Poems begining by T
/ page 489 of 916 /
The Dispossessed
© Sylvia Plath
The enormous mortgage must be paid somehow,
so if you can dream up any saving plan
tell me quick, darling, tell me now.
Trilogy Of Passion 03 Atonement
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Eternal beauty has its fruit to bear;
The eye grows moist, in yearnings blest reveres
The godlike worth of music as of tears.
The Singer
© James Whitcomb Riley
While with Ambition's hectic flame
He wastes the midnight oil,
And dreams, high-throned on heights of fame,
To rest him from his toil,--
The Affliction of Richard
© John Hall Wheelock
Love not too much. But how,
When thou hast made me such,
The Concentration Of Athens
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Why should we wonder that from such small space
Of Earth so much of human strength upgrew,
When thus were woven bonds that tighter drew
Round the Athenian heart than faith or race?
The Cottager To Her Infant
© William Wordsworth
THE days are cold, the nights are long,
The north-wind sings a doleful song;
Then hush again upon my breast;
All merry things are now at rest,
Save thee, my pretty Love!
The Cottager
© John Clare
True as the church clock hand the hour pursues
He plods about his toils and reads the news,
To -- --
© Edgar Allan Poe
Not long ago, the writer of these lines,
In the mad pride of intellectuality,
The Vacation
© Wendell Berry
Once there was a man who filmed his vacation.
He went flying down the river in his boat
The Musical Carp
© Carolyn Wells
There once was a corpulent carp
Who wanted to play on a harp,
But to his chagrin
So short was his fin
That he couldn't reach up to C sharp.
To a Young Lady, With Some Lampreys
© John Gay
With lovers, twas of old the fashion
By presents to convey their passion;
To The Others
© Lola Ridge
I note your infinite reactions -
In glassware
And sequin
And puddles
And bits of jet -
And here and there a diamond…
To a Young Writer
© Yvor Winters
Achilles Holt, Stanford, 1930
Here for a few short years
Strengthen affections; meet,
Later, the dull arrears
Of age, and be discreet.
The Wine Of Song
© Charles Sangster
On their astral rounds
Float divinest sounds,
Unseen, save by spirit-sight,
Obeying some wise, eternal law,
As fixed as the law of light.
To Margaret W------
© Charles Lamb
Margaret, in happy hour
Christen'd from that humble flower
Which we a daisy call!
May thy pretty name-sake be
In all things a type of thee,
And image thee in all.
Thou Art My Lute
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Thou art my lute, by thee I sing,—
My being is attuned to thee.
