Poems begining by T
/ page 407 of 916 /The Geraldines
© Thomas Osborne Davis
Ye Geraldines! Ye Geraldines! How royally ye reigned
O'er Desmond broad and rich Kildare, and English arts disdained;
Your sword made knights, your banner waved, free was your bugle call
By Glyn's green slopes, and Dingle's tide, from Barrow's banks to
Eochaill,
What gorgeous shrines, what Brehon lore, what minstrel feasts there were
The Indiscreet Confessions
© Jean de La Fontaine
BLITHE Damon for her having felt the dart,
The belle received the offer of his heart;
So well he managed and expressed his flame.
That soon her lord and master he became,
By Hymen's right divine, you may conceive,
And nothing short of it you should believe.
The Immigrant
© Lesbia Harford
When Gertie came in
To work today
She was much less weary
And far more gay.
The Roll Of The Kettledrum; Or, The Lay Of The Last Charger
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
"You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet,
Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?
Of two such lessons, why forget
The nobler and the manlier one?" - Byron.
Transposed Seasons
© Madison Julius Cawein
THE gentian and the bluebell so
Can change my calendar,
I know not how the year may go,
Or what the seasons are:
The Bludy Serk
© Robert Henryson
Thair dwelt alyt besyde the king
A fowll gyane of ane
Stollin he hes the lady ying
Away with hir is gane
The Fruit-Gift
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Last night, just as the tints of autumn's sky
Of sunset faded from our hills and streams,
I sat, vague listening, lapped in twilight dreams,
To the leaf's rustle, and the cricket's cry.
The Falconer Of God
© Stephen Vincent Benet
I flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying.
I said, Wait on, wait on, while I ride below!
The Sleeper In The Valley
© Arthur Rimbaud
Its a green hollow where a river sings
Madly catching white tatters in the grass.
Where the sun on the proud mountain rings:
Its a little valley, foaming like light in a glass.
The City Limits
© Archie Randolph Ammons
When you consider the radiance, that it does not withhold
itself but pours its abundance without selection into every
nook and cranny not overhung or hidden; when you consider
Thoughts of Phena at the News of Her Death
© Thomas Hardy
Not a line of her writing have I
Not a thread of her hair,
The Three Copecks
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
CROUCHED low in a sordid chamber,
With a cupboard of empty shelves,
Half starved, and, alas, unable
To comfort or help themselves,
The Fairy Clock
© Virna Sheard
Silver clock! O silver clock! tell to me the time o' day!
Is there yet a little hour left for us to work and play?
Tell me when the sun will set--tiny globe of silver-grey.
Thee will I praise, O Lord, in light,
© James Montgomery
Thee will I praise, O Lord, in light,
Where seraphim surround thy throne;
With heart and soul, with mind and might,
Thee will I worship, Thee alone.
The Creature's Stare
© Franz Werfel
You stroke the fur of the big fine dog.
Looking way down into its eyes, you speak,
Pointing out for me the enormous sorrow
That's continuously fixed upon us.
The Malefactor's Plea
© James Kenneth Stephen
Of sentences that stir my bile,
Of phrases I detest,
There's one beyond all others vile;
"He did it for the best."
The Heroic Enthusiasts - Part The First =Fourth Dialogue.=
© Giordano Bruno
CIC. I do not believe that he makes a comparison, nor puts as the same
kind the divine and the human mode of comprehending, which are very
diverse, but as to the subject they are the same.
Three Songs
© William Shakespeare
Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands:
Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd,--
The wild waves whist--