Poems begining by T
/ page 445 of 916 /
The Dictionary of Silence
© Debora Greger
And in that city the houses of the dead
are left empty, if the dead are famous enough;
by day the living pay to see if dust is all
that befalls the lives they left behind.
The Flower-Fed Buffaloes
© Roald Dahl
The flower-fed buffaloes of the spring
In the days of long ago,
Thoughts about the Person from Porlock
© Stevie Smith
Coleridge received the Person from Porlock
And ever after called him a curse,
Then why did he hurry to let him in?
He could have hid in the house.
The Old Meeting House
© Alfred Noyes
(new jersey, 1918)
Its quiet graves were made for peace till Gabriel blows his horn.
Those wise old elms could hear no cry
Of all that distant agony
Only the red-winged blackbird, and the rustle of thick ripe corn.
The Redshifting Web
© Wole Soyinka
5 Moored off Qingdao, before sunrise,
the pilot of a tanker is selling dismantled bicycles.
Once, a watchmaker coated numbers on the dial
They Sit Together on the Porch
© Wendell Berry
They sit together on the porch, the dark
Almost fallen, the house behind them dark.
The Way to the River
© William Stanley Merwin
The way to the river leads past the names of
Ash the sleeves the wreaths of hinges
Through the song of the bandage vendor
To Wordsworth
© Victor Séjour
There is a strain to read among the hills,
The old and full of voices by the source
Of some free stream, whose gladdening presence fills
The solitude with sound; for in its course
Even such is thy deep song, that seems a part
Of those high scences, a fountain from the heart.
There Came a Soul
© Rita Dove
After IVAN ALBRIGHT’s Into the World There Came a Soul Called Ida
She arrived as near to virginal
The Loneliness of the Military Historian
© Margaret Atwood
But it’s no use asking me for a final statement.
As I say, I deal in tactics.
Also statistics:
for every year of peace there have been four hundred
years of war.
The True Born Englishman
© Daniel Defoe
Which medly cantond in a heptarchy,
A rhapsody of nations to supply,
Among themselves maintaind eternal wars,
And still the ladies lovd the conquerors.
The Lady’s Dressing Room
© Jonathan Swift
Five hours, (and who can do it less in?)
By haughty Celia spent in dressing;
The Moon is distant from the Sea (387)
© Emily Dickinson
The Moon is distant from the Sea
And yet, with Amber Hands
She leads Him docile as a Boy
Along appointed Sands
To the Muse
© James Wright
I would lie to you
If I could.
But the only way I can get you to come up
Out of the suckhole, the south face
Of the Powhatan pit, is to tell you
What you know:
The Poster Girl’s Defence
© Carolyn Wells
It was an Artless Poster Girl pinned up against my wall,
She was tremendous ugly, she was exceeding tall;
I was gazing at her idly, and I think I must have slept,
For that poster maiden lifted up her poster voice, and wept.
