Poems begining by T

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To ---, Five Years Old

© Richard Monckton Milnes

Delighted soul! that in thy new abode
Dwellest contentedly and knowest not
What men can mean who faint beneath the load
Of mortal life and mourn an earthly lot;

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The Lily of St Leonards

© Henry Lawson

  O Lily of St Leonards!
  And I was mad to roam—
  She died with loving words for me
  Three days ere I came home.

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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. Interlude I.

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Landlord ended thus his tale,

Then rising took down from its nail

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To Her Portrait

© Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz

'Tis but vain artifice of scheming minds;
'Tis but a flower fading on the winds;
  'Tis but a useless protest against Fate;
'Tis but stupidity without a thought,
  A lifeless shadow, if we meditate;
'Tis death, tis dust, tis shadow, yea, 'tis nought.

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The Hand of Glory: The Nurse's Story

© Richard Harris Barham

And now before
That old Woman's door,
Where nought that 's good may be,
Hand in hand
The Murderers stand
By one, by two, by three!

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To Mr. Dryden

© Joseph Addison

How long, great Poet, shall thy sacred lays

Provoke our wonder, and transcend our praise?

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The Fox Hunt

© William Henry Drummond

I'm all bus' up, for a mont' or two,

  On account of de wife I got,

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The Solitary

© Robert Fuller Murray

I have been lonely all my days on earth,
Living a life within my secret soul,
With mine own springs of sorrow and of mirth,
Beyond the world's control.

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The Swallow

© William Cowper

I am fond of the swallow--I learn from her flight,
Had I skill to improve it, a lesson of love:
How seldom on earth do we see her alight!
She dwells in the skies, she is ever above.

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The Leveller

© Robert Graves

Near Martinpuich that night of hell
Two men were struck by the same shell,
Together tumbling in one heap
Senseless and limp like slaughtered sheep.

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The Man Who's Down

© Edgar Albert Guest

IT is well enough to cheer for the brother who is up,
It is fine to praise the brother who has captured victory's cup;
But don't keep your kind words always for the man who's won renown,
For the boy who really needs them is the fellow who is down.

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The Sense Of Beauty

© Caroline Norton

Lo! at his pencil's touch steals faintly forth
(Like an uprising star in the cold north)
Some face which soon shall glow with beauty's fire:
Dim seems the sketch to those who stand around,
Dim and uncertain as an echoed sound,
But oh! how bright to him, whose hand thou dost inspire!

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Tweil

© William Barnes

The rick ov our last zummer's haulèn

  Now vrom grey's a-feäded dark,

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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LVI

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

TO ONE WHOM HE DARED NOT LOVE
As one who, in a desert wandering
Alone and faint beneath a pitiless sky,
And doubting in his heart if he shall bring

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The Speeding Of The King's Spite

© James Whitcomb Riley

A king--estranged from his loving Queen

  By a foolish royal whim--

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The Heart: Two Sonnets

© Francis Thompson

  I

The heart you hold too small and local thing,

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The Shipwreck

© Harry Kemp

Men stood like dolls about the seething deck;

White as the foam their faces shone, whose fleck

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The Emperor's Dream

© Zbigniew Herbert

A crevice! shouts the Emperor in his sleep, and the canopy of ostrich plumes trembles. The soldiers who pace the corridors with unsheathed swords believe the Emperor dreams about a siege. Just now he saw a fissure in the wall and wants them to break into the fortress.
  In fact the Emperor is now a wood-louse who scurries across the floor, seeking remnants of food. Suddenly he sees overhead an immense foot about to crush him. The Emperor hunts for a crevice in which to squeeze. The floor is smooth and slippery.
  Yes. Nothing is more ordinary than the dreams of Emperors.

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The Burden Bearer

© Edgar Albert Guest

Oh, there's selfishness within me, there are times it gets to talkin',
Times I hear it whisper to me, "It's a dusty road you're walkin';
Why not rest your feet a little; why not pause an' take your leisure?
Don't you hunger in your strivin' for the merry whirl of pleasure?"
Then I turn an' see them smilin' an' I grip my burdens tighter,
For the joy that I am seekin' is to see their eyes grow brighter.

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The Open Secret

© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore

The Heavens repeat no other Song,

  And, plainly or in parable,