Poems begining by T
/ page 286 of 916 /
The Year Clock
© William Barnes
We zot bezide the leafy wall,
Upon the bench at evenfall,
While aunt led off our minds wrom ceare
Wi' veairy teales, I can't tell where,
The Death Of Myth-Making
© Sylvia Plath
Two virtues ride, by stallion, by nag,
To grind our knives and scissors:
Lantern-jawed Reason, squat Common Sense,
One courting doctors of all sorts,
One, housewives and shopkeepers.
The Hours Of Illness
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
How slow creeps time! I hear the midnight chime,
And now late revellers prepare for sleep;
The Portrait In The Rock
© Pablo Neruda
Oh yes I knew him, I spent years with him,
with his golden and stony substance,
he was a man who was tired -
in Paraguay he left his father and mother,
To The Birds
© Peter McArthur
HOW dare you sing such cheerful notes?
You show a woful lack of taste;
How dare you pour from happy throats
Such merry songs with raptured haste,
While all our poets wail and weep,
And readers sob themselves to sleep?
To An Amiable Friend Mourning The Death Of An Excellent Father
© Mercy Otis Warren
LET deep dejection hide her pallid face,
And from thy breast each painful image rase;
Forbid thy lip to utter one complaint,
But view the glories of the rising saint,
Ripe for a crown, and waiting the reward
Of watching long the vineyard of the Lord.
Thoughts On Jesus Christ's Decent Into Hell
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
A mighty army marches on
By thousand millions follow'd, lo,
To yon dark place makes haste to go
To The Duchess Of Ferrara
© Torquato Tasso
Royal bride, see the time advance
That calls true lovers to the dance,
The Second Whip Explains
© William Henry Ogilvie
Now, gatherin' 'ounds is a job I like
W'en the winter day draws in,
The People
© Pablo Neruda
I, who knew him, saw him descend
till he was no longer except what he left:
roads he could scarcely know,
houses he never ever would live in.
The Folk I Love
© Lesbia Harford
All the dreary afternoon
I must clutch
At the strength to love like them
Not too much
The Virtuoso: In Imitation of Spenser's Style And Stanza
© Mark Akenside
--- Videmus
Nugari solitos.
-Persius
Temple
© John Donne
With His kind mother, who partakes thy woe,
Joseph, turn back ; see where your child doth sit,
Tale X
© George Crabbe
It is the Soul that sees: the outward eyes
Present the object, but the Mind descries;
And thence delight, disgust, or cool indiff'rence
The Libertine
© Aphra Behn
A THOUSAND martyrs I have made,
All sacrificed to my desire,
A thousand beauties have betray'd
That languish in resistless fire:
The untamed heart to hand I brought,
And fix'd the wild and wand'ring thought.
The Demon
© Mikhail Lermontov
...Cold and regretless shalt thou view this sphere,
Where crimes inseparable from fate,
The Voice in the Wild Oak
© Henry Kendall
Twelve years ago, when I could face
High heavens dome with different eyes
