Poems begining by T
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The Junk Box
© Edgar Albert Guest
My father often used to say:
"My boy don't throw a thing away:
You'll find a use for it some day."
The Verse of Coleridges Christobel
© Charles Harpur
MARK yon runnel how tis flowing,
Like a sylvan spirit dreaming
The Cows on Killing Day
© Les Murray
All me have just been milked. Teats all tingling still
from that dry toothless sucking by the chilly mouths
that gasp loudly in in in, and never breathe out.
The Chimney Sweeper: When my mother died I was very young
© William Blake
When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry " 'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!"
So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.
The Imperfect Enjoyment
© John Wilmot
Naked she lay, clasped in my longing arms,
I filled with love, and she all over charms;
The Engine
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Into the gloom of the deep, dark night,
With panting breath and a startled scream;
Swift as a bird in sudden flight
Darts this creature of steel and steam.
The Ballad of the Anti-Puritan
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Envoi
Prince, Bayard would have smashed his sword
To see the sort of knights you dub-
Is that the last of them-O Lord
Will someone take me to a pub?
The Doubt of Future Foes
© Queen Elizabeth I
The doubt of future foes exiles my present joy,
And wit me warns to shun such snares as threaten mine annoy;
The Banshee
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
THE Banshee cries on the rising wind
"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"
The dead to free and the quick to bind--
(Close fast the shutter and draw the blind!)
"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"
There was an Old Man with a Beard
© Edward Lear
There was an Old Man with a beard,
Who said, "It is just as I feared!
Two Owls and a Hen, four Larks and a Wren,
Have all built their nests in my beard.
The Song
© Roderic Quinn
I SANG of the sun on the waters,
And then of the wind in the wood;
And the people hearkened my singing
And said that the song was good.
The Hearts
© Robert Pinsky
The legendary muscle that wants and grieves,
The organ of attachment, the pump of thrills
And troubles, clinging in stubborn colonies
To A Wounded Bird
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Thou shalt feel no more the wind on thy wing,
Nor float on the breath of the breeze;
The Sister's Lullaby
© Padraic Colum
You would not slumber
If laid at my breast:
You would not slumber.
Too Late
© Madison Julius Cawein
I looked upon a dead girl's face and heard
What seemed the voice of Love call unto me
T o W.H.H.
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
How like a mighty picture, tint by tint,
This marvellous world is opening to thy view!
Wonders of earth and heaven; shapes bright and new,
Strength, radiance, beauty, and all things that hint
There Is
© Louis Simpson
Look! From my window there’s a view
of city streets
where only lives as dry as tortoises
can crawl—the Gallapagos of desire.
The Played-Out Humorist
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Oh happy was that humorist - the first that made a pun at all -
Who when a joke occurred to him, however poor and mean,
Was absolutely certain that it never had been done at all -
How popular at dinners must that humorist have been!
The Troubadour. Canto 1
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
There is a light step passing by
Like the distant sound of music's sigh;
It is that fair and gentle child,
Whose sweetness has so oft beguiled,
Like sunlight on a stormy day,
His almost sullenness away.
To A Child Dancing In The Wind
© William Butler Yeats
DANCE there upon the shore;
What need have you to care
