Poems begining by T

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The First Easter

© Edgar Albert Guest

Dead they left Him in the tomb
And the impenetrable gloom,
Rolled the great stone to the door,
Dead, they thought, forevermore.

The Knight's Epitaph

© William Cullen Bryant

This is the church which Pisa, great and free,

Reared to St. Catharine. How the time-stained walls,

Twins

© William Henry Drummond

I congratulate ye, Francis,

And more power to yer wife--

To Toussaint LOuverture

© William Wordsworth

TOUSSAINT, the most unhappy man of men!
Whether the whistling Rustic tend his plough
Within thy hearing, or thy head be now
Pillowed in some deep dungeon's earless den;--

The Scholar-Gipsy

© Matthew Arnold

Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill;

Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes!

To a Lady on the Death of Her Husband

To join for ever on the hills of light:
To thine embrace this joyful spirit moves
To thee, the partner of his earthly loves;
He welcomes thee to pleasures more refin'd,
And better suited to th' immortal mind.

The Way To Heaven

© John Hay

One day the Sultan, grand and grim,
Ordered the Mufti brought to him.
"Now let thy wisdom solve for me
The question I shall put to thee.

The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXVII

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

THE SAME CONTINUED
Your youth flowed on, a river chaste and fair,
Till thirty years were written to your name.
A wife, a mother, these the titles were

The House Of Dust: Part 02: 07:

© Conrad Aiken

'One white rose . . . or is it pink, to-day?'
They pause and smile, not caring what they say,
If only they may talk.
The crowd flows past them like dividing waters.
Dreaming they stand, dreaming they walk.

The Speaking Tree

© Katha Pollitt

for Robert Payne ?

Great Alexander sailing was from his true course turned

The Picture, Or The Lover's Resolution

© Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Through weeds and thorns, and matted underwood
I force my way; now climb, and now descend
O'er rocks, or bare or mossy, with wild foot
Crushing the purple whorts; while oft unseen,

The Blind Boy

© Colley Cibber

O SAY what is that thing calld Light,

Which I must neer enjoy;

The Nightingale

© Bernard de Ventadorn

When grass grows green, and fresh leaves spring,

And flowers are budding on the plain,

The Motorcyclists

© James Tate

but I still can’t eat eggplant. He says I’ll be the first
woman President, it’d be a waste since I talk so much.
Which do you think the fixtures are in the bathroom
at the White House, gold or brass? It’d be okay with me
if they were just brass. Honey, can we stop soon?
I really hate to say it but I need a lady’s room.

The Change

© Leon Gellert

Last year I heard the songs of birds,
And heard the trumpets of the bees.
I caught the winding rivers words,
And clutched at leaves of trees.

The Shepherd

© Anonymous

He wore an old blue shirt the night that first we met,
An old and tattered cabbage-tree concealed his locks of jet;
His footsteps had a languor, his voice a husky tone;
Both man and dog were spent with toil as they slowly wandered home.