Poems begining by T
/ page 483 of 916 /The Homesteader
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
WIND-SWEPT and fire-swept and swept with bitter rain,
This was the world I came to when I came across the sea--
Sun-drenched and panting, a pregnant, waiting plain
Calling out to humankind, calling out to me!
The Toad And Spyder. A Duell
© Richard Lovelace
The all-confounded toad doth see
His life fled with his remedie,
And in a glorious despair
First burst himself, and next the air;
Then with a dismal horred yell
Beats down his loathsome breath to hell.
The Talented Man
© Winthrop Mackworth Praed
DEAR Alice! you'll laugh when you know it, --
Last week, at the Duchess's ball,
The Wheel Revolves
© Kenneth Rexroth
You were a girl of satin and gauze
Now you are my mountain and waterfall companion.
The Fair Youth Sonnets (18 - 77, 87 - 126)
© William Shakespeare
Comprising the largest grouping of poems, the Fair Youth sonnets are addressed to the same young man in the Procreation Sonnets. But their themes and subjects are more drastically varied.
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The Place for No Story
© Robinson Jeffers
The coast hills at Sovranes Creek;
No trees, but dark scant pasture drawn thin
The French Revolution as It Appeared to Enthusiasts at Its Commencement
© André Breton
Oh! pleasant exercise of hope and joy!
For mighty were the auxiliars which then stood
The Arrival
© Patricia Goedicke
Luggage first, the lining of his suit jacket dangling
As always, just when you’d given up hope
Nimbly he backs out of the taxi
The Young
© Roddy Lumsden
You bastards! It’s all sherbet, and folly
makes you laugh like mules. Chances
dance off your wrists, each day ready,
The Closed Door
© Madison Julius Cawein
SHUT it out of the heart this grief,
O Love, with the years grown old and hoary!
And let in joy that life is brief,
And give God thanks for the end of the story.
The Damned
© Roddy Lumsden
Kitten curious, or roaring down drinks
in Soho sumps, small hours tour buses,
satellite station green rooms, or conked
The Murder of William Remington
© Howard Nemerov
It is true, that even in the best-run state
Such things will happen; it is true,
What’s done is done. The law, whereby we hate
Our hatred, sees no fire in the flue
But by the smoke, and not for thought alone
It punishes, but for the thing that’s done.
The Bwoat
© William Barnes
Where cows did slowly seek the brink
O' _Stour_, drough zunburnt grass, to drink;
To Mrs. Leonard on The Death of Her Husband
© Phillis Wheatley
GRIM Monarch! see depriv'd of vital breath,
A young Physician in the dust of death!
To My Cottage
© John Clare
Thou lowly cot where first my breath I drew
Past joys endear thee childhoods past delight
The Cane-Bottom’d Chair
© William Makepeace Thackeray
In tattered old slippers that toast at the bars,
And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars,
Away from the world and its toils and its cares,
I’ve a snug little kingdom up four pair of stairs.
To the Terrestrial Globe
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Roll on, thou ball, roll on!
Through pathless realms of Space
The Brief Journey West
© Howard Nemerov
By the dry road the fathers cough and spit,
This is their room. They are the ones who hung
That bloody sun upon the southern wall
And crushed the armored beetle to the floor.
The Deserted Village
© Mark van Doren
Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain,
Where health and plenty cheared the labouring swain,