Poems begining by T
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This that would greetan hour ago
© Emily Dickinson
This that would greetan hour ago
Is quaintest Distancenow
Had it a Guest from Paradise
Nor glow, would it, nor bow
Thoughts Of A Father
© Edgar Albert Guest
We've never seen the Father here, but we have known the Son,
The finest type of manhood since the world was first begun.
And, summing up the works of God, I write with reverent pen,
The greatest is the Son He sent to cheer the lives of men.
The Poet's Possession
© Archibald Lampman
Think not, oh master of the well-tilled field,
This earth is only thine; for after thee,
The Balloon Of The Mind
© William Butler Yeats
HANDS, do what you're bid:
Bring the balloon of the mind
That bellies and drags in the wind
Into its narrow shed.
To Dr. F. B[eale]; On His Book Of Chesse.
© Richard Lovelace
Sir, how unravell'd is the golden fleece:
Men, that could only fool at FOX AND GEESE,
The Spagnoletto. Act II
© Emma Lazarus
Ball in the Palace of DON JOHN. Dance. DON JOHN and MARIA
together. DON TOMMASO, ANNICCA. LORDS and LADIES, dancing or
promenading.
The Firing-Line
© Henry Lawson
In the dreadful din of a ghastly fight they are shooting, murdering, men;
In the smothering silence of ghastly peace we murder with tongue and pen.
Where is heard the tap of the typewriterwhere the track of reform they mine
Where they stand to the frame or the linotypewe are all in the firingline.
The White Doe Of Rylstone, Or, The Fate Of The Nortons - Canto Seventh
© William Wordsworth
"Powers there are
That touch each other to the quick--in modes
Which the gross world no sense hath to perceive,
No soul to dream of."
The Rain And The Wind
© William Ernest Henley
The rain and the wind, the wind and the rain -
They are with us like a disease:
The One In Ten
© Edgar Albert Guest
Nine passed him by with a hasty look,
Each bent on his eager way;
The White Doe Of Rylstone, Or, The Fate Of The Nortons - Canto First
© William Wordsworth
FROM Bolton's old monastic tower
The bells ring loud with gladsome power;
The sun shines bright; the fields are gay
With people in their best array
The Reason Why
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I'D like, indeed I'd like to know
Why sister Bell, who loved me so,
And used to pet me day and night,
And could not bear me out of sight,
The Watchers
© Katharine Tynan
THE cottages all lie asleep;
The sheep and lambs are folded in
Winged sentinels the vale will keep
Until the hours of life begin.
The Woods
© Frances Anne Kemble
The air is full of countless voices, joined
In one eternal hymn; the whispering wind,
The shuddering leaves, the hidden water springs,
The work-song of the bees, whose honeyed wings
Hang in the golden tresses of the lime,
Or buried lie in purple beds of thyme.
The Earth With Thunder Torn
© Fulke Greville
THE earth with thunder torn, with fire blasted,
With waters dron'd, with windy palsy shaken,
Cannot for this with heaven be distast'd,
Since thunder, rain, and winds from earth are taken;
The Screech-Owl
© Madison Julius Cawein
When, one by one, the stars have trembled through
Eve's shadowy hues of violet, rose, and fire--
To a Friend
© William Lisle Bowles
Go, then, and join the murmuring city's throng!
Me thou dost leave to solitude and tears;
The Sobbing Of The Bells
© Walt Whitman
THE sobbing of the bells, the sudden death-news everywhere,
The slumberer's rouse, the rapport of the People,
