Poems begining by T
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The Presentiment
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
OVER her face, so tender and meek,
The light of a prophecy lies,
That has silvered the red of the rose on her cheek,
And chastened the thought in her eyes!
Transmutation
© Madison Julius Cawein
To me all beauty that I see
Is melody made visible:
An earth-translated state, may be,
Of music heard in Heaven or Hell.
The Bird at Dawn
© Harold Monro
What I saw was just one eye
In the dawn as I was going :
A bird can carry all the sky
In that little button glowing.
The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 16
© William Langland
"Now faire falle yow,' quod I tho, "for youre faire shewyng!
For Haukyns love the Actif Man evere I shal yow lovye.
The Friends Burial
© John Greenleaf Whittier
My thoughts are all in yonder town,
Where, wept by many tears,
To-day my mother's friend lays down
The burden of her years.
Trinity Sunday
© John Keble
Creator, Saviour, strengthening Guide,
Now on Thy mercy's ocean wide
Far out of sight we seem to glide.
The Ghosts Petition
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
'There's a footstep coming: look out and see,'
'The leaves are falling, the wind is calling;
No one cometh across the lea.'
The Lass in the Female Factory
© Anonymous
She got 'Death Recorded' in Newry town,
For stealing her mistress' watch and gown;
Her little boy Paddy can tell you the tale,
Her father was turnkey at Newry jail.
The Quest
© James Whitcomb Riley
I am looking for Love. Has he passed this way,
With eyes as blue as the skies of May,
And a face as fair as the summer dawn?--
You answer back, but I wander on,--
For you say: "Oh, yes; but his eyes were gray,
And his face as dim as a rainy day."
The Weeping Babe
© Katharine Tynan
She kneels by the cradle
Where Jesus doth lie;
Singing, Lullaby, my Baby!
But why dost Thou cry?
The Passionate Printer To His Love
© Henry Austin Dobson
Come live with me and be my Dear;
And till that happy bond shall lapse,
I'll set your Poutings in Brevier,
Your praises in the largest CAPS.
The Bowl Of Water
© Robert Laurence Binyon
She is eight years old.
When she laughs, her eyes laugh;
Light dances in her eyes;
She tosses back her long hair
The Burial Of Sir John Mackenzie
© Jessie Mackay
They played him home to the House of Stones
All the way, all the way,
To Dr. Moore,
© Helen Maria Williams
IN ANSWER TO A POETICAL EPISTLE WRITTEN TO
ME BY HIM IN WALES, SEPTEMBER 1791.
