Poems begining by T
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The Syrophenician Woman
© George MacDonald
"Grant, Lord, her prayer, and let her go;
She crieth after us."
Nay, to the dogs ye cast it so;
Serve not a woman thus.
The Higher Kinship
© William Wilfred Campbell
Life is too grim with anxious, eating care
To cherish what is best. Our souls are scarred
The Hint Fm French
© Thomas Parnell
How nicely fair Phillis you manage yr slave
You neither reproach nor approve him
The Season
© Ada Cambridge
And must I wear a silken life,
Hemmed in by city walls?
And must I give my garden up
For theatres and balls?
The Enchanted Shirt
© John Hay
The King was sick. His cheek was red,
And his eye was clear and bright;
He ate and drank with kingly zest,
And peacefully snored at night.
The Simple Toilers
© Edgar Albert Guest
JUST to do the little things
And do them well from day to day,
To A Familiar Genius Flying By
© Vasily Andreyevich Zhukovsky
Reveal yourself, anonymous enchanter!
What heaven hastens you to me?
Why draw me to that promised land again
That I gave up so long ago?
The Leper
© John Newton
Oft as the leper's case I read,
My own described I feel;
Sin is a leprosy indeed,
Which none but Christ can heal.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XLV
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
THE SAME CONTINUED
Do you remember how I laughed at you
In the Beaulieu woods, and how I made my peace?
It was your thirtieth birthday, and you threw
The Indian City
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
What deep wounds ever clos'd without a scar?
The heart's bleed longest, and but heal to wear
That which disfigures it.
Childe Harold
The Common Man
© Julian Tuwim
When plastered billboards scream with slogans
'fight for your country, go to battle'
The Neophyte
© Alice Meynell
Who knows what days I answer for to-day:
Giving the bud I give the flower. I bow
This yet unfaded and a faded brow;
Bending these knees and feeble knees, I pray.
Those Two boys
© Franklin Pierce Adams
When Bill was a lad he was terribly bad.
He worried his parents a lot;
The Shepherds Calendar - December-Christmass
© John Clare
Christmass is come and every hearth
Makes room to give him welcome now
Een want will dry its tears in mirth
And crown him wi a holly bough
Tu Palabra Mas Futil...
© Ramon Lopez Velarde
Magdalena, conozco que te amo
en que la más trivial de tus acciones
es pasto para mí, como la miga
es la felicidad de los gorriones.
