Poems begining by T
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The Voyage Of St. Brendan A.D. 545 - Ara Of The Saints
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Hearing how blessed Enda lived apart,
Amid the sacred caves of Ara-mhor,
And how beneath his eye, spread like a chart,
Lay all the isles of that remotest shore;
The Four Roses
© John Crowe Ransom
FOUR sisters sitting in one house,
I said, these roses on a stem
With bosoms bare. But wayfaring
I went and ravished one of them.
The Adoration
© Arthur Symons
Why have you brought me myrrh
And frankincense and gold?
Lay at the feet of her
Whom you have loved of old
Your frankincense and gold?
The Telegram
© Thomas Hardy
'O He's suffering - maybe dying - and I not there to aid,
And smooth his bed and whisper to him! Can I nohow go?
Only the nurse's brief twelve words thus hurriedly conveyed,
As by stealth, to let me know.
The Dance To Death. Act II
© Emma Lazarus
LANDGRAVE.
Who tells thee of my son's love for the Jewess?
The Village Green
© Ann Taylor
ON the cheerful village green,
Skirted round with houses small,
All the boys and girls are seen,
Playing there with hoop and ball.
The Retort Discourteous
© Stephen Vincent Benet
But what, by the fur on your satin sleeves,
The rain that drags at my feather
And the great Mercurius, god of thieves,
Are we thieves doing together?
"The flower, full blown, now bends the stalk, now breaks"
© Alfred Austin
The flower, full blown, now bends the stalk, now breaks;
The mellow fruit inclines the bough to earth;
The Virgin's Cradle-Hymn. Copied From A Print Of The Virgin, In A Roman Catholic Village In Germany
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Dormi, Jesu! Mater ridet
Quae tam dulcem somnum videt,
Dormi, Jesu! blandule!
Si non dormis, Mater plorat,
Inter fila cantans orat,
Blande, veni, somnule.
The Revenge - A Ballad of the Fleet
© Alfred Tennyson
Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: 'I know you are no coward;
You fly them for a moment to fight with them again.
But I've ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore.
I should count myself the coward if I left them, my Lord Howard,
To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain.'
Tale VIII
© George Crabbe
grace?" -
"He knew she hated every watering-place."
"The town?"--"What! now 'twas empty, joyless,
To Canada
© Katharine Lee Bates
OUR neighbor of the undefended bound,
Friend of the hundred years of peace, our kin,
The Bleeding Rock: Or, The Metamorphosis Of A Nymph Into Stone
© Hannah More
Too soon he heard of fair Ianthe's fame,
'Twas each enamour'd Shepherd's fav'rite theme;
Return'd the rising, and the setting sun,
The Shepherd's fav'rite theme was never done.
They prais'd her wit, her worth, her shape, her air!
And even interior beauties own'd her fair.
The Old Oak
© George Borrow
Here have I stood, the pride of the park,
In winter with snow on my frozen bark;
To A Robin In November
© William Wilfred Campbell
Sweet, sweet, throwing thy lack of fear
Back to the heart of God, till heaven feels
The throbbing of earths music through and through.
To His Lady
© Thomas Carew
ASK me no more where Jove bestows,
When June is past, the fading rose;
For in your beauties' orient deep,
These flow'rs, as in their causes, sleep.
