Poems begining by T
/ page 454 of 916 /
To Robert Browning
© Heather Fuller
There is delight in singing, tho’ none hear
Beside the singer; and there is delight
Teaching English from an Old Composition Book
© Gary Soto
My chalk is no longer than a chip of fingernail,
Chip by which I must explain this Monday
The Afterlife: Letter to Sam Hamill
© Hayden Carruth
You may think it strange, Sam, that I'm writing
a letter in these circumstances. I thought
Trust
© Lizette Woodworth Reese
I am thy grass, O Lord!
I grow up sweet and tall
But for a day; beneath Thy sword
To lie at evenfall.
To a Skylark
© André Breton
Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!
Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?
Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye
Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will,
Those quivering wings composed, that music still!
The Knife
© Jean Valentine
In my sleep:
Fell at his feet wanted to eat him right up
would have but
even better
he talked to me.
To the Infant Martyrs
© Richard Crashaw
Go, smiling souls, your new-built cages break,
In heaven you’ll learn to sing, ere here to speak,
Nor let the milky fonts that bathe your thirst
Be your delay;
The place that calls you hence is, at the worst,
Milk all the way.
Time Does Not Bring Relief: You All Have Lied
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
The Window
© Diane di Prima
you are my bread
and the hairline
noise
of my bones
you are almost
the sea
The Colonel
© Carolyn Forche
WHAT YOU HAVE HEARD is true. I was in his house. His wife carried
a tray of coffee and sugar. His daughter filed her nails, his son went
out for the night. There were daily papers, pet dogs, a pistol on the
cushion beside him. The moon swung bare on its black cord over
The Good Night and Good Morning of Federico Garcia Lorca
© David Wagoner
He knew he was asleep and was dreaming
Of a beautiful poem. It seemed to be singing
Theories of Time and Space
© Natasha Trethewey
You can get there from here, though
there’s no going home.
The Man Who Married Magdalene
© Louis Simpson
The man who married Magdalene
Had not forgiven her.
God might pardon every sin ...
Love is no pardoner.
To a Captive Owl
© Henry Timrod
I should be dumb before thee, feathered sage!
And gaze upon thy phiz with solemn awe,
But for a most audacious wish to gauge
The hoarded wisdom of thy learned craw.
The Barrel-Organ
© Alfred Noyes
Go down to Kew in lilac-time, in lilac-time, in lilac-time.
Go down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn’t far from London!),
And you shall wander hand in hand with love in summer’s wonderland.
Go down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn’t far from London!).
The Daring One
© Edwin Markham
He tosses gladly on the gale,
For well he knows he can not fail—
Knows if the bough breaks, still his wings
Will bear him upward while he sings!
The Dream
© Aphra Behn
‘Twas but a dream, yet by my heart I knew,
Which still was panting, part of it was true:
Oh how I strove the rest to have believed;
Ashamed and angry to be undeceived!
To De Witt Miller
© Eugene Field
Dear Miller: You and I despise
The cad who gathers books to sell 'em,
Be they but sixteen-mos in cloth
Or stately folios garbed in vellum.
