Poems begining by T
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The End Of The Play
© William Makepeace Thackeray
The play is done; the curtain drops,
Slow falling to the prompter's bell:
The Lucky Horseshoe
© James Thomas Fields
One morn, demoralized with grief,
The farmer clamored for relief;
And prayed right hard to understand
What witchcraft now possessed his land;
Why house and farm in misery grew
Since he nailed up that lucky shoe.
The Plaint Of A Rejected Wife
© Confucius
No cherishing you give,
I'm hostile in your eyes.
As pedler's wares for which none cares,
My virtues you despise.
The Complaint Of An Officer
© Confucius
O Heaven above, before whose light
Revealed is every deed and thought,
The Eyes Of Herod
© Arthur Symons
The eyes of Herod look not upon Her,
The painted angel of some delicate lust
The Scythians
© Alexander Blok
You are but millions. Our unnumbered nations
Are as the sands upon the sounding shore.
We are the Scythians! We are the slit-eyed Asians!
Try to wage war with us-you'll try no more!
The Wrath Of Loyalty
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
OCTOBER! tho' thy rugged brow,
No vivid wreaths entwine;
Tho' not for thee the zephyr blow,
Tho' not for thee the blossom glow,
Or skies unclouded shine:
The Twenty-Second Of December
© William Cullen Bryant
Wild was the day; the wintry sea
Moaned sadly on New-England's strand,
When first the thoughtful and the free,
Our fathers, trod the desert land.
The Usurer
© Jean Blewett
FATE says, and flaunts her stores of gold,
'I'll loan you happiness untold.
What is it you desire of me?'
A perfect hour in which to be
The Over-Heart
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Above, below, in sky and sod,
In leaf and spar, in star and man,
Well might the wise Athenian scan
The geometric signs of God,
The measured order of His plan.
The Death Of Agnes
© Edith Nesbit
Now that the sunlight dies in my eyes,
And the moonlight grows in my hair,
The Lady Of The Castle
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
One sunny morn
With alms before her castle gate she stood,
Midst peasant-groups; when, breathless and o'erworn,
And shrouded in long weeds of widowhood,
The Widow Of Crescentius : Part II.
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Hast thou a scene that is not spread
With records of thy glory fled?
The Firetail's Nest
© John Clare
"Tweet" pipes the robin as the cat creeps by
Her nestling young that in the elderns lie,
Twilight
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Warm, the deserted evening
Closes over the moor.
Was it here we walked and were merry
Only an hour before?
The Welshnut Tree
© William Barnes
When in the evenèn the zun's a-zinkèn,
A drowèn sheädes vrom the yollow west,
The Christian
© John Crowe Ransom
I HEARD a story of a sailing man.
He was a surly sort of mariner,
He used to swear at all the seven seas,
And rode them dauntless up and down the earth.
