Poems begining by T
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The Charter;
© Helen Maria Williams
ADDRESSED
TO MY NEPHEW
ATHANASE C. L. COQUEREL,
ON HIS WEDDING DAY, 1819.
The Way Home
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Many dreams I have dreamed
That are all now gone.
The world, mirrored in a dark pool,
How unearthly it shone!
The Microbe's Serenade
© George Ade
"O lovely metamorphic germ,
What futile scientific term
Can well describe your many charms?
Come to these embryonic arms,
Then hie away to my cellular home,
And be my little diatom!"
The Little Flock
© Katharine Tynan
CHRIST, now keep the little flock
Which Thou bad'st not to fear:
Childing women and old folk
And the little children dear.
The Blue Ridge
© Harriet Monroe
STILL and calm,
In purple robes of kings,
The low-lying mountains sleep at the edge of the world.
The forests cover them like mantles;
Day and night
Rise and fall over them like the wash of waves.
'Tis Said, That Some Have Died For Love
© William Wordsworth
'Tis said, that some have died for love:
And here and there a churchyard grave is found
The Fun Of Forgiving
© Edgar Albert Guest
Sometimes I'm almost glad to hear when I get home that they've been bad;
And though I try to look severe, within my heart I'm really glad
When mother sadly tells to me the list of awful things they've done,
Because when they come tearfully, forgiving them is so much fun.
The Delights Of Rungsted. An Ode
© Johannes Ewald
You shadows refreshing,
You darkness from roses now stealing;
To A Youth Who Wooed A Woman Older Than Himself
© Sappho
Friend, woo me not so earnestly.
Vain is thy prayer.
To My Bride (Whoever She May Be)
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Oh! little maid! - (I do not know your name
Or who you are, so, as a safe precaution
I'll add) - Oh, buxom widow! married dame!
(As one of these must be your present portion)
Listen, while I unveil prophetic lore for you,
And sing the fate that Fortune has in store for you.
The Sea Hath Its Pearls. (From The German Of Heinrich Heine)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The sea hath its pearls,
The heaven hath its stars;
But my heart, my heart,
My heart hath its love.
The Huron Chiefs Daughter
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
The dusky warriors stood in groups around the funeral pyre,
The scowl upon their knotted brows betrayed their vengeful ire.
It needed not the cords, the stake, the rites so stern and rude,
To tell it was to be a scene of cruelty and blood.
The Wonder-Working Magician - Act II
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
CYPRIAN. Ever wrangling in this way,
How ye both my patience try!
Why can he not go? Say why?
To Memory
© Thomas Sturge Moore
Thou dream of dreams, which most we can retrieve
And least forget, for thee dramatic truth
Drapes in fresh silks the tragedy of youth.
Yet as they act, our eyes, once blind, perceive
Much those performers are too fond to note
Till phantom sobs catch in a shrivelled throat.
The Castle Of Indolence
© James Thomson
The castle hight of Indolence,
And its false luxury;
Where for a little time, alas!
We lived right jollily.
The Bride
© Katharine Tynan
WEAVE me no wreath of orange blossom,
No bridal white shall me adorn;
I wear a red rose in my bosom;
To-morrow I shall wear the thorn.
The Gentle Water Bird (for Mary Gilmore)
© John Shaw Neilson
In the far days, when every day was long,
Fear was upon me and the fear was strong,
Ere I had learned the recompense of song.
The Water Crowvoot
© William Barnes
O' small-feäc'd flow'r that now dost bloom
To stud wi' white the shallow Frome,
