Poems begining by T
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The Magic Shoes
© Charles Godfrey Leland
IT was stiller, dimmer twilight - amber toornin' into gold,
Like young maidens' hairs get yellow und more dark as dey crow old;
Und dere shtood a high ruine vhere de Donau rooshed along,
All lofely, yet neclected - like an oldt und silent song.
The Woman In The Temple
© George MacDonald
A still dark joy! A sudden face!
Cold daylight, footsteps, cries!
The temple's naked, shining space,
Aglare with judging eyes!
The Llama
© Hilaire Belloc
The Llama is a wooly sort of fleecy hairy goat,
With an indolent expression and an undulating throat
Like an unsuccessful literary man.
The Visible Creation
© James Montgomery
The God of nature and of grace
In all His works appears;
His goodness through the earth we trace,
His grandeur in the spheres.
Two Years Later
© William Butler Yeats
HAS no one said those daring
Kind eyes should be more learn'd?
To Mr. Henry Lawes
© Katherine Philips
Nature, which is the vast creation’s soul,
That steady curious agent in the whole,
The Triumph of Time
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
Before our lives divide for ever,
While time is with us and hands are free,
The House of Life: 22. Heart's Haven
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
And Love, our light at night and shade at noon,
Lulls us to rest with songs, and turns away
All shafts of shelterless tumultuous day.
Like the moon's growth, his face gleams through his tune;
And as soft waters warble to the moon,
Our answering spirits chime one roundelay.
The Unnamed Lake
© Frederick George Scott
It sleeps among the thousand hills
Where no man ever trod,
The Goddess In The Wood
© Rupert Brooke
Till a swift terror broke the abrupt hour.
The gold waves purled amidst the green above her;
And a bird sang. With one sharp-taken breath,
By sunlit branches and unshaken flower,
The immortal limbs flashed to the human lover,
And the immortal eyes to look on death.
The Fable
© Yvor Winters
Beyond the steady rock the steady sea,
In movement more immovable than station,
The Amenities
© Heather McHugh
I owe you an explanation.
My first memory isn’t your own
of an empty box. My babyhood cabinets held
a countlessness of cakes, my backyard
rotted into apple glut, windfalls of
money-tree, mouthfuls of fib.
There Is a Safe and Secret Place
© Henry Francis Lyte
There is a safe and secret place,
Beneath the wings divine,
Reserved for all the heirs of grace;
O be that refuge mine!
