Poems begining by T

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The Truce of God

© Katharine Tynan

Now to the stricken doe
  And the wounded hind
There comes the Mercy of God
  That is cool and kind.

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"To fall ill as one should, deliriously"

© Anna Akhmatova

To fall ill as one should, deliriously
Hot, meet everyone again,
To stroll broad avenues in the seashore garden
Full of the wind and the sun.

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To Italy (1818)

© Giacomo Leopardi

My country, I the walls, the arches see,

  The columns, statues, and the towers

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The Grasshopper

© Madison Julius Cawein

What joy you take in making hotness hotter,

  In emphasizing dullness with your buzz,

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Too Late

© John Hay

Had we but met in other days,
Had we but loved in other ways,
Another light and hope had shone
  On your life and my own.

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The Beloved

© Paul Eluard

She is standing on my eyelids
And her hair is wound in mine,
She has the form of my hands,
She has the colour of my eyes,

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The Dying Chauffeur

© Rudyard Kipling

Wheel me gently to the garage, since my car and I must part-
  No more for me the records and the run.
That cursed left-hand cylinder the doctors call my heart
  Is pinking past redemption - I am done!

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"Too oft the poet in elaborate verse"

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

Too oft the poet in elaborate verse,

Flushed with quaint images and gorgeous tropes,

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To Sensibility

© Helen Maria Williams

In SENSIBILITY'S lov'd praise
 I tune my trembling reed,
And seek to deck her shrine with bays,
 On which my heart must bleed!

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The Voyage To Vinland: Bioern's Beckoners

© James Russell Lowell

  Looms there the New Land;
  Locked in the shadow
  Long the gods shut it,
  Niggards of newness
  They, the o'er-old.

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The Stage-Driver's Story

© Francis Bret Harte

It was the stage-driver's story, as he stood with his back to the
  wheelers,
Quietly flecking his whip, and turning his quid of tobacco;
While on the dusty road, and blent with the rays of the moonlight,
We saw the long curl of his lash and the juice of tobacco descending.

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The Poor Man's Pig

© Edmund Blunden

  Then out he lets her run; away she snorts
  In bundling gallop for the cottage door,
  With hungry hubbub begging crusts and orts,
  Then like the whirlwind bumping round once more;
  Nuzzling the dog, making the pullets run,
  And sulky as a child when her play's done.

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The Young Greek Odalisque

© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

’Mid silken cushions, richly wrought, a young Greek girl reclined,
And fairer form the harem’s walls had ne’er before enshrined;
’Mid all the young and lovely ones who round her clustered there,
With glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes, she shone supremely fair.

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The Night Cometh

© Aline Murray Kilmer

MY garden walks were smooth and green

And edged with box trees left and right,

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The Aesthete

© William Schwenck Gilbert

If you're anxious for to shine in the high aesthetic line, as a man

of culture rare,

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The Modest Jazz-Bird

© Vachel Lindsay

The Jazz-bird sings a barnyard song—
A cock-a-doodle bray,
A jingle-bells, a boiler works,
A he-man's roundelay.

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To My Father

© Salvatore Quasimodo

Where Messina lay

violet upon the waters, among the mangled wires

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To My Brother

© Hristo Botev

It's difficult to live, my brother,
among such thick-skulled blunderheads;
the fires of my youth are smothered,
my heart is torn to bitter shreds.

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To Novella

© Mary Barber

An Epigram
You cry, She's bred in the Old Way;
Then into Laughter fall:
Were she as just to you, she'd say,
You are not bred at all.

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The Canterbury Tales; the Squieres tale

© Geoffrey Chaucer

The Prologe of the Squieres tale.