Poems begining by T
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Tied Down
© Edgar Albert Guest
"They tie you down," a woman said,
Whose cheeks should have been flaming red
Tale IX
© George Crabbe
course,"
Replied the Youth; "but has it power to force?
Unless it forces, call it as you will,
It is but wish, and proneness to the ill."
"Art thou not tempted?"--"Do I fall?" said
The Studio
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
YOU walk my studio's modest round,
With slowly supercilious air;
While in each lifted eyebrow lurks,
The keenness of an ambushed sneer.
To My Father (Translated From Milton)
© William Cowper
Oh that Pieria's spring would thro' my breast
Pour its inspiring influence, and rush
Tombs
© Kostas Karyotakis
Helen S. Lamari, 1878-1912
Poet and musician.
Died with the most frightful pains of the body
and with the greatest calm of the spirit.
ATHENIAN CEMETERY
The Old Gods.
© Robert Crawford
O ye gods, if you could tell us
What ye are if banned or blest
Ye that reigned of old in Hellas!
Ye that ruled the radiant West!
The Lay of Poor Louise
© Sir Walter Scott
Ah, poor Louise! the livelong day
She roams from cot to castle gay;
And still her voice and viol say,
Ah, maids, beware the woodland way,
Think on Louise.
The King's Hunt is up
© William Gray
The hunt is up, the hunt is up,
And it is well nigh day;
And Harry our king is gone hunting,
To bring his deer to bay.
The Moral Of History
© John Jay Chapman
ALL is one issue, every skirmish tells,
And war is but the picture in the story;
The garden scatters burnt-up beetles...
© Boris Pasternak
The garden scatters burnt-up beetles
Like brazen ash, from braziers burst.
I witness, by my lighted candle,
A newly blossomed universe.
The Progress Of The Rose
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
The days of old, the good old days,
Whose misty memories haunt us still,
Demand alike our blame and praise,
And claim their shares of good and ill.
The Lily Of The Valley
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
SWEETEST of the flowers a-blooming
In the fragrant vernal days
Tired
© Ada Cambridge
O for wings! that I might soar
A little way above the floor,
A little way beyond the roar-
The Beasts In The Tower
© Charles Lamb
Within the precincts of this yard,
Each in his narrow confines barred,
To An Old Friend
© Edgar Albert Guest
When we have lived our little lives and wandered all their byways through,
When we've seen all that we shall see and finished all that we must do,
When we shall take one backward look off yonder where our journey ends,
I pray that you shall be as glad as I shall be that we were friends.
The Young Novice
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
The lights yet gleamed on the holy shrine, the incense hung around,
But the rites were oer, the silent church re-echoed to no sound;
Yet kneeling there on the altar steps, absorbed in ardent prayer,
Is a girl, as seraph meek and pureas seraph heavnly fair.
The Graves of Gallipoli
© Anonymous
THE herdman wandering by the lonely rills
Marks where they lie on the scarred mountain's flanks,
Remembering that wild morning when the hills
Shook to the roar of guns, and those wild ranks
Surged upward from the sea.
They Who Return
© Katharine Tynan
Into the stricken house who steals on quiet feet
And sudden brings the sunshine it used to wear?
Whose is the tender whisper that turns the bitter sweet?
Whose kiss is on your forehead, whose breath in your hair?
