Poems begining by T
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To Sappho I
© Sara Teasdale
Impassioned singer of the happy time.
When all the world was waking into morn,
And dew still glistened on the tangled thorn,
And lingered on the branches of the lime
The Wind that Shakes the Barley
© Katharine Tynan
There's music in my heart all day,
I hear it late and early,
It comes from fields are far away,
The wind that shakes the barley.
The Nurse
© Katharine Tynan
Such innocent companionship
Is hers, whether she wake or sleep,
'Tis scarcely strange her face should wear
The young child's grave and innocent air.
The Legend of St. Austin and the Child
© Katharine Tynan
St. Austin, going in thought
Along the sea-sands gray,
Into another world was caught,
And Carthage far away.
The Foggy Dew
© Katharine Tynan
A splendid place is London, with golden store,
For them that have the heart and hope and youth galore;
But mournful are its streets to me, I tell you true,
For I'm longing sore for Ireland in the foggy dew.
The Doves
© Katharine Tynan
The house where I was born,
Where I was young and gay,
Grows old amid its corn,
Amid its scented hay.
The Children of Lir
© Katharine Tynan
Out upon the sand-dunes thrive the coarse long grasses;
Herons standing knee-deep in the brackish pool;
Overhead the sunset fire and flame amasses
And the moon to eastward rises pale and cool.
The Dark Stag
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
A startled stag, the blue-grey Night,
Leaps down beyond black pines.
The Task: Book II. -- The Time-Piece
© William Cowper
In man or woman, but far most in man,
And most of all in man that ministers
And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe
All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn;
Object of my implacable disgust.
To A Cloud
© William Cullen Bryant
Beautiful cloud! with folds so soft and fair,
Swimming in the pure quiet air!
Thy fleeces bathed in sunlight, while below
Thy shadow o'er the vale moves slow;
The Skies
© William Cullen Bryant
Ay! gloriously thou standest there,
Beautiful, boundless firmament!
That swelling wide o'er earth and air,
And round the horizon bent,
With thy bright vault, and sapphire wall,
Dost overhang and circle all.
The Death of the Flowers
© William Cullen Bryant
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere.
Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead;
They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread;
The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay,
And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.
The Dance
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Heel and toe, heel and toe,
That is the song we sing;
Turn to your partner and curtsey low,
Balance and forward and swing.
Corners are draughty and meadows are white,
This is the game for a winter's night.
The Undertaking
© John Donne
I have done one braver thing
Than all the Worthies did,
And yet a braver thence doth spring,
Which is, to keep that hid.
The Voyage Of The 'Ophir'
© George Meredith
Men of our race, we send you one
Round whom Victoria's holy name
The Lamp Of Poor Souls
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
Cradled is he, with half his prayers forgot.
I cannot learn the level way he goes.
He whom the harvest hath remembered not
Sleeps with the rose.
The Living Lost
© William Cullen Bryant
Weep, ye who sorrow for the dead,
Thus breaking hearts their pain relieve;
And graceful are the tears ye shed,
And honoured ye who grieve.
The Constellations
© William Cullen Bryant
O constellations of the early night,
That sparkled brighter as the twilight died,
And made the darkness glorious! I have seen
Your rays grow dim upon the horizon's edge,
