Poems begining by T
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To my quick ear the Leavesconferred
© Emily Dickinson
To my quick ear the Leavesconferred
The Bushesthey were Bells
I could not find a Privacy
From Nature's sentinels
The Twa Dogs
© Robert Burns
'Twas in that place o' Scotland's isle,
That bears the name o' auld King Coil,
Upon a bonie day in June,
When wearin' thro' the afternoon,
Twa dogs, that were na thrang at hame,
Forgather'd ance upon a time.
The Lay of the Laborer
© Thomas Hood
A spade! a rake! a hoe!
A pickaxe, or a bill!
A hook to reap, or a scythe to mow,
A flail, or what ye will
The Boys Of The House: For Valentine and Hubert Blake
© Katharine Tynan
Young martyrs of the war,
Who with your bright eyes star
The shadows grey;
Who steal at dawn and gloam
In each beloved room
So pale, so gay.
The Story Of A Soul.
© James Brunton Stephens
WHO can say "Thus far, no farther," to the tide of his own nature?
Who can mould the spirit's fashion to the counsel of his will?
The Inn of Apollo
© Alfred Noyes
Have you supped at the Inn of Apollo,
While the last light fades from the West?
Has the Lord of the Sun, at the world's end,
Poured you his ripest and best?
O, there's wine in that Inn of Apollo;
Told By "The Noted Traveler"
© James Whitcomb Riley
Even so had they wrought all ways
To earn the pennies, and hoard them, too,--
And with what ultimate end in view?--
They were saving up money enough to be
Able, in time, to buy their own
Five children back.
There Is Still Splendour
© Robert Laurence Binyon
O when will life taste clean again? For the air
Is fouled: the world sees, hears; and each day brings
Vile fume that would corrupt eternal things,
Were they corruptible. Harsh trumpets blare
The Little Czar
© Henry Lawson
Oh, Great White Czar of Russia, who hid your face and ran,
Youve flung afar the grandest chance that ever came to man!
You might have been, and could have beenah, think it to your shame!
The Czar of all the Russias, in fact as well as name.
To Doctor Bale
© Barnabe Googe
Good aged Bale, that with thy hoary hairs
Dost yet persist to turn the painful book,
The Muses Threnodie: First Muse
© Henry Adamson
Of Mr George Ruthven the tears and mournings,
Amidst the giddie course of fortune's turnings,
Upon his dear friend's death, Mr John Gall,
Where his rare ornaments bear a part, and wretched Gabions all.
The Gift
© Sara Teasdale
What can I give you, my lord, my lover,
You who have given the world to me,
Showed me the light and the joy that cover
The wild sweet earth and the restless sea?
The River Of Ruin
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
ALONG by the river of ruin
They dally the thoughtless ones,
The Spelling Lesson
© Carolyn Wells
When Venus said: "Spell no for me,"
"N-O," Dan Cupid wrote with glee,
And smiled at his success;
"Ah, child," said Venus, laughing low,
"We women do not spell it so,
We spell it Y-E-S."
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: CX
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
THE OASIS OF SIDI KHALED
How the earth burns! Each pebble underfoot
Is as a living thing with power to wound.
The white sand quivers, and the footfall mute
The Duke Of Plaza-Toro
© William Schwenck Gilbert
In enterprise of martial kind,
When there was any fighting,
