Poems begining by T
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The Charity Ball
© George Gordon Byron
What matter the pangs of a husband and father,
If his sorrows in exile be great or be small,
So the Pharisee's glories around her she gather,
And the saint patronizes her 'charity ball!'
The House Of Dust: Part 02: 08:
© Conrad Aiken
Well,it was two days after my husband died
Two days! And the earth still raw above him.
The Red And White Rose
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE Red Rose bowed one golden summer's night,
The Red Rose bent, low whispering to the White,
"Thou pallid shadow of a beauteous flower,
Unchanged from purpling dawn to sunset hour;
The Great Pig Story Of The Tweed.
© James Brunton Stephens
HANDS off, old man!" the young man cried
They stood beside the Tweed,
To The True Patroness of all Poetry, Calliope
© Francis Beaumont
It is a statute in deep wisdom's lore,
That for his lines none should a patron chuse
The Sea
© Lewis Carroll
There are certain things -a spider, a ghost,
The income-tax, gout, an umbrella for three -
That I hate, but the thing that I hate the most
Is a thing they call the SEA.
To William Shelley. Thy Little Footsteps On The Sands
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Thy little footsteps on the sands
Of a remote and lonely shore;
The twinkling of thine infant hands,
Where now the worm will feed no more;
Thy mingled look of love and glee
When we returned to gaze on thee--
The Last Room
© Bliss William Carman
THERE, close the door!
I shall not need these lodgings any more.
Now that I go, dismantled wall and floor
Reproach me and deplore.
The Company Of Lovers
© Judith Wright
We meet and part now over all the world;
we, the lost company,
take hands together in the night, forget
the night in our brief happiness, silently.
The Proud Poet
© Adelaide Crapsey
Great Kings were dust and all their deeds forgot
Did my harp's taut and burnished strings stand mute;
Time
© Frederick George Scott
I saw Time in his workshop carving faces;
Scattered around his tools lay, blunting griefs,
To Be Alone
© George Herbert
By all means use sometimes to be alone,
Salute thyself; see what the soul doth wear.
Dare to look in thy chest, for tis thine own,
And tumble up and down what thou findst there,
Who cannot rest till he good fellows find,
He breaks up house, turns out of doors his mind.
The Realm Of Rest
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
In the realm that Nature boundeth
Are there balmy shores of peace,
Where no passion-torrent soundeth,
And no storm-wind seeks release?
"Them Old Cherry Words"
© James Whitcomb Riley
Pap he allus ust to say,
"Chris'mus comes but onc't a year!"
To The Superior Animal
© Anna Laetitia Waring
To sum up all, I'm old - and that's
A fact the years decide;
It is a common thing with cats
And not a thing to hide.
The Dryad Of The Pine
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
AH, forest sweetheart! over land and sea
I come once more, once more to stand by thee;
My sylvan darling! set 'twixt shade and sheen,
Soft as a maid, yet stately as a queen!
The Death Of Hood
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE maimed and broken warrior lay,
By his last foeman brought to bay.
No sounds of battlefield were there--
The drum's deep bass, the trumpet's blare.
The Lover To His Lass
© Duncan Campbell Scott
Crown her with stars, this angel of our planet,
Cover her with morning, this thing of pure delight,
Mantle her with midnight till a mortal cannot
See her for the garments of the light and the night.
