Poems begining by T
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To HisOwn Beloved Self, The Author Dedicates These Lines
© Vladimir Mayakovsky
Six.
Ponderous. The chimes of a clock.
Render unto Caesar ... render unto God...
But wheres
someone like me to dock?
Where11 I find a lair?
The Kick Under The Table
© Edgar Albert Guest
After a man has been married awhile,
And his wife has grown used to his manner
The Bagman's Dog: Mr. Peters's Story
© Richard Harris Barham
It was a litter, a litter of five,
Four are drown'd and one left alive,
He was thought worthy alone to survive;
And the Bagman resolved upon bringing him up,
To eat of his bread, and to drink of his cup,
He was such a dear little cock-tail'd pup.
The Night Bird: A Myth
© Charles Kingsley
A floating, a floating
Across the sleeping sea,
All night I heard a singing bird
Upon the topmost tree.
The Nap Taker
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
No - I did not take a nap -
The nap - took - me
off the bed and out the window
far beyond the sea,
To A Friend, In Answer To A Melancholy Letter
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Away, those cloudy looks, that lab'ring sigh,
The peevish offspring of a sickly hour!
Nor meanly thus complain of fortune's power,
When the blind gamester throws a luckless die.
The Child In The Garden
© Henry Van Dyke
When to the garden of untroubled thought
I came of late, and saw the open door,
Twenty-Second Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
What liberty so glad and gay,
As where the mountain boy,
Reckless of regions far away,
A prisoner lives in joy?
The Reprieve
© Caroline Norton
"Oh! hear me, thou, who in the sunshine's glare
So calmly waitest till the warning bell
Shall of the closing hour of his despair
In gloomy notes of muffled triumph tell.
The Empty Hills
© Yvor Winters
The grandeur of deep afternoons,
The pomp of haze on marble hills,
Where every white-walled villa swoons
Through violence that heat fulfills,
The barren music of a word or phrase,
© Christopher Morley
THE barren music of a word or phrase,
The futile arts of syllable and stress,
He sought. The poetry of common days
He did not guess.
The Powers Of Love
© George Moses Horton
It lifts the poor man from his cell
To fortune's bright alcove;
Its mighty sway few, few can tell,
Mid envious foes it conquers ill;
There's nothing half like love.
The Two Thieves; Or, The Last Stage Of Avarice
© William Wordsworth
O NOW that the genius of Bewick were mine,
And the skill which he learned on the banks of the Tyne.
Then the Muses might deal with me just as they chose,
For I'd take my last leave both of verse and of prose.
The Angel And The Child. (From Jean Reboul, The Baker Of Nismes)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
An angel with a radiant face,
Above a cradle bent to look,
Seemed his own image there to trace,
As in the waters of a brook.
The Right Sort
© William Henry Ogilvie
We have hustled that litter in Heatherlie Whin,
Two crouch in the bracken, two dodge in the corn,
Till The Wind Gets Right
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
OH the breeze is blowin' balmy
And the sun is in a haze;
There Is A Spell In Autumn
© Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
There is a spell in autumn early,
One all too brief, of an enchantment rare:
The nights are radiant and pearly,
The days, pellucid, crystal-clear.
The Wind O' Death.
© Robert Crawford
Oh! we hae a' to die, dear,
We're a' to gang awa';
We, when Death's wind blows by, dear,
Like apples hae to fa';
The Boundary Rider
© Thomas William Heney
THE BRIDLE reins hang loose in the hold of his lean left hand;
As the tether gives, the horse bends browsing down to the sand,
