Poems begining by T
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The Mock Song
© John Wilmot
I swive as well as others do,
I’m young, not yet deformed,
My tender heart, sincere, and true,
Deserves not to be scorned.
The Sleigh-Bells
© Susanna Moodie
Tis merry to hear, at evening time,
By the blazing hearth the sleigh-bells chime;
The Love of the World Reproved: or, Hypocrisy Detected
© William Cowper
Thus says the prophet of the Turk;
Good musselman, abstain from pork!
The Executive’s Death
© Robert Bly
Merchants have multiplied more than the stars of heaven.
Half the population are like the long grasshoppers
The End
© Mark Strand
Not every man knows what he shall sing at the end,
Watching the pier as the ship sails away, or what it will seem like
When he’s held by the sea’s roar, motionless, there at the end,
Or what he shall hope for once it is clear that he’ll never go back.
The Crystal Lithium
© James Schuyler
The smell of snow, stinging in nostrils as the wind lifts it from a beach
Eve-shuttering, mixed with sand, or when snow lies under the street lamps and on all
The Weird Lady
© Charles Kingsley
The swevens came up round Harold the Earl,
Like motes in the sunnes beam;
And over him stood the Weird Lady,
In her charmed castle over the sea,
Sang 'Lie thou still and dream.'
The Unthinkable
© Simon Armitage
A huge purple door washed up in the bay overnight,
its paintwork blistered and peeled from weeks at sea.
The Spire
© Ellen Bryant Voigt
In the Bavarian steeple, on the hour,
two figures emerge from their scalloped house
The Ballad of Reading Gaol
© Oscar Wilde
He walked amongst the Trial Men
In a suit of shabby gray;
A cricket cap was on his head,
And his step seemed light and gay;
But I never saw a man who looked
So wistfully at the day.
The Reef
© Aldous Huxley
My green aquarium of phantom fish,
Goggling in on me through the misty panes;
My rotting leaves and fields spongy with rains;
My few clear quiet autumn days--I wish
The Song of Right and Wrong
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Feast on wine or fast on water
And your honour shall stand sure,
The "William P. Frye"
© Jeanne Robert Foster
I saw her first abreast the Boston Light
At anchor; she had just come in, turned head,
And sent her hawsers creaking, clattering down.
I was so near to where the hawse-pipes fed
The Scamps
© Henry Lawson
Of home, name and wealth and ambition bereft
We are children of fortune and luck:
The Wild Geese
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
"Wild geese are very numerous in this district, especially around Lough Esknahinny." Cork Examiner, December , .
I walked by Esknahinny at the waning of the moon,
