gay Brereton
Out of the pregnant darkness, where from fire
To glimmering fire the watchword leaps,
The dirge floats up from those who build the pyre
High and still higher
That yet shall blaze across the verminous deeps.
The Vision
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
"O SISTER, sister, from the casement leaning,
What sees thy tranced eye, what is the meaning
Of the strange rapture that thy features know?"
"I see," she said, "the sunset's crimson glow."
The Spirits of Our Fathers
© Henry Lawson
THE SPIRITS of our fathers rise not from every wave,
They left the sea behind them long ago;
It was many years of slogging, where strong men must be brave,
For the sake of unborn children, and, maybe, a soul to save,
And the end a tidy homestead, and four panels round a grave,
Andthe bones of poor old Someone down below.
To The Irish Delegates
© Henry Lawson
FAREWELL! The gold we send shall be a token
Of that which in our hearts is growing strong;
You asked our sympathy, and we have spoken
They wrong us who our brothers rob and wrong.
The Defeat of Youth
© Aldous Huxley
I. UNDER THE TREES.
There had been phantoms, pale-remembered shapes
The Braggart
© Rudyard Kipling
Petrolio, vaunting his Mercedes' power,
Vows she can cover eighty miles an hour.
I tried the car of old and know she can.
But dare he ever make her? Ask his man!
