Poems begining by T
/ page 309 of 916 /
Twilight
© James Montgomery
I love thee, Twilight! as thy shadows roll,
The calm of evening steals upon my soul,
The Bobolinks
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
WHEN Nature had made all her birds,
With no more cares to think on,
She gave a rippling laugh, and out
There flew a Bobolinkon.
To You.
© Arthur Henry Adams
SO you have come at last!
And we nestle, each in each,
As leans the pliant sea in the clean-curved limbs of her lover the beach;
Merged in each other quite,
The Letter
© Wilfred Owen
With B.E.F. Jun 10. Dear Wife,
(Oh blast this pencil. 'Ere, Bill, lend's a knife.)
The Quilting
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
DOLLY sits a-quilting by her mother, stitch by stich,
Gracious, how my pulses throb, how my fingers itch,
While I note her dainty waist and her slender hand,
As she matches this and that, she stitches strand by strand.
And I long to tell her Life's a quilt and I'm a patch;
Love will do the stitching if she'll only be my match.
The Forsaken
© Caroline Norton
IT is the music of her native land,--
The airs she used to love in happier days;
The lute is struck by some young gentle hand,
To soothe her spirit with remember'd lays.
II.
To John Gorham Palfrey
© James Russell Lowell
There are who triumph in a losing cause,
Who can put on defeat, as 'twere a wreath
Unwithering in the adverse popular breath,
Safe from the blasting demagogue's applause;
'Tis they who stand for Freedom and God's laws.
Torn In Shreds
© Mirabai
Mine is Gopal, the Mountain-Holder; there is no one else.
On his head he wears the peacock-crown: He alone is my husband.
Father, mother, brother, relative: I have none to call my own.
I've forsaken both God, and the family's honor: what should I do?
The Sleepers
© Bliss William Carman
THE tall carnations crown the garden walks
Bowed on their stalks.
The War
© Alfred Tennyson
There is a sound of thunder afar,
Storm in the south that darkens the day,
The Wind Speaks
© Alfred Austin
``In the depth of Night, on the heights of Day,
Would you know where I rest or roam?
In vain will you search, for I nowhere stay,
And the Universe is my home.
The Judgement Of The Poets
© William Cowper
Two nymphs, both nearly of an age,
Of numerous charms possessed,
A warm dispute once chanced to wage,
Whose temper was the best.
To The Right Honourable Lady Charlotte Gordon
© James Beattie
Why, Lady, wilt thou bind thy lovely brow
With the dread semblance of that warlike helm,
That nodding plume, and wreathe of various glow,
That graced the chiefs of Scotia's ancient realm?
The Parade.
© Arthur Henry Adams
Along the lamp-lit streets they glide and go:
Here Nature in her brutishness is nude:
See, thinly trickling from the age-old wound,
The steady stream of squandered womanhood!
The Lay of the Last Minstrel: Canto V.
© Sir Walter Scott
Lord Dacre
"Forward, brave champions, to the fight!
Sound trumpets!" -
To my mother
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
LIKE streamlets to a silent sea,
These songs with varied motion
Flow from bright fancy's uplands free,
To Lethe's clouded ocean;
The Perfect Playmate
© Katharine Tynan
The Perfect Playmate, whither does he stray
That now no more his feet come up this way
That rang so blithe upon the nursery floor?
Wild games and laughter! Now the little son
Listens and longs, and his small world's undone.
The Perfect Playmate will return no more.
Tonsils
© Edgar Albert Guest
One day the doctor came because my throat was feeling awful sore,
And when he looked inside to see he said: "It's like it was before;
It's tonserlitis, sure enough. You'd better tell her Pa to-day
To make his mind up now to have that little party right away."
There is a Solemn Wind To-Night
© Katherine Mansfield
There is a solemn wind to-night
That sings of solemn rain;
The trees that have been quiet so long
Flutter and start again.
