Poems begining by T
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Things
© Louis Simpson
A man stood in the laurel tree
Adjusting his hands and feet to the boughs.
He said, “Today I was breaking stones
On a mountain road in Asia,
The Song Of The Sword--To Rudyard Kipling
© William Ernest Henley
The Sword
Singing -
The voice of the Sword from the heart of the Sword
Clanging imperious
Forth from Time's battlements
His ancient and triumphing Song.
The Dance
© Gary Snyder
“Against its will, energy is doing something productive, like the devil in medieval history. The principle is that nature does something against its own will and, by self-entanglement, produces beauty.” Otto Rössler
Izanami
The Return
© Frank Bidart
As the retreating Bructeri began to burn their own
possessions, to deny to the Romans every sustenance but
ashes,
Tryste Noel
© Louise Imogen Guiney
The Ox he openeth wide the Doore
And from the Snowe he calls her inne,
The Piano
© Paul Verlaine
The keyboard, over which two slim hands float,
Shines vaguely in the twilight pink and gray,
Whilst with a sound like wings, note after note
Takes flight to form a pensive little lay
That strays, discreet and charming, faint, remote,
About the room where perfumes of Her stray.
The Peacock Has A Score Of Eyes
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
The peacock has a score of eyes,
With which he cannot see;
The Ecstasy
© Thomas Parnell
Charmd with the sight I long to bear my part
The pleasure flutters at my ravishd heart
Sweet saints and Angels Heavns immortall Quire
If Love have warmd me with celestial fire
Assist my words and as they move along
With Halelujah crown the burthend Song
To Quilca, a Country House not in Good Repair
© Jonathan Swift
Let me thy Properties explain,
A rotten Cabin, dropping Rain;
Talking Of Power And Love
© Paul Eluard
Between all my torments between death and self
Between my despair and the reason for living
There is injustice and this evil of men
That I cannot accept there is my anger
The Philosopher To His Love
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
DEAREST, a look is but a ray
Reflected in a certain way;
A word, whatever tone it wear,
Is but a trembling wave of air;
A touch, obedience to a clause
In nature's pure material laws.
The Poppy
© Jane Taylor
High on a bright and sunny bed
A scarlet poppy grew
And up it held its staring head,
And thrust it full in view.
The Rival
© Sylvia Plath
If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
You leave the same impression
Of something beautiful, but annihilating.
Both of you are great light borrowers.
Her O-mouth grieves at the world; yours is unaffected,
The House of Life LIII: Without Her
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
What of the heart without her? Nay, poor heart,
Of thee what word remains ere speech be still?
A wayfarer by barren ways and chill,
Steep ways and weary, without her thou art,
Where the long cloud, the long woods counterpart,
Sheds doubled darkness up the labouring hill.
The Chosen
© Thomas Hardy
A woman for whom great gods might strive!
I said, and kissed her there:
And then I thought of the other five,
And of how charms outwear.
The Magi
© William Butler Yeats
Now as at all times I can see in the mind's eye,
In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXXIX
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
AMOUR OBLIGE
I could forgive you, dearest, all the folly
Your heart has dreamed. Alas, as we grow old,
We need more vigorous cures for melancholy,
