Poems begining by T
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The Funny Kittens
© Carolyn Wells
Once there were some silly kittens,
And they knitted woolly mittens
To bestow upon the freezing Hottentots.
But the Hottentots refused them,
Saying that they never used them
Unless crocheted of red with yellow spots.
To B. R. Haydon
© William Wordsworth
HIGH is our calling, Friend!--Creative Art
(Whether the instrument of words she use,
Or pencil pregnant with ethereal hues,)
Demands the service of a mind and heart,
The Art Of War. Book VI.
© Henry James Pye
If chiefs like these in combat vers'd have found
Their honors fade as fortune sudden frown'd,
If they have fall'n from fortune's giddy height,
What can ye hope yet novices in fight?
Scarce wean'd by fierce Bellona's fostering arms,
Young in the field, and new to War's alarms.
The Sermon Of The Rose
© James Whitcomb Riley
Wilful we are in our infirmity
Of childish questioning and discontent.
The General Elliott
© Robert Graves
He fell in victory's fierce pursuit,
Holed through and through with shot,
A sabre sweep had hacked him deep
Twixt neck and shoulderknot....
The Hangman
© Anne Sexton
Reasonable, reasonable, reasonable…we walked through
ten different homes, they always call them homes,
Transcience
© Sarojini Naidu
Nay, do not grieve tho' life be full of sadness,
Dawn will not veil her spleandor for your grief,
Nor spring deny their bright, appointed beauty
To lotus blossom and ashoka leaf.
To The God of Pain
© Sarojini Naidu
For thy dark altars, balm nor milk nor rice,
But mine own soul thou'st ta'en for sacrifice:
To My Fairy Fancies
© Sarojini Naidu
NAY, no longer I may hold you,
In my spirit's soft caresses,
Nor like lotus-leaves enfold you
In the tangles of my tresses.
To My Children
© Sarojini Naidu
Jaya SuryaGOLDEN sun of victory, born
In my life's unclouded morn,
In my lambent sky of love,
May your growing glory prove
To India
© Sarojini Naidu
O YOUNG through all thy immemorial years!
Rise, Mother, rise, regenerate from thy gloom,
And, like a bride high-mated with the spheres,
Beget new glories from thine ageless womb!
The Song Of Princess Zeb-Un-Nissa In Praise Of Her Own Beauty
© Sarojini Naidu
WHEN from my cheek I lift my veil,
The roses turn with envy pale,
And from their pierced hearts, rich with pain,
Send forth their fragrance like a wail.
The Royal Tombs Of Golconda
© Sarojini Naidu
I MUSE among these silent fanes
Whose spacious darkness guards your dust;
Around me sleep the hoary plains
That hold your ancient wars in trust.
The Pardah Nashin
© Sarojini Naidu
HER life is a revolving dream
Of languid and sequestered ease;
Her girdles and her fillets gleam
Like changing fires on sunset seas;
Her raiment is like morning mist,
Shot opal, gold and amethyst.
The Holly-Tree
© Robert Southey
O reader! hast thou ever stood to see
The Holly-tree?
The eye that contemplates it well perceives
Its glossy leaves
Ordered by an Intelligence so wise
As might confound the Atheist's sophistries.
The Indian Gipsy
© Sarojini Naidu
IN tattered robes that hoard a glittering trace
Of bygone colours, broidered to the knee,
Behold her, daughter of a wandering race,
Tameless, with the bold falcon's agile grace,
And the lithe tiger's sinuous majesty.
The Past
© Louisa Stuart Costello
I have number'd all the sorrows this tortured heart has
known;
I have counted each delight I would ever call my own;
But the moments are so woven, that the guiding clew is
gone,
And the sorrow and the pleasure blended into one.
To A Happy Warrior
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Glory to God who made a man like this!
To God be praise who in the empty heaven
Set Earth's gay globe
With its green vesture given
To A Critic
© Madison Julius Cawein
Song hath a catalogue of lovely things
Thy kind hath oft defiled,--whose spite misleads
