Poems begining by T
/ page 545 of 916 /
To Lord Tennyson
© William Watson
(WITH A VOLUME OF VERSE)
Master and mage, our prince of song, whom Time,
The Nightingale Has A Lyre Of Gold
© William Ernest Henley
The nightingale has a lyre of gold,
The lark's is a clarion-call,
And the blackbird plays but a boxwood flute,
But I love him best of all.
The Crocodile
© Hilaire Belloc
Whatever our faults, we can always engage
That no fancy or fable shall sully our page,
The Young Princess -- A Ballad Of Old Laws Of Love
© George Meredith
When the South sang like a nightingale
Above a bower in May,
The training of Love's vine of flame
Was writ in laws, for lord and dame
To say their yea and nay.
The Deans Reasons For Not Building At Drapiers-Hill
© Jonathan Swift
I will not build on yonder mount;
And, should you call me to account,
Consulting with myself, I find
It was no levity of mind.
To H. W. Longfellow
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
OUR Poet, who has taught the Western breeze
To waft his songs before him o'er the seas,
Will find them wheresoe'er his wanderings reach
Borne on the spreading tide of English speech
Twin with the rhythmic waves that kiss the farthest beach.
The Self Banished
© Edmund Waller
It is not that I love you less
Than when before your feet I lay,
But to prevent the sad increase
Of hopeless love, I keep away.
The Regret
© Arthur Symons
It seems to me, dearest, if you were dead.
And thought returned to me after the tears,
The King's Ankus
© Rudyard Kipling
These are the Four that are never content, that have never be
filled since the Dews began-
Jacala's mouth, and the glut of the Kite, and the hands of the
Ape, and the Eyes of Man.
The Tear
© Heinrich Heine
The latest light of evening
Upon the waters shone,
And still we sat in the lonely hut,
In silence and alone.
The Wonderful Spring Of San Joaquin
© Francis Bret Harte
You see the point? Don't be too quick
To break bad habits: better stick,
Like the Mission folk, to your ARSENIC.
The Holy Midnight
© George MacDonald
Ah, holy midnight of the soul,
When stars alone are high;
When winds are resting at their goal,
And sea-waves only sigh!
The Death Of Sir James, Lord Of Douglas
© James Clerk Maxwell
"Men may weill wyt, thouch nane thaim tell,
How angry for sorow, and how fell,
Is to tyne sic a Lord as he
To thaim that war off hys mengye.
The Wind
© Amy Lowell
He shouts in the sails of the ships at sea,
He steals the down from the honeybee,
"The shrines of old are broken down"
© Robert Laurence Binyon
The shrines of old are broken down;
The faiths that knelt at them are dead.
Nothing's strange, and nought unknown:
All's been done and all been said.
Tired of knowledge, now we sigh
For a little mystery.
The Curse Of Cromwell
© William Butler Yeats
YOU ask what - I have found, and far and wide I go:
Nothing but Cromwell's house and Cromwell's mur-
The Real Successes
© Edgar Albert Guest
You think that the failures are many,
You think the successes are few,
To Colonel Charles (Dying General C.B.B.)
© George Meredith
An English heart, my commandant,
A soldier's eye you have, awake
To right and left; with looks askant
On bulwarks not of adamant,
Where white our Channel waters break.
The Gladness of Nature
© William Cullen Bryant
Is this a time to be cloudy and sad,
When our mother Nature laughs around;
When even the deep blue heavens look glad,
And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?
Temptation
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
I done got 'uligion, honey, an' I 's happy ez a king;
Evahthing I see erbout me 's jes' lak sunshine in de spring;
An' it seems lak I do' want to do anothah blessid thing
But jes' run an' tell de neighbours, an' to shout an' pray an' sing.
