Poems begining by T
/ page 338 of 916 /The Shepheardes Calender: December
© Edmund Spenser
I thee beseche (so be thou deigne to heare,
Rude ditties tund to shepheards Oaten reede,
Or if I euer sonet song so cleare,
As it with pleasaunce mought thy fancie feede)
Hearken awhile from thy greene cabinet,
The rurall song of carefull Colinet.
The First-Born
© Alaric Alexander Watts
Never did music sink into my soul
So âsilver sweet,â as when thy first weak wail
The Merryman and His Maid
© William Schwenck Gilbert
[HE] I have a song to sing, O!
[SHE] Sing me your song, O!
The Martyrdom Of St. Christina, By Vincenzo Catena, In The Church Of Santa Maria Mater Domini, At Ve
© Richard Monckton Milnes
ST. CHRISTINA.
(KNEELING.)
I knew, I knew, it would be so,
That, in this long--expected hour,
Trysting Time
© Confucius
A pretty girl at time o' gloaming
Hath whispered me to go and meet her
Without the city gate.
I love her, but she tarries coming.
Shall I return, or stay and greet her?
I burn, and wait.
Torto Volitans Sub Verbere Turbo Quem Pueri Magno In Gyro Vacua Atria Circum Intenti Ludo Exercent
© James Clerk Maxwell
Of pearies and their origin I sing:
How at the first great Jove the lord of air
The Last Coach
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Before her mirror in a pouting mood,
Afraid to weep lest anger should revoke
The Wild Colonial Boy
© Anonymous
'Tis of a wild Colonial Boy, Jack Doolan was his name,
Of poor but honest parents he was born in Castlemaine.
He was his father's only hope, his mother's pride and joy,
And dearly did his parents love the wild Colonial Boy.
The Worlds Exile
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Well, I will tell you, kind adviser,
Why thus I ever roam
In distant lands, nor wish to guide
My footsteps to the fair hill--side
Where stands my sacred home.
The Complaint of Chaucer to his Purse
© Geoffrey Chaucer
To yow, my purse, and to noon other wight
Complayne I, for ye be my lady dere!
Teddy O'Neale
© Eliza Cook
I've come to the cabin he danced his wild jigs in,
As neat a mud palace as ever was seen;
The Glory of the Day Was In Her Face
© James Weldon Johnson
The glory of the day was in her face,
The beauty of the night was in her eyes.
And over all her loveliness, the grace
Of Morning blushing in the early skies.
The Wind Of Spring
© Madison Julius Cawein
The wind that breathes of columbines
And celandines that crowd the rocks;
That shakes the balsam of the pines
With laughter from his airy locks,
Stops at my city door and knocks.
The Legend of the Foreign Office
© Rudyard Kipling
Rajah of Kolazai,
Drinketh the "simpkin" and brandy peg,
Maketh the money to fly,
Vexeth a Government, tender and kind,
Also - but this is a detail - blind.
The Floorless Room
© Gelett Burgess
I Wish that my Room had a Floor!
I don't so Much Care for a Door,
But this Crawling Around
Without Touching the Ground
Is Getting to be Quite a Bore!
The One I Think of Now by Wesley McNair: American Life in Poetry #100 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate
© Ted Kooser
Here the Maine poet, Wesley McNair, offers us a vivid description of a man who has lived beyond himself. I'd guess you won't easily forget this sad old man in his apron with his tray of cheese.
The One I Think of Now
To Thomas Moore
© George Gordon Byron
What are you doing now,
Oh Thomas Moore?
What are you doing now,
Oh Thomas Moore?
To A Solitary FirTree
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Fir, that on this moor austere,
Without kin or neighbour near,
Utterest now bleak winter's moan
As if its vext soul were thine own!
The Trout Map
© Allen Tate
The Management Area of Cherokee
National Forest, interested in fish,
Has mapped Tellico and Bald Rivers
And North River, with the tributaries
Brookshire Branch and Sugar Cove Creek:
A fishy map for facile fishery