Poems begining by T
/ page 284 of 916 /Tennyson
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
Shakespeare and Milton-what third blazoned name
Shall lips of after-ages link to these?
His who, beside the wide encircling seas,
Was England's voice, her voice with one acclaim,
For threescore years; whose word of praise was fame,
Whose scorn gave pause to man's iniquities.
Try Before You Trust
© Thomas Vaux
To counsel my estate, abandoned to the spoil
Of forged friends, whose grossest fraud is set with finest foil;
To verify true dealing wights, whose trust no treason dreads,
And all too dear th'acquaintance be, of such most harmful heads;
I am advised thus: who so doth friend, friend so,
As though tomorrow next he feared for to become a foe.
The Pine
© Augusta Davies Webster
The elm lets fall its leaves before the frost,
The very oak grows shivering and sere,
The trees are barren when the summer's lost:
But one tree keeps its goodness all the year.
The Bottle And The Bird
© Eugene Field
Once on a time a friend of mine prevailed on me to go
To see the dazzling splendors of a sinful ballet show,
And after we had reveled in the saltatory sights
We sought a neighboring cafe for more tangible delights;
When I demanded of my friend what viands he preferred,
He quoth: "A large cold bottle and a small hot bird!"
Trees
© Bliss William Carman
IN the Garden of Eden, planted by God,
There were goodly trees in the springing sod,
Trees of beauty and height and grace,
To stand in splendor before His face.
The Beekeeper's Daughter
© Sylvia Plath
A garden of mouthings. Purple, scarlet-speckled, black
The great corollas dilate, peeling back their silks.
Their musk encroaches, circle after circle,
A well of scents almost too dense to breathe in.
Hieratical in your frock coat, maestro of the bees,
You move among the many-breasted hives,
To the Moon [Earlier Version]
© Charles Harpur
WITH silent step behold her steal
Over those envious clouds that hid
The Nest
© James Russell Lowell
When oaken woods with buds are pink,
And new-come birds each morning sing,
When fickle May on Summer's brink
Pauses, and knows not which to fling,
Whether fresh bud and bloom again,
Or hoar-frost silvering hill and plain,
To The Germans
© Tadeusz Borowski
Don't walk in the street,don't eat, don't live,
backbreaking work is all you're allowed,
and beware the sign that bares its teeth:
"Only for Germans, others keep out."
Thinking Of My Brothers On A Moonlit Night
© Du Fu
Drums on the watch-tower have emptied the roads -
At the frontier it's autumn; a wild-goose cries.
This is a night in which dew becomes frost;
The moon is bright like it used to be at home.
Two Lacquer Prints
© Amy Lowell
ONCE, in the sultry heat of midsummer,
An Emperor caused the miniature mountains in his garden
To be covered with white silk,
That so crowned,
They might cool his eyes
With the sparkle of snow.
To A Child
© Christopher Morley
The greatest poem ever known
Is one all poets have outgrown:
The poetry, innate, untold,
Of being only four years old.
The Pantomime Super to His Mask
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Vast empty shell!
Impertinent, preposterous abortion!
To His Royal Highness The Prince Of Wales
© James Thomson
While secret-leaguing nations frown around,
Ready to pour the long-expected storm;
While she, who wont the restless Gaul to bound,
Britannia, drooping, grows an empty form;
While on our vitals selfish parties prey,
And deep corruption eats our soul away;
Two Gentlemen That Broke Their Promise
© James Shirley
There is no faith in claret, and it shall
Henceforth with me be held apocryphal.