Poems begining by T
/ page 581 of 916 /
The Cross Roads
© Robert Southey
There was an old man breaking stones
To mend the turnpike way,
He sat him down beside a brook
And out his bread and cheese he took,
For now it was mid-day.
To Massachusetts
© John Greenleaf Whittier
WHAT though around thee blazes
No fiery rallying sign?
From all thy own high places,
Give heaven the light of thine!
To the Virtuosi
© William Shenstone
Hail curious Wights! to whom so fair
The form of mortal flies is!
Who deem those grubs beyond compare,
Which common sense despises.
The Reverend Dr. L---.
© Mary Barber
In vain you shew a happy Nation,
The Gospel's gracious Dispensation;
And plead from thence, to bring up Youth
To early Piety and Truth.
To unattentive Ears you preach,
What Miseries alone can teach.
The Poet Sings To Her Poet
© Alice Meynell
As the full moon shining there
To the sun that lighteth her
Am I unto thee for ever,
O my secret glory-giver!
O my light, I am dark but fair,
Black but fair.
The Love Of The People For The Duke Of Shaou
© Confucius
O fell not that sweet pear-tree!
See how its branches spread.
Spoil not its shade,
For Shaou's chief laid
Beneath it his weary head.
The Old Dream Comes Again To Me
© Heinrich Heine
The old dream comes again to me:
With May-night stars above,
We two sat under the linden-tree
And swore eternal love.
The Beam In Grenley Church
© William Barnes
In church at Grenley woone mid zee
A beam vrom wall to wall; a tree
That's longer than the church is wide,
An' zoo woone end o'n's drough outside,--
Not cut off short, but bound all round
Wi' lead, to keep en seäfe an' sound.
The Quaker Alumni
© John Greenleaf Whittier
From the well-springs of Hudson, the sea-cliffs of Maine,
Grave men, sober matrons, you gather again;
And, with hearts warmer grown as your heads grow more cool,
Play over the old game of going to school.
The Garden Of Dreams
© Madison Julius Cawein
Not while I live may I forget
That garden which my spirit trod!
Where dreams were flowers, wild and wet,
And beautiful as God.
The Living God
© Jones Very
There is no death with Thee! each plant and tree
In living haste their stems push onward still,
To Henry W. Longfellow
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I THINK earth's noblest, most pathetic sight
Is some old poet, round whose laurel-crown
The long gray locks are streaming softly down;--
Whose evening, touched by prescient shades of night,
The Wife
© Lesbia Harford
He's out of work!
I tell myself a change should mean a chance,
And he must look for changes to advance,
And he, of all men, really needs a jerk.
The Gray Folk
© Edith Nesbit
THE house, with blind unhappy face,
Stands lonely in the last year's corn,
And in the grayness of the morn
The gray folk come about the place.
To the Moon [Late Version]
© Charles Harpur
With musing mind I watch thee steal
Above those envious clouds that hid
Tis Hard
© Augusta Davies Webster
'Tis hard. We are young still but more content;
'Tis our ripe flush, the heyday of our prime;
We learn full breath, how rich of the air we are!
But suddenly we note a touch of time,
A little fleck that scarcely seems to mar;
And we know then that some time since youth went.
The Landing
© Padraic Colum
THE great ship lantern-girdled.
The tender standing by;
The waning stars cloud-shrouded,
The land that we descry!
To A Poet
© Alice Meynell
Thou who singest through the earth,
All the earth's wild creatures fly thee,
Everywhere thou marrest mirth.
Dumbly they defy thee.
There is something they deny thee.
