Poems begining by T
/ page 460 of 916 /
The Inn Of Earth
© Sara Teasdale
I came to the crowded Inn of Earth,
And called for a cup of wine,
But the Host went by with averted eye
From a thirst as keen as mine.
The Glories Of The Present
© Edgar Albert Guest
WHAT of the glories after death,
When this frail form gives up its breath?
The Portrait
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
This is her picture as she was:
It seems a thing to wonder on,
To The Honourable Mrs. Spencer, On Her Removing From Windsor To Rookly In Hampshire.
© Mary Barber
How does thy Manner to thy Words impart
Some won'drous Pow'r to gain upon the Heart,
Engaging All!--Beneficence we see,
Tho' fair Herself, yet owing Charms to Thee:
O fitted Thou for Spencer's Race, who scorn
To think they only for Themselves were born!
To G. M. W. And G. F. W.
© Ellis Parker Butler
Whenas(I love that "whenas" word
It shows I am a poet, too,)
The Sorrow of True Love ?
© Edward Thomas
The sorrow of true love is a great sorrow
And true love parting blackens a bright morrow:
The Telephone
© Harriet Monroe
Your voice, beloved, on the living wire,
Borne to me by the spirit powerful
The Idlers Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. October
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
GAMBLING AT MONACO
A jewelled kingdom set impregnable
In gardens green which front the violet sea,
A happy fortress shut and guarded well,
The Bench of Boors
© Arvind Krishna Mehrotra
In bed I muse on Tenier’s boors,
Embrowned and beery losels all:
A wakeful brain
Elaborates pain:
Within low doors the slugs of boors
Laze and yawn and doze again.
The Sad Shepherd's Passion of Love
© George Peele
O Gentle Love, ungentle for thy deed,
Thou makest my heart
The Ostrich-Punching of Arroyo Al
© Arthur Chapman
I was broke in Arizony, and was gloomy as a tomb
When I got a chance at punchin' for an outfit called Star-Plume;
I did n't ask no wherefores, but jest lit out with my tarp,
As happy as an angel with the newest make o' harp.
To David, About His Education
© Howard Nemerov
The world is full of mostly invisible things,
And there is no way but putting the mind’s eye,
The Mower to the Glow-Worms
© Andrew Marvell
Ye living lamps, by whose dear light
The nightingale does sit so late,
And studying all the summer night,
Her matchless songs does meditate;
The Storm
© Adam Mickiewicz
The rudder breaks, the sails are ripped, the roar
Of waters mingles with the ominous sound
The Children
© Mark Jarman
The children are hiding among the raspberry canes.
They look big to one another, the garden small.
The Things That Grow
© Robert Laurence Binyon
It was nothing but a little neglected garden,
Laurel--screened, and hushed in a hot stillness;
An old pear--tree, and flowers mingled with weeds.
Yet as I came to it all unawares, it seemed
The Clod and the Pebble
© William Blake
"Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair."
The Supper
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Blind Roger
Set the glass in my hand. I'm blind and old,
But still I shun to be left in the cold.
