Poems begining by T
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To A Certain Critic
© George MacDonald
Such guests as you, sir, were not in my mind
When I my homely dish with care designed;
The Sunjust touched the Morning
© Emily Dickinson
The Sunjust touched the Morning
The MorningHappy thing
Supposed that He had come to dwell
And Life would all be Spring!
The Killing
© Edwin Muir
I was a stranger, could not read these people
Or this outlandish deity. Did a God
Indeed in dying cross my life that day
By chance, he on his road and I on mine?
To The Years
© Sara Teasdale
To-night I close my eyes and see
A strange procession passing me-
The years before I saw your face
Go by me with a wistful grace;
They pass, the sensitive shy years,
As one who strives to dance, half blind with tears.
The Coming By-and-By
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Silvered is the raven hair,
Spreading is the parting straight,
Mottled the complexion fair,
Halting is the youthful gait,
The Sea Wind
© Sara Teasdale
I am a pool in a peaceful place,
I greet the great sky face to face,
I know the stars and the stately moon
And the wind that runs with rippling shoon-
But why does it always bring to me
The far-off, beautiful sound of the sea?
To Build A Quiet City In His Mind
© Weldon Kees
To build a quiet city in his mind:
A single overwhelming wish; to build,
Not hastily, for there is so much wind,
So many eager smilers to be killed,
Obstructions one might overlook in haste:
The ruined structures cluttering the past,
The Laurustinus
© James Montgomery
Fair tree of winter! fresh and flowering,
When all around is dead and dry;
The Decay Of A People
© William Gilmore Simms
THIS the true sign of ruin to a race
It undertakes no march, and day by day
The Violet And The Rose
© Augusta Davies Webster
The violet in the wood, that's sweet to-day,
Is longer sweet than roses of red June;
The Friendly Greeting
© Edgar Albert Guest
Oh, we have friends in England, and we have friends in France,
And should we have to travel there through some strange circumstance,
Undaunted we should sail away, and gladly should we go,
Because awaiting us would be somebody that we know.
To My Readers
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
NAY, blame me not; I might have spared
Your patience many a trivial verse,
Yet these my earlier welcome shared,
So, let the better shield the worse.
Thou Also
© George MacDonald
Cry out upon the crime, and then let slip
The dogs of hate, whose hanging muzzles track
To My Sister
© Sarah Flower Adams
Were it not so, I dared not give to thee
These pages; for I know full well they ne'er
To the memory of my dear Daughter in Law, Mrs. Mercy Bradstreet, who deceased Sept. 6. 1669. in the
© Anne Bradstreet
And live I still to see Relations gone,
And yet survive to sound this wailing tone;
The Brother Of Mercy
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Piero Luca, known of all the town
As the gray porter by the Pitti wall
Where the noon shadows of the gardens fall,
Sick and in dolor, waited to lay down
His last sad burden, and beside his mat
The barefoot monk of La Certosa sat.
The Golden Legend: V. A Covered Bridge At Lucerne
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Prince Henry_ The grim musician
Leads all men through the mazes of that dance,
To different sounds in different measures moving;
Sometimes he plays a lute, sometimes a drum,
To tempt or terrify.
