Poems begining by T
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The Silver Moon
© Sappho
The silver moon is set;
The Pleiades are gone;
Half the long night is spent, and yet
I lie alone.
The Idlers Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. April
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
TROUT--FISHING
This morning, through my window, half awake,
I felt the south wind blow; and presently,
With a tumultuous thrill and then a shake,
The Welcome tent
© Henry Van Dyke
This is the thanksgiving of the weary,
The song of him that is ready to rest.
The Battle
© Madison Julius Cawein
BLACK clouds hung low and heavy,
Above the sunset glare;
And in the garden dimly
We wandered here and there.
T'is So Much Joy
© Emily Dickinson
T is so much joy! T is so much joy!
If I should fail, what poverty!
And yet, as poor as I
Have ventured all upon a throw;
Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so
This side the victory!
The Vision of a Giant who Migrated from Baja to Tiburon Island
© Anonymous
Slender whirlwinds coming from the sky
touch the land.
To France
© Frederick George Scott
What is the gift we have given thee, Sister?
What is the trust we have laid in thy hand?
Hearts of our bravest, our best, and our dearest,
Blood of our blood we have sown in thy land.
The Funeral
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
MARK you not yon sad procession;
'Mid the ruin'd abbey's gloom,
Hastening to the worm's possession,
To the dark and silent tomb!
The Violet
© Jones Very
Thou tellest truths unspoken yet by man
By this thy lonely home and modest look;
To O.W. Holmes. On His Birthday
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
DEAR Doctor, whose blandly invincible pen
Has honored so of tell your great fellowmen
With your genius and virtues, who doubts it is true
That the world owes in turn, a warm tribute to you?
To A Dead Friend
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
It is as if a silver chord
Were suddenly grown mute,
And life's song with its rhythm warred
Against a silver lute.
The Deodand
© Anthony Evan Hecht
What are these women up to? Theyve gone and strung
Drapes over the windows, cutting out light
The Lady Of La Garaye - Part IV
© Caroline Norton
Not vacant in the day of which I write!
Then rose thy pillared columns fair and white;
Then floated out the odorous pleasant scent
Of cultured shrubs and flowers together blent,
And o'er the trim-kept gravel's tawny hue
Warm fell the shadows and the brightness too.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Landlord's Tale; Paul Revere's Ride
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.
The Aurora Borealis
© George MacDonald
Now have I grown a sharpness and an edge
Unto my future nights, and I will cut
The Conversation. A Tale
© Matthew Prior
It always has been a thought discreet
To know the company you meet;
And sure there may be secret danger
In talking much before a stranger.
Agreed: what then? Then drink your ale;
I'll pledge you, and repeat my tale.
The Heroic Enthusiasts - Part The Second =Fifth Dialogue=.
© Giordano Bruno
Of those, oh gentle Dames, who with closed urn,
Present themselves, whose hearts are pierced
Not for a fault by nature caused,
But through a cruel fate,
That in a living death,
Does hold them fast, we each and all are blind.
The Death Of Winter
© George Meredith
When April with her wild blue eye
Comes dancing over the grass,
