Poems begining by T
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The Notion Of Rastus
© Edgar Albert Guest
DERE never was a man on earth
So wonderful or clever,
Dat ever found a way t' live
On dis ole world forever.
The Distant Guns
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Negligently the cart--track descends into the valley;
The drench of the rain has passed and the clover breathes;
Scents are abroad; in the valley a mist whitens
Along the hidden river, where the evening smiles.
The Three Christmas Waits
© William Makepeace Thackeray
"When this black year began,
This Eighteen-forty-eight,
I was a great great man,
And king both vise and great,
And Munseer Guizot by me did show
As Minister of State.
The Shepherds Calendar - November
© John Clare
The landscape sleeps in mist from morn till noon;
And, if the sun looks through, 'tis with a face
Beamless and pale and round, as if the moon,
When done the journey of her nightly race,
The Famine In Ireland
© James Brunton Stephens
THEY shall not perish! Not if help can save
Our hunger-stricken brethren from the grave!
The Soldiers Of The Plough
© Charles Sangster
NO maiden dream, nor fancy theme,
Brown Labour's muse would sing;
The King's Missive
© John Greenleaf Whittier
UNDER the great hill sloping bare
To cove and meadow and Common lot,
The Rich Man And Lazarus
© John Newton
A Worldling spent each day
In luxury and state;
While a believer lay,
A beggar at his gate:
Think not the Lord's appointments strange,
Death made a great and lasting change.
To Celia
© Sir Charles Sedley
Not, Celia, that I juster am,
Or better than the rest;
For I would change each hour like them
Were not my heart at rest.
The Merry Month Of May
© Thomas Dekker
O, the month of May, the merry month of May,
So frolic, so gay, and so green, so green, so green!
O, and then did I unto my true love say,
Sweet Peg, thou shalt be my Summer's Queen.
To A Woman Of Malabar
© Charles Baudelaire
Your feet are as slender as hands, your hips, to me,
wide enough for the sweetest white girls envy:
to the wise artist your body is sweet and dear,
and your great velvet eyes black without peer.
The Skylark
© Edith Nesbit
"It is the skylark come." For shame!
Robert-a-Cockney is thy name:
Robert-a-Field would surely know
That skylarks, bless them, never go!
The Martyr Poets -- did not tell --
© Emily Dickinson
The Martyr Poets -- did not tell --
But wrought their Pang in syllable --
That when their mortal name be numb --
Their mortal fate -- encourage Some --
To......
© William Watson
Unto the Lady of The Nook
Fly, tiny book.
There thou hast lovers--even thou!
Fly thither now.
The King's Sabbath
© Archibald Lampman
Once idly in his hall king Olave sat
Pondering, and with his dagger whittled chips;
The Great Beech
© Norman Rowland Gale
With heart disposed to memory, let me stand
Near this monarch and this minstrel of the land,
Now that Dian leans so lovely from her car.
Illusively brought near by seeming falsely far,
In yon illustrious summit sways the tangled evening star.
The Dream
© Caroline Hayward
He sees it all - and a secret pang,
Through that all unconquered spirit rang,
And I turned to look on the conqueror dread,
I woke, 'twas a dream, and the vision fled.
The Mirror
© Yehudah HaLevi
Into my eyes he lovingly looked,
My arms about his neck were twined,
And in the mirror of my eyes,
What but his image did he find?
To Yvor Winters
© Thom Gunn
Though night is always close, complete negation
Ready to drop on wisdom and emotion,
Night from the air or the carnivorous breath,
Still it is right to know the force of death,
And, as you do, persistent, tough in will,
Raise from the excellent the better still.
