Poems begining by T
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To His Mistress
© John Wilmot
Why dost thou shade thy lovely face? O why
Does that eclipsing hand of thine deny
The sunshine of the Suns enlivening eye?
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
© Christopher Marlowe
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
Tropics
© Ellen Bryant Voigt
In the still morning when you move
toward me in sleep for love,
I dream of
This Lime-tree Bower my Prison
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
[Addressed to Charles Lamb, of the India House, London]
Well, they are gone, and here must I remain,
To His Mistress Going to Bed
© John Donne
Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy,
Until I labour, I in labour lie.
To the Western World
© Louis Simpson
A siren sang, and Europe turned away
From the high castle and the shepherd’s crook.
Three caravels went sailing to Cathay
On the strange ocean, and the captains shook
Their banners out across the Mexique Bay.
The Shirt
© Jane Kenyon
The shirt touches his neck
and smooths over his back.
It slides down his sides.
It even goes down below his belt—
down into his pants.
Lucky shirt.
To Rosa
© Abraham Lincoln
You are young, and I am older;
You are hopeful, I am not
Enjoy life, ere it grow colder
Pluck the roses ere they rot.
The Skylark
© John Clare
The rolls and harrows lie at rest beside
The battered road; and spreading far and wide
The Bearer
© Hayden Carruth
Like all his people he felt at home in the forest.
The silence beneath great trees, the dimness there,
The House of Life: 36. Life-in-Love
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Even so much life hath the poor tress of hair
Which, stor'd apart, is all love hath to show
For heart-beats and for fire-heats long ago;
Even so much life endures unknown, even where,
'Mid change the changeless night environeth,
Lies all that golden hair undimm'd in death.
The Passions that we Fought with and Subdued
© Trumbull Stickney
The passions that we fought with and subdued
Never quite die. In some maimed serpent’s coil
They lurk, ready to spring and vindicate
That power was once our torture and our lord.
The Peacock at Alderton
© Geoffrey Hill
Nothing to tell why I cannot write
in re Nobody; nobody to narrate this
Tender Only to One
© Stevie Smith
Tender only to one
Tender and true
The petals swing
To my fingering
Is it you, or you, or you?
The Gardener 85
© Anselm Hollo
Who are you, reader, reading my poems an hundred years hence?
I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds.
Open your doors and look abroad.
The Herdsman
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
I'm herdsman of a flock.
The sheep are my thoughts
And my thoughts are all sensations.
I think with my eyes and my ears
And my hands and feet
And nostrils and mouth.
The Bamboo Ladder
© Pierre Reverdy
There once was a bamboo ladder.
It reached up to the sky.
And the Japanese man
Did tricks on the ladder
And said what a good man am I.
Thinking of Madame Bovary
© Jane Kenyon
The first hot April day the granite step
was warm. Flies droned in the grass.
When a car went past they rose
in unison, then dropped back down. . . .
