Poems begining by T

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To Her Whose Name

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

To her whose name,
With its sweet sibilant sound like sudden showers
Splashing the grass and flowers,
Hath set my April heart aflame;

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The Last Parting

© Katharine Tynan

He is not dead. They do not know,
  Who pity her, her secret ease,
How he is near her, how they go,
  Her hand in his.

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The Dustman

© Bliss William Carman

'DUSTMAN, dustman!'
Through the deserted square he cries,
And babies put their rosy fists
Into their eyes.

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The Noon Quatrains

© Charles Cotton

THE Day grows hot, and darts his rays

From such a sure and killing place,

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The Maid of Gerringong

© Henry Kendall

Rolling through the gloomy gorges, comes the roaring southern blast,

With a sound of torrents flying, like a routed army, past,

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To Constantia

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

I.
The rose that drinks the fountain dew
In the pleasant air of noon,
Grows pale and blue with altered hue—

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The Tombstone Told When She Died

© Dylan Thomas

The tombstone told when she died.

Her two surnames stopped me still.

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To E. Fitzgerald: Tiresias

© Alfred Tennyson

.   OLD FITZ, who from your suburb grange,

  Where once I tarried for a while,

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The Road To Ruin

© Siegfried Sassoon

  My hopes, my messengers I sent
  Across the ten years continent
  Of Time. In dream I saw them go--

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There is a Way

© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

There is a way between voice and presence
where information flows.
In disciplined silence it opens.
With wandering talk it closes.

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The Fairy Changeling

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

Their muttered prayers, "He has no luck!
For sure the woman is fairy-struck,
To leave her child a fairy guest,
And love the weak, wee wean the best!"

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To Lydia Maria Child

© John Greenleaf Whittier


The sweet spring day is glad with music,
But through it sounds a sadder strain;
The worthiest of our narrowing circle
Sings Loring's dirges o'er again.

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The Egoists

© Edith Nesbit

TWO strangers, from opposing poles,
Meet in the torrid zone of Love:
And their desire seems set above
The limitation of their souls.

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The Phantom Kiss

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

One night in my room, still and beamless,
  With will and with thought in eclipse,
  I rested in sleep that was dreamless;
  When softly there fell on my lips

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The Circus

© William Henry Ogilvie

Circus! The gilded wagons; the great tent

blazing with light;

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The Arid Lands

© Herbert Bashford

THESE lands are clothed in burning weather,
  These parched lands pant for God’s cool rain;
I look away where strike together
  The burnished sky and barren plain.

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The Sophomore's Invitation

© William Herbert Carruth

Come out with me, O maiden mine,
 Come out and roam the campus;
I'll wield the fairy bug-net thine,
And flounder through the bindweed vine,
 A-puffing like a grampus.

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The Stirrup Cup

© John Hay

My short and happy day is done,
The long and dreary night comes on;
And at my door the Pale Horse stands,
To carry me to unknown lands.

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There is a calm for those who weep - 2

© James Montgomery

There is a calm for those who weep,
A rest for weary pilgrims found:
They softly lie, and sweetly sleep,
Low in the ground.

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The God And The Bayadere - An Indian Legend

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

 Men as man he'd fain perceive.
And when he the town as a trav'ller hath seen,
Observing the mighty, regarding the mean,
He quits it, to go on his journey, at eve.