Poems begining by T
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The Winds Of War-News
© Henry Van Dyke
The winds of war-news change and veer:
Now westerly and full of cheer,
The Summer Sea
© Charles Kingsley
Soft soft wind, from out the sweet south sliding,
Waft thy silver cloud webs athwart the summer sea;
Thin thin threads of mist on dewy fingers twining
Weave a veil of dappled gauze to shade my babe and me.
The Lark Ascending
© George Meredith
He rises and begins to round,
He drops the silver chain of sound
The children of the Mist
© Frank Dalby Davison
Through the valleys, softly creeping
Mid the tree-tops, tempest-tossed,
Thoughts on Predestination and Reprobation : Part II.
© John Byrom
Pagan - said I - I must retract the word,
For the poor Pagans were not so absurd:
The Torments Of Love
© Sappho
O Queens of Song, descend from your home.
From the golden halls of Olumpus on high!
The Dreamer Of Dreams
© Conrad Aiken
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
The Crusader
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
They pointed him to a barren plain,
Where his father, his brothers, his kinsmen were slain;
They shewed him the lowly grave, where slept
The maiden, whose scarf he so truly had kept;
But they could not shew him one living thing,
To which his withered heart could cling -
To Bayard Taylor Beyond Us
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
AS here within I watch the fervid coals,
While the chill heavens without shine wanly white,
I wonder, friend! in what rare realm of souls,
You hail the uprising Christmas-tide to-night!
TO Mr. Samuel Brooke
© John Donne
O THOU which to search out the secret parts
Of the India, or rather Paradise
To A Friend In Distress (Translated From Owen)
© William Cowper
I wish thy lot, now bad, still worse, my friend;
For when at worst, they say, things always mend.
The New Cake Of Soap
© Ezra Pound
Lo, how it gleams and glistens in the sun
Like the cheek of a Chesterton.
The Tarry Buccaneer
© John Masefield
I'm going to be a pirate with a bright brass pivot-gun,
And an island in the Spanish Main beyond the setting sun,
And a silver flagon full of red wine to drink when work is done,
Like a fine old salt-sea scavenger, like a tarry Buccaneer.
The Guardian Of The Red Disk
© Emma Lazarus
Spoken by a Citizen of Malta-1300.
A curious title held in high repute,
The Miller's Maid
© Robert Bloomfield
Near the high road upon a winding stream
An honest Miller rose to Wealth and Fame:
The noblest Virtues cheer'd his lengthen'd days,
And all the Country echo'd with his praise:
His Wife, the Doctress of the neighb'ring Poor,
Drew constant pray'rs and blessings round his door.
The New Aspasia
© Muriel Stuart
I knew you as I knew these happy things,
Passing, unwept, on wide and tranquil wings
To their own place in nature; below, above
Transient passion with its stains and stings.
For this strange pity that you knew not of
Was neither lust nor love.
The Tides
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I saw the long line of the vacant shore,
The sea-weed and the shells upon the sand,
To hang our headostensibly
© Emily Dickinson
To hang our headostensibly
And subsequent, to find
That such was not the posture
Of our immortal mind
The Aged Patriarch
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Of life's past woes, the fading trace
Hath given that aged patriarch's face
Expression, holy, deep, resign'd,
The calm sublimity of mind.
The Hill.
© Robert Crawford
The holy lamps of Evening shine
Sheer in the West the air is still
As I sit with this heart of mine
At the foot of Parnassus' hill.
