Poems begining by T
/ page 302 of 916 /
Thy Heart
© George MacDonald
Make not of thy heart a casket,
Opening seldom, quick to close;
But of bread a wide-mouthed basket,
Or a cup that overflows.
The Black Virgin
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
One in thy thousand statues we salute thee
On all thy thousand thrones acclaim and claim
The Bartholdi Statue
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The land, that, from the rule of kings,
In freeing us, itself made free,
Our Old World Sister, to us brings
Her sculptured Dream of Liberty,
Thinkin' Back
© James Whitcomb Riley
Thinkin' back--W'y, goodness me!
I kin call their names and see
Every little tad I played
With, er fought, er was afraid
Of, and so made _him_ the best
Friend I had of all the rest!
To The Rev. A. A. In The Country From His Friend In London
© Horace Smith
Thou little village curate,
Come quick, and do not wait;
We'll sit and talk together,
So sweetly _tete-a-tete_.
The Party
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
DEY had a gread big pahty down to Tom's de othah night;
Was I dah? You bet! I neveh in my life see sich a sight;
Trafalgar Day
© George Meredith
He leads: we hear our Seaman's call
In the roll of battles won;
For he is Britain's Admiral
Till setting of her sun.
The Progress Of A Divine: Satire
© Richard Savage
All priests are not the same, be understood!
Priests are, like other folks, some bad, some good.
What's vice or virtue, sure admits no doubt;
Then, clergy, with church mission, or without;
When good, or bad, annex we to your name,
The greater honour, or the greater shame.
The Surprises Of The Superhuman
© Wallace Stevens
The palais de justice of chambermaids
Tops the horizon with its colonnades.
The Lover In Winter Plaineth For The Spring
© Anonymous
Westron wind, when wilt thou blow
That small rain down can rain?
Christ, that my love were in my arms
And I in my bed again!
The Gunners
© Gertrude Bartlett
The shining dead men, rank on rank, appear,
Their voices raised in one great cry, to hail
The gunners prone, for whom reveille clear
Their silver bugles blow in morning pale.
Your battle, God! to make men great; and here,
In that cause, dead, unvanquished, we prevail.
The Fate Of Bass
© Mary Hannay Foott
On the snow-line of the summit stood the Spaniard's English slave;
And the frighted condor westward flew afar--
The Cumberland
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
At anchor in Hampton Roads we lay,
On board of the Cumberland sloop-of-war;
To the Troubler of the World
© William Watson
At last we know you, War-lord. You, that flung
The gauntlet down, fling down the mask you wore,
Publish your heart, and let its pent hate pour,
You that had God for ever on your tongue.
The Health-Food Diner
© Maya Angelou
No sprouted wheat and soya shoots
And Brussels in a cake,
Carrot straw and spinach raw,
(Today, I need a steak).
The Prison Bell
© Owen Suffolk
Hark to the bell of sorrow! - 'tis awak'ning up again
Each broken spirit from its brief forgetfulness of pain.
