Poems begining by T
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The Mermaid
© Madison Julius Cawein
The moon in the East is glowing;
I sit by the moaning sea;
The mists down the sea are blowing,
Down the sea all dewily.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Musician's Tale; The Ballad of Carmilhan - II.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The jolly skipper paused awhile,
And then again began;
"There is a Spectre Ship," quoth he,
"A ship of the Dead that sails the sea,
And is called the Carmilhan.
The Golden Legend: II. A Farm In The Odenwald
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Elsie._ Here are flowers for you,
But they are not all for you.
Some of them are for the Virgin
And for Saint Cecilia.
To Idleness
© Harriet Monroe
Sweet Idleness, you linger at the door
To lead me down through meadows cool with shade
Tant ai mo cor
© Bernard de Ventadorn
Mas fals lauzengier engres
m'an lunhat de so pais
que tals s'en fai esdevis
qu'eu cuidera qu'ens celes
si.ns saubes ams d'un coratge.
Those Who Sit
© Arthur Rimbaud
These old men have always been one flesh with their seats,
feeling bright suns drying their skins to the texture of calico,
or else, looking at the window-panes
where the snow is turning grey,
shivering with the painful shiver of the toad.
The Goal.
© Arthur Henry Adams
ON the grey levels of the plain of life
When, slowly swirled,
The moving hills of morning mist
Hedged in the world
The Wish
© Rachel Elizabeth Patterson
I do not wish thee worldly wealth-
For it may flee away;
I do not wish thee beauty's charms-
For they will soon decay.
The Orchard Lands Of Long Ago
© James Whitcomb Riley
The orchard lands of Long Ago!
O drowsy winds, awake, and blow
To An Ingrate
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
This is to-day, a golden summer's day
And yet--and yet
My vengeful soul will not forget
The past, forever now forgot, you say.
The Bankers Secret
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
The reader paused,--the Teacups knew his ways,--
He, like the rest, was not averse to praise.
Voices and hands united; every one
Joined in approval: "Number Three, well done!"
The Man Of His Word
© Edgar Albert Guest
THE man of his word met a maid on the beach,
I The fine art of swimming he offered to teach
To The Memory Of Father Prout
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
In deep dejection, but with affection,
I often think of those pleasant times,
In the days of Fraser, ere I touched a razor,
How I read and revell'd in thy racy rhymes;
The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto III.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
III A Paradox
To tryst Love blindfold goes, for fear
He should not see, and eyeless night
He chooses still for breathing near
Beauty, that lives but in the sight.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. The Spanish Jew's Second Tale; Scanderbeg
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The battle is fought and won
By King Ladislaus, the Hun,
The Crystal Gazer
© Sara Teasdale
I shall gather myself into myself again,
I shall take my scattered selves and make them one,
Fusing them into a polished crystal ball
Where I can see the moon and the flashing sun.
The Artist
© Oscar Wilde
ONE evening there came into his soul the desire to fashion an image
of THE PLEASURE THAT ABIDETH FOR A MOMENT. And he went forth into
the world to look for bronze. For he could think only in bronze.
The Sorows Of Werther
© William Makepeace Thackeray
WERTHER had a love for Charlotte
Such as words could never utter;
The Herons Of Elmwood. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fifth)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Warm and still is the summer night,
As here by the river's brink I wander;
White overhead are the stars, and white
The glimmering lamps on the hillside yonder.
