Poems begining by T
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Translated Out Of Gazaeus, "Vota Amico Facta," Fol. 160
© John Donne
GOD grant thee thine own wish, and grant thee mine,
Thou who dost, best friend, in best things outshine ;
The House Of Splendour
© Ezra Pound
Tis Evanoe's,
A house not made with hands,
But out somewhere beyond the worldly ways
Her gold is spread, above, around, inwoven;
Strange ways and walls are fashioned out of it.
The Rejoicings Of A Bridegroom
© Confucius
With axle creaking, all on fire I went,
To fetch my young and lovely bride.
No thirst or hunger pangs my bosom rent--
I only longed to have her by my side.
I feast with her, whose virtue fame had told,
Nor need we friends our rapture to behold.
The Wind-Child
© Enid Derham
MY FOLKS the wind-folk, its there I belong,
I tread the earth below them, and the earth does me wrong,
The Iron Cross
© Madison Julius Cawein
THEY pass, with heavy eyes and hair,
Before the Christ upon the Cross,
The Nations, stricken with their loss,
And lifting faces of despair.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: XII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
ON READING CERTAIN LETTERS
Reading these lines, this record of lost days
Where I am not, and yet where love has been,
This tale of passions consecrate to men
The Modest Couple
© William Schwenck Gilbert
When man and maiden meet, I like to see a drooping eye,
I always droop my own - I am the shyest of the shy.
I'm also fond of bashfulness, and sitting down on thorns,
For modesty's a quality that womankind adorns.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XLVII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
THE SAME CONTINUED
I see you, Juliet, still, with your straw hat
Loaded with vines, and with your dear pale face,
On which those thirty years so lightly sat,
The Singular Sangfroid Of Baby Bunting
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
Batholomew Benjamin Bunting
Had only three passions in life,
The Convivial Book - Can The Koran From Eternity Be?
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
'Tis worth not a thought!
Can the Koran a creation, then, be?
The Souls' Rising
© George MacDonald
See! see in yonder misty cloud
One whirlwind sweep, and we shall hear
The voice that waxes yet more loud
And louder still approaching near!
The Lady Of Rathmore Hall
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Throughout the country for many a mile
There is not a nobler, statelier pile
Than ivy crowned Rathmore Hall;
And the giant oaks that shadow the wold,
Though hollowed by time, are not as old
As its Norman turrets tall.
The Street-Children's Dance
© Mathilde Blind
NOW the earth in fields and hills
Stirs with pulses of the Spring,
Next-embowering hedges ring
With interminable trills;
Sunlight runs a race with rain,
All the world grows young again.
The Tulip Bed At Greeley Square
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
That bright triangle of scented bloom
That lies surrounded by grime and gloom?
The Epic Of Sadness
© Nizar Qabbani
Your love has taught me, my lady, the worst habits
it has taught me to read my coffee cups
thousands of times a night
to experiment with alchemy,
to visit fortune tellers
