Poems begining by T
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The Wanderer's Lament
© Arthur Symons
Why am I fettered with eternal change?
I follow after changeless love, and find
The Victories Of Love. Book II
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
II
From Lady Clitheroe To Mary Churchill
The Pleasures of Ordinary Life
© Judith Viorst
I've had my share of necessary losses,
Of dreams I know no longer can come true.
I'm done now with the whys and the becauses.
It's time to make things good, not just make do.
It's time to stop complaining and pursue
The pleasures of an ordinary life.
Then And Now
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
He loved her, and through many years,
Had paid his fair devoted court,
Until she wearied, and with sneers
Turned all his ardent love to sport.
The Endless Lure
© Harry Kemp
When I was a lad I went to sea
And they made a cabin boy of me.
Yo ho, haul away, my bullies!
We'd hardly put out from the bay
When my knees sagged in and my face turned grey;
The Creek of the Four Graves [Early Version]
© Charles Harpur
And feeling thus by habit, that poor man
Though the black shadow of untimely death
Hopelessly thickened under every stroke,
Upstruggled desperate, until at last,
One, as in mercy, gave him to the dust,
With all his sorrows.
To H. C.
© William Wordsworth
SIX YEARS OLD
O THOU! whose fancies from afar are brought;
Who of thy words dost make a mock apparel,
And fittest to unutterable thought
The Passing Of The Beautiful
© Madison Julius Cawein
On southern winds shot through with amber light,
Breeding soft balm, and clothed in cloudy white,
Toilet Of A Dandy
© Kenneth Slessor
TRANSPORTS of filed nerves; a wistful cough;
One sensual hairbrush reluctantly concludes
The Great Harry's excruciations and beatitudes,
Delicately and gravely putting things on and off.
To The Countess Of Blessington
© George Gordon Byron
You have ask'd for a verse:--the request
In a rhymer 'twere strange to deny;
But my Hippocrene was but my breast,
And my feelings (its fountain) are dry.
Thy Mustard Is Keen And Thy Branston Is Sticky But Piquant
© Seamus Justin Heaney
Pies
Are without substance when
The World's Wanderers
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Tell me, thou Star, whose wings of light
Speed thee in thy fiery flight,
In what cavern of the night
Will thy pinions close now?
The Wrestlers
© Wilfred Owen
So neck to neck and obstinate knee to knee
Wrestled those two; and peerless Heracles
To John Johnson, On His Presenting Me With An Antique Bust Of Homer
© William Cowper
Kinsman beloved, and as a son by me!
When I behold this fruit of thy regard,
The sculptured form of my old favourite bard,
I reverence feel for him, and love for thee.
The Solitary Lake
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
Ah! still a something strange and rare
O'errules this tranquil earth and air,
Casting o'er both a glamour known
To their enchanted realm alone;
Whence shines, as 'twere a spirit's face,
The sweet coy genius of the place,
The Rush-Bearing At Ambleside
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
SUMMER is come, with her leaves and her flowers—
Summer is come, with the sun on her hours;
The lark in the clouds, and the thrush on the bough,
And the dove in the thicket, make melody now.
The noon is abroad, but the shadows are cool
Where the green rushes grow in the dark forest pool.
The Fisherman
© Edgar Albert Guest
Along a stream that raced and ran
Through tangled trees and over stones,
That long had heard the pipes o' Pan
And shared the joys that nature owns,
I met a fellow fisherman,
Who greeted me in cheerful tones.
Trees are For Lovers
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Trees are for lovers.
A spirit has led them
Where the young boughs meet
And the green light hovers,
The Golden Whales Of California
© Vachel Lindsay
But what is the earthquake s cry at last
Making St. Francis yet aghast:
" Oh the flashing cornucopia of haughty
From here on, the audience California joins in the
