Poems begining by T
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The Boy's Ideal
© Edgar Albert Guest
I must be fit for a child to play with,
Fit for a youngster to walk away with;
The Ballad[e] Of Imitation
© Henry Austin Dobson
POSTSCRIPTUM-And you, whom we all so adore,
Dear Critics, whose verdicts are always so new!-
One word in your ear. There were Critics before . . .
And the man who plants cabbages imitates, too!
The Sower (Eastern France)
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Familiar, year by year, to the creaking wain
Is the long road's level ridge above the plain.
To--day a battery comes with horses and guns
On the straight road, that under the poplars runs,
"The Wishing Star."
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
Day floated down the sky; a perfect day,
Leaving a footprint of pale primrose gold
"This Enlightened Age"
© Ada Cambridge
I say it to myself-in meekest awe
Of Progress, electricity and steam,
Of this almighty age-this liberal age,
That has no time to breathe, or think, or dream,-
The Fruitfulness Of The Locust
© Confucius
Ye locusts, winged tribes,
Gather in concord fine;
Well your descendants may
In numerous bright hosts shine!
The Bull Of Bendylaw
© Sylvia Plath
The black bull bellowed before the sea.
The sea, till that day orderly,
Hove up against Bendylaw.
The House Of Dust: Part 01: 08:
© Conrad Aiken
The white fog creeps from the cold sea over the city,
Over the pale grey tumbled towers,
And settles among the roofs, the pale grey walls.
Along damp sinuous streets it crawls,
Curls like a dream among the motionless trees
And seems to freeze.
The Two Angels. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Two angels, one of Life and one of Death,
Passed o'er our village as the morning broke;
The dawn was on their faces, and beneath,
The sombre houses hearsed with plumes of smoke.
The Silent Victors
© James Whitcomb Riley
Dying for victory, cheer on cheer
Thundered on his eager ear.
--CHARLES L. HOLSTEIN.
The Resurrection
© John Crowe Ransom
LONG, long before men die I sometimes read
Their stoic backs as plain as graveyard stones,
The Things They Musn't Touch
© Edgar Albert Guest
Been down to the art museum an' looked at a thousand things,
The bodies of ancient mummies an' the treasures of ancient kings,
The Hottentot
© Thomas Pringle
Mild, melancholy, and sedate, he stands,
Tending another's flock upon the fields,
The Mothers Secret
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
But Mary, faithful to its lightest word,
Kept in her heart the sayings she had heard,
Till the dread morning rent the Temple's veil,
And shuddering earth confirmed the wondrous tale.
To Mrs. Frances--Arabella Kelly, With A Present Of Fruit.
© Mary Barber
Tho' the Plumb, and the Peach, with Apollo conspire,
To present you their Softness, and Sweetness, and Fire;
Their Aid is in vain; for what can they do,
But blush, and confess them selves vanquish'd by you?
Where Virtue and Wit with such Qualities blend,
What Mortal, what Goddess, would dare to contend?
To dietakes just a little while
© Emily Dickinson
To dietakes just a little while
They say it doesn't hurt
It's only fainterby degrees
And thenit's out of sight
The Three Horses
© George MacDonald
What shall I be?-I will be a knight
Walled up in armour black,
With a sword of sharpness, a hammer of might.
And a spear that will not crack-
So black, so blank, no glimmer of light
Will betray my darkling track.
