Poems begining by T
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The Redbreast Chasing The Butterfly
© William Wordsworth
ART thou the bird whom Man loves best,
The pious bird with the scarlet breast,
Our little English Robin;
The bird that comes about our doors
The Happy Slow Thinker
© Edgar Albert Guest
Full many a time a thought has come
That had a bitter meaning in it.
And in the conversation's hum
I lost it ere I could begin it.
The Fall
© William Barnes
The length o’ days ageän do shrink
An’ flowers be thin in meäd, among
The eegrass a-sheenèn bright, along
Brook upon brook, an’ brink by brink.
The Great Drum
© Anonymous
The circle of the Earth is the head of a great drum;
With the day, it moves upward - booming;
With the night, it moves downward - booming;
The day and the night are its song.
The Consent
© Howard Nemerov
Late in November, on a single night
Not even near to freezing, the ginkgo trees
The Coming of Morn
© Charles Heavysege
Lo, the clouds break, and in each opened schism
The coming Phoebus lays huge beams of gold,
And roseate fire and glories that the prism
Would vainly strive before us to unfold;
And, while I gaze, from out the bright abysm
A flaming disc is to the horizon rolled.
The Rover's Apology
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Oh, gentlemen, listen, I pray;
Though I own that my heart has been ranging,
The Nail
© C. K. Williams
Some dictator or other had gone into exile, and now reports were coming about his regime,
the usual crimes, torture, false imprisonment, cruelty and corruption, but then a detail:
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. The Musician's Tale; The Mother's Ghost
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Svend Dyring he rideth adown the glade;
I myself was young!
The Lonely Road
© Virna Sheard
We used to fear the lonely road
That twisted round the hill;
It dipped down to the river-way,
And passed the haunted mill,
And then crept on, until it reached
The churchyard, green and still.
The Two Bears
© Carolyn Wells
Prince Curlilocks remarked one day
To Princess Dimplecheek,
"I haven't had a real good play
For more than 'most a week."
The Wind Was Rough Which Tore
© Emily Jane Brontë
The wind was rough which tore
That leaf from its parent tree
The fate was cruel which bore
The withering corpse to me
The Present Time Best Pleaseth me
© Robert Herrick
Praise, they that will, times past: I joy to see
Myself now live; this age best pleaseth me!
The Dedication
© Henry Vaughan
To my most merciful, my most loving, and dearly
loved REDEEMER, the ever blessed, the only
HOLY and JUST ONE,
JESUS CHRIST,
The Lay for the Troubled Golfer
© Edgar Albert Guest
His eye was wild and his face was taut with anger and hate and rage,
And the things he muttered were much too strong for the ink of the printed page.
I found him there when the dusk came down, in his golf clothes still was he,
And his clubs were strewn around his feet as he told his grief to me:
Id an easy five for a seventy-ninein sight of the golden goal
An easy five and I took an eightan eight on the eighteenth hole!
