Poems begining by T
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The Anvil
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Burned from the ores rejected dross,
The iron whitens in the heat.
The Golden Gallery At Saint Pauls
© Robert Laurence Binyon
The Golden Gallery lifts its aery crown
O'er dome and pinnacle: there I leaned and gazed.
Is this indeed my own familiar town,
This busy dream? Beneath me spreading hazed
The Poem.
© Robert Crawford
These bones have life, and this heart knows
The poem that this hand has writ
The wind of God within it blows,
The light of God, too, shines in it.
The Price?
© Sant Tukaram
If you treat the opposite sex with reverence
will you pay a price?
If you stop your fault-finding and covetous ways
will your earnings not suffice?
The Long Vacation
© Katharine Tynan
This is the time the boys come home from school,
Filling the house with gay and happy noise,
Never at rest from morn till evening cool --
All the roads of the world bring home the boys.
The Poor
© Jones Very
I walk the streets and though not meanly drest,
Yet none so poor as can with me compare;
The Flame
© Ezra Pound
Sapphire Benacus, in thy mists and thee
Nature herself's turned metaphysical,
Who can look on that blue and not believe?
The Vanity of Human Wishes (excerpts)
© Samuel Johnson
45 Yet still one gen'ral cry the skies assails,
46 And gain and grandeur load the tainted gales,
47 Few know the toiling statesman's fear or care,
48 Th' insidious rival and the gaping heir.
The Waiting
© Belinda Subraman
Silence has no zen today.
Ambient freeway noise
from ? mile away,
the occasional Friday nighter
They have a little Odorthat to me
© Emily Dickinson
They have a little Odorthat to me
Is metrenay'tis melody
And spiciest at fadingindicate
A Habitof a Laureate
two south coast poems (a) this morning i came within sound of the sea
© Rg Gregory
for a man whose eyes till now were a bed of rock
whose hands were drier than deserts
the sea's voice drove fear up through the valley
the tributaries meandering inside me longing for outlet
shrivelled even as their own courses became straight
The Faithful Bird
© William Cowper
The greenhouse is my summer seat;
My shrubs displaced from that retreat
To an Intra-mural Rat
© Marianne Clarke Moore
You make me think of many men
Once met, to be forgot again
Or merely resurrected
In a parenthesis of wit
That found them hastening through it
Too brisk to be inspected.
The Palace Gate
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
The soldier closed the clanging palace gate
Upon the crowd who murmured still to wait.
"Take back your gifts, you may not pass," he said.
"Hear the bell tollthe little king is dead."
There Is a River We All Must Cross
© Henry Clay Work
There is a river we all must cross,
Thousands will pass it tomorrow;
Some will go down to its waters with joy,
Others with anguish and sorrow.
the eyes that haunt me
© Rg Gregory
there are eyes that refuse to exist
in the fresh air - they are invented
by the lies of paint or make their mark
in a memory that had a truth
to feed on but only by distortion
The Twins
© James Whitcomb Riley
One 's the pictur' of his Pa,
And the _other_ of her Ma--
Jes the bossest pair o' babies 'at a mortal ever saw!
And we love 'em as the bees
Loves the blossoms of the trees,
A-ridin' and a-rompin' in the breeze!
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. Prelude
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Then down the road, with mud besprent,
And drenched with rain from head to hoof,
The rain-drops dripping from his mane
And tail as from a pent-house roof,
A jaded horse, his head down bent,
Passed slowly, limping as he went.
