Poems begining by T
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To Rafael
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Thine was the scheme, and worthy to be thine,
O Painter--Poet! with care and regu'lar toil,
To raise those marvels from the' entombing soil
With which Greek Art made Rome a place divine.
The Model
© Harriet Monroe
Have you forgottenyou, the chief,
The art-director, president,
What not, of the establishment
Forgot how for a moment brief
The whole show, all our strife and stir,
Went outfor her?
Threnody
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
Upon your hearse this flower I lay
Brief be your sleep! You shall be known
When lesser men have had their day:
Fame blossoms where true seed is sown,
Or soon or late, let Time wound what it may.
The Reveille
© Francis Bret Harte
Hark! I hear the tramp of thousands,
And of armed men the hum;
Lo! a nation`s hosts have gathered
Round the quick alarming drum,--
The Cataract of Lodore
© Robert Southey
And glittering and frittering,
And gathering and feathering,
And whitening and brightening,
And quivering and shivering,
And hurrying and skurrying,
And thundering and floundering;
The Best School of All
© Sir Henry Newbolt
It's good to see the school we knew,
the land of youth and dream.
To greet again the rule we knew,
before we took the stream.
The Captive
© James Russell Lowell
It was past the hour of trysting,
But she lingered for him still;
Like a child, the eager streamlet
Leaped and laughed adown the hill,
Happy to be free at twilight
From its toiling at the mill.
"That now is hay some-tyme was grase"
© John Lydgate
Who clymbeth hyest gothe ofte base,
Ensample in medowes thow mayst se
That nowe is heye some tyme was grase.
The Friends of Fallen Fortunes
© Henry Lawson
The battlefield behind us,
And night loomed on the track;
The Shade Of Theseus - Ancient Greek Tradition
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
When banners caught the breeze,
When helms in sunlight shone,
When masts were on the seas,
And spears on Marathon.
The Refugees
© Grace Hazard Conkling
MOTHER, the poplars cross the moon;
The road runs on, so white and far,
The Way Of The Bush
© Alice Guerin Crist
A night of storm and wind and rain,
Tall trees bowing beneath the blast
That shakes and rattles the window-pane,
And a thunderous roar as the creek goes past.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. Interlude III.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Thus ran the Student's pleasant rhyme
Of Eginhard and love and youth;
The Stranger's Friend
© Henry Lawson
It is true to the region of adjectives when I say that the spree was grim,
For to go on the spree was a sacred rite, or a heathen rite, to him,
To shout for the travellers passing through to the land where the lost soul bakes
Till they all seemed devils of different breeds, and his pockets were filled with snakes.
Topsy-Turvy World
© William Brighty Rands
IF the butterfly courted the bee,
And the owl the porcupine;
The Golden Year!
© Alfred Austin
When piped the love-warm throstle shrill,
And all the air was laden
