Poems begining by T
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The Warner
© Charles Baudelaire
Every man worth the name
has a yellow snake in his soul,
seated as on a throne, saying
if he cries: I want to!: No!
The Deserted Pasture
© Bliss William Carman
I love the stony pasture
That no one else will have.
The old gray rocks so friendly seem,
So durable and brave.
Three Jolly Huntsmen
© Jessie Pope
Three jolly, old huntsmen, Joe, Jerry, Jim,
Took lunch at "The Three Cornered Hat";
Now Jerry was lanky, but Joe wasn't slim,
And Jim was delightfully fat.
The Escape of the Old Grey Squirrel
© Alfred Noyes
All the same, one never knew.
All things come to those who wait -
Isles of palm in rose and blue,
India, China and Peru,
And the Golden Gate.
The Duel
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Oh many a duel the world has seen
That was bittter with hate, that was red with gore,
"Tiempo, tiempo"
© Cesar Vallejo
Mediodía estancado entre relentes.
Bomba aburrida del cuartel achica
tiempo tiempo tiempo tiempo.
The Deans Answer
© Jonathan Swift
The nymph who wrote this in an amorous fit,
I cannot but envy the pride of her wit,
Which thus she will venture profusely to throw
On so mean a design, and a subject so low.
The Borough. Letter XIV: Inhabitants Of The Alms-House. Life Of Blaney
© George Crabbe
ground:
He gave employ that might for bread suffice,
Correct his habits and restrain his vice.
Here Blaney tried (what such man's miseries
The Last Battle Of The Cid
© Ada Cambridge
Low he lay upon his dying couch, the knight without a stain,
The unconquered Cid Campeadór, the bright breastplate of Spain,
The incarnate honour of Castille, of Aragon and Navarre,
Very crown of Spanish chivalry, Rodrigo of Bivar!
The Battle Between The Rats And The Weazles
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
In dire Contest the Rats and Weazles met,
And Foot to Foot, and Point to Point was set:
The Runner
© Walt Whitman
ON a flat road runs the well-train'd runner;
He is lean and sinewy, with muscular legs;
He is thinly clothed-he leans forward as he runs,
With lightly closed fists, and arms partially rais'd.
Transformation: Sonnet
© Sri Aurobindo
I am no more a vassal of flesh,
A slave to Nature and her leaden rule;
I am caught no more in the senses narrow mesh.
My soul unhorizoned widens to measureless sight,
My body is Gods happy living tool,
My spirit a vast sun of deathless light.
Thoughts on Predestination and Reprobation : Part I.
© John Byrom
Flatter me not with your Predestination,
Nor sink my spirits with your Reprobation.
From all your high disputes I stand aloof,
Your Pres and Res, your Destiny, and your Proof;
And formal Calvinistical pretence,
That contradicts all Gospel, and good sense.
The Stockman
© David Campbell
The sun was in the summer grass,
the Coolibahs* were twisted steel;
the stockman paused beneath their shade
and sat upon his heel,
and with the reins looped through his arm
he rolled tobacco in his palm.
Torso of an Archaic Apollo
© Rainer Maria Rilke
Otherwise this stone would seem defaced
beneath the translucent cascade of the shoulders
and would not glisten like a wild beasts fur:
The Garden of Prosperine
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
From too much love of living,
From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be That no life lives for ever;
To Autumn
© Madison Julius Cawein
I oft have net thee, Autumn, wandering
Beside a misty stream, thy locks flung wild;
The Muscovy Duck
© Henry Lawson
THE ROOSTER is a brainless dude, although he sports a crest,
The hens an awful fool we know, though hen-eggs are the best;
