Poems begining by T
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Musician's Tale; The Saga of King Olaf XXII. -- The Nun Of Nida
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In the convent of Drontheim,
Alone in her chamber
Knelt Astrid the Abbess,
At midnight, adoring,
Beseeching, entreating
The Virgin and Mother.
The Color Sergeant
© James Weldon Johnson
Under a burning tropic sun,
With comrades around him lying,
A trooper of the sable Tenth
Lay wounded, bleeding, dying.
The Voice
© Sara Teasdale
ATOMS as old as stars,
Mutation on mutation,
Millions and millions of cells
Dividing yet still the same,
The Wonder Of It
© Harriet Monroe
How wild, how witch-like weird that life should be!
That the insensate rock dared dream of me,
And take to bursting out and burgeoning
Oh, long agoyo ho!
And wearing green! How stark and strange a thing
That life should be!
The Wombat
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
OH how the family affections combat
Within this heart, and each hour flings a bomb at
My burning soul! Neither from owl nor from bat
Can peace be gained until I clasp my wombat.
The Seven Year Old Poet
© Arthur Rimbaud
And so the Mother, shutting up the duty book,
Went, proud and satisfied.
The Canary In His Cage
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
SING away, ay, sing away,
Merry little bird,
Always gayest of the gay,
Though a woodland roundelay
The Legend of La Brea
© Charles Kingsley
Down beside the loathly Pitch Lake,
In the stately Morichal,
Sat an ancient Spanish Indian,
Peering through the columns tall.
Time To Rise
© Robert Louis Stevenson
A birdie with a yellow bill
Hopped upon my window sill,
Cocked his shining eye and said:
"Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-head!"
The Gulf of All Human Possessions
© Jonathan Swift
Come hither, and behold the fruits,
Vain man! of all thy vain pursuits.
Take wise advice, and look behind,
Bring all past actions to thy mind.
The Disenthralled
© John Greenleaf Whittier
HE had bowed down to drunkenness,
An abject worshipper:
The pride of manhood's pulse had grown
Too faint and cold to stir;
The Riding Camel
© William Henry Ogilvie
I was Junda's riding camel. I went in front of the train.
I was hung with shells of the Orient, from saddle and cinch and rein.
I was sour as a snake to handle, and rough a rock to ride,
But I could keep up with the west wind, and my pace was Junda's pride.
The Poetry Of Keats
© George Meredith
The song of a nightingale sent thro' a slumbrous valley,
Low-lidded with twilight, and tranced with the dolorous sound,
Tranced with a tender enchantment; the yearning of passion
That wins immortality even while panting delirious with death.
The Visionary
© Emily Jane Brontë
Silent is the house: all are laid asleep:
One alone looks out oer the snow-wreaths deep,
The Least Possible
© Edith Nesbit
DEAR goddess of the shining shrine
Where all my votive tapers burn,
Where every gold-embroidered thought
And all my flowers of life are brought
--With many, alas! that are not mine--
What will you give me in return?
The Friend Of Humanity And The Rhymer
© Henry Austin Dobson
R. To hear you talk,
You'd make it easier to fly than walk.
You seem to think that rhyming is a thing
You can produce if you but touch a spring;
The Precipitate Cock And The Unappreciated Pearl
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
A rooster once pursued a worm
That lingered not to brave him,
To The Oaks Of Glencree
© John Millington Synge
MY arms are round you, and I lean
Against you, while the lark
Sings over us, and golden lights, and green
Shadows are on your bark.
