Poems begining by T
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This Hour and What Is Dead
© Li-Young Lee
God, that old furnace, keeps talking
with his mouth of teeth,
a beard stained at feasts, and his breath
of gasoline, airplane, human ash.
His love for me feels like fire,
feels like doves, feels like river-water.
The Knight Of Toggenburg
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
. "I Can love thee well, believe me,
As a sister true;
The Mothering Blackness
© Jon Anderson
She came home running
back to the mothering blackness
deep in the smothering blackness
white tears icicle gold plains of her face
She came home running
There Was One
© Dorothy Parker
There was one a-riding grand
On a tall brown mare,
And a fine gold band
He brought me there.
To John Donne
© Benjamin Jonson
Donne, the delight of Phoebus and each Muse
Who, to thy one, all other brains refuse;
To-- Oh! there are spirits of the air
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Oh! there are spirits of the air,
And genii of the evening breeze,
And gentle ghosts, with eyes as fair
As star-beams among twilight trees:
Such lovely ministers to meet
Oft hast thou turned from men thy lonely feet.
The Candidate
© Charles Churchill
This poem was written in , on occasion of the contest between the
Earls of Hardwicke and Sandwich for the High-stewardship of the
To the Memory of My Beloved the Author, Mr. William Shakespeare
© Benjamin Jonson
To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name,
Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;
The Annihilation of Nothing
© Thom Gunn
Nothing remained: Nothing, the wanton name
That nightly I rehearsed till led away
To a dark sleep, or sleep that held one dream.
The Shepherds Calendar - January- Winters Day
© John Clare
Withering and keen the winter comes
While comfort flyes to close shut rooms
And sees the snow in feathers pass
Winnowing by the window glass
The Love Of Narcissus
© Alice Meynell
His dreams are far among the silent hills;
His vague voice calls him from the darkened plain
With winds at night; strange recognition thrills
His lonely heart with piercing love and pain;
He knows his sweet mirth in the mountain rills,
His weary tears that touch him with the rain.
To the Blank Spaces
© William Stanley Merwin
For longer than by now I can believe
I assumed that you had nothing to do
with each other I thought you had arrived
whenever that had been
The God Of The Poor
© William Morris
There was a lord that hight Maltete,
Among great lords he was right great,
On poor folk trod he like the dirt,
None but God might do him hurt.
Deus est Deus pauperum.
The Made to Order Smile
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
When a woman looks up at you with a twist about her eyes,
And her brows are half uplifted in a nicely feigned surprise
As you breathe some pretty sentence, though she hates you all the while,
She is very apt to stun you with a made to order smile.
The Wanderer: A Vision: Canto III
© Richard Savage
Ye traytors, tyrants, fear his stinging lay!
Ye pow'rs unlov'd, unpity'd in decay!
But know, to you sweet-blossom'd Fame he brings,
Ye heroes, patriots, and paternal kings!
The Common Touch
© Edgar Albert Guest
I would not be too wiseso very wise
That I must sneer at simple songs and creeds,
