Poems begining by T
/ page 521 of 916 /To Virgil, Written at the Request of the Manuans for the Nineteenth Centenary of Virgil's Death
© Alfred Tennyson
Roman Virgil, thou that singest
Ilion's lofty temples robed in fire,
Ilion falling, Rome arising,
wars, and filial faith, and Dido's pyre;
The King Of Brentfords Testament
© William Makepeace Thackeray
The noble King of Brentford
Was old and very sick,
He summon'd his physicians
To wait upon him quick;
They stepp'd into their coaches
And brought their best physick.
The Jewel Stairs’ Grievance
© Li Po
The jewelled steps are already quite white with dew,
It is so late that the dew soaks my gauze stockings,
And I let down the crystal curtain
And watch the moon through the clear autumn.
The Poplar Field
© Caroline Norton
"The poplars are fell'd: farewell to the shade,
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade;
The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves,
Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.
The Woods Shake In An Ague-Fit
© Mathilde Blind
The woods shake in an ague-fit,
The mad wind rocks the pine,
From sea to sea the white gulls flit
Into the roaring brine.
Thy Better Self
© Jones Very
I AM thy other self, what thou wilt be,
When thou art I, the one seest now;
the difference between a bad poet and a good one is luck
© Charles Bukowski
I suppose so.
I was living in an attic in Philadelphia
The House of Life: 73. The Choice, III
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Nay, come up hither. From this wave-wash'd mound
Unto the furthest flood-brim look with me;
Then reach on with thy thought till it be drown'd.
Miles and miles distant though the last line be,
And though thy soul sail leagues and leagues beyond,
Still, leagues beyond those leagues, there is more sea.
The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry: American Life in Poetry #17 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureat
© Ted Kooser
Nearly all of us spend too much of our lives thinking about what has happened, or worrying about what's coming next. Very little can be done about the past and worry is a waste of time. Here the Kentucky poet Wendell Berry gives himself over to nature.
The Peace of Wild Things
The More a Man Has the More a Man Wants
© Paul Muldoon
At four in the morning he wakes
to the yawn of brakes,
The Monument Of Francis Makemie
© Henry Van Dyke
(Presbyter of Christ in America, 1683-1708)
To thee, plain hero of a rugged race,
The Family Fool
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Oh! a private buffoon is a light-hearted loon,
If you listen to popular rumour;
Things
© Paul Eluard
What happened is, we grew lonely
living among the things,
so we gave the clock a face,
the chair a back,
the table four stout legs
which will never suffer fatigue.
Thanatopsis
© William Cullen Bryant
To him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
The Rover
© Virna Sheard
Though I follow a trail to north or south,
Though I travel east or west,
There's a little house on a quiet road
That my hidden heart loves best;
And when my journeys are over and done,
'Tis there I will go to rest.
To Hester On The Stair
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Hester, creature of my love,
What is this? You love not me?
On the stair you stand above,
Looking down distrustfully