Poems begining by T
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Testing on Steel and Glass
© Carl Rakosi
Well put, anatomist.
We are all careful, men of earth
(a blind man can sense a post).
Taking Down the Tree
© Jane Kenyon
"Give me some light!" cries Hamlet's
uncle midway through the murder
of Gonzago. "Light! Light!" cry scattering
courtesans. Here, as in Denmark,
it's dark at four, and even the moon
shines with only half a heart.
Ten Thousand to One
© Wole Soyinka
The Phoenicians guarded a recipe that required
ten thousand murex shells to make
an ounce of Tyrian purple.
The Tongues We Speak
© Patricia Goedicke
I have arrived here after taking many steps
Over the kitchen floors of friends and through their lives.
The Temper (I)
© George Herbert
How should I praise thee, Lord! How should my rhymes
Gladly engrave thy love in steel,
If what my soul doth feel sometimes,
My soul might ever feel!
The Cold Heaven
© William Butler Yeats
Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting heaven
That seemed as though ice burned and was but the more ice,
The Great Blue Heron
© John Betjeman
M.A.K. September, 1880-September, 1955
As I wandered on the beach
The Death of Lincoln
© William Cullen Bryant
Oh, slow to smite and swift to spare,
Gentle and merciful and just!
To Elizabeth, Countess of Rutland
© Benjamin Jonson
That poets are far rarer births than kings
Your noblest father proved; like whom before,
To the Returned Girls
© Edwin Morgan
Will you read my little pome,
O you girls returnèd home
From a summertime of sport
At the Jolliest Resort,
From a Heated Term of joys
Far from urban dust and noise?
The Watchers
© William Stanley Braithwaite
Two women on the lone wet strand
(The wind's out with a will to roam)
The waves wage war on rocks and sand,
(And a ship is long due home.)
The Rebel
© Hilaire Belloc
There is a wall of which the stones
Are lies and bribes and dead men's bones.
And wrongfully this evil wall
Denies what all men made for all,
And shamelessly this wall surrounds
Our homesteads and our native grounds.
The Corn Baby
© Mark Wunderlich
They brought it. It was brought
from the field, the last sheaf, the last bundle
Toth Farry
© Sharon Olds
In the back of the charm-box, in a sack, the baby
canines and incisors are mostly chaff,
The Canterbury Tales: General Prologue
© Geoffrey Chaucer
But for to tellen yow of his array,
His hors weren goode, but he was nat gay;
Of fustian he wered a gypon
Al bismótered with his habergeon;
For he was late y-come from his viage,
And wente for to doon his pilgrymage.
The Horrid Voice of Science
© Roald Dahl
"There's machinery in the butterfly;
There's a mainspring to the bee;
There's hydraulics to a daisy,
And contraptions to a tree.
The Lover: A Ballad
© Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
At length, by so much importunity press'd,
Take, C, at once, the inside of my breast;
The Secret Garden
© Rita Dove
I was ill, lying on my bed of old papers,
when you came with white rabbits in your arms;
and the doves scattered upwards, flying to mothers,
and the snails sighed under their baggage of stone . . .
The Swamp Angel
© Arvind Krishna Mehrotra
Is this the proud City? the scorner
Which never would yield the ground?
Which mocked at the coal-black Angel?
The cup of despair goes round.
