Poems begining by T
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To Lorenzo
© Amelia Opie
Go, distant shores and brighter conquests seek,
But my affection will your scorn survive!
For not from radiant eyes or crimson cheek
My fondness I, or you your power derive;-
The City Tree
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
I stand within the stony, arid town,
I gaze for ever on the narrow street;
I hear for ever passing up and down,
The ceaseless tramp of feet.
To A Successful Man
© Alfred Noyes
(WHAT THE GHOSTS SAID.)
And after all the labour and the pains,
After the heaping up of gold on gold,
After success that locked your feet in chains,
And left you with a heart so tired and old,
The Second Madrigal
© Anna Swirszczynska
A night of love with you,
a big baroque battle
and two victories.
Things Of Clay
© Gamaliel Bradford
Sing a little, play a little,
Laugh a little; for
Life is so extremely brittle,
Who would think of more?
The Dead Beggar
© Charlotte Turner Smith
AN ELEGY.
Addressed to a Lady, who was affected at seeing the
Funeral of a nameless Pauper, buried at the ex-
pense of the Parish, in the Church-Yard at Bright-
The Last Lap
© Rudyard Kipling
How do we know, by the bank-high river,
Where the mired and sulky oxen wait,
The Little Rose Is Dust, My Dear
© Grace Hazard Conkling
The little rose is dust, my dear;
The elfin wind is gone
That sang a song of silver words
And cooled our hearts with dawn.
Thunderstorm, Instantaneous Forever
© Boris Pasternak
After this the halt and summer
Parted company; and taking
Off his cap at night the thunder
Took a hundred blinding stills.
The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto X.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
I
At Church, in twelve hours more, we meet!
This, Dearest, is our last farewell.
Oh, Felix, do you love me? Sweet,
Why do you ask? I cannot tell.
The Song For Colin
© Sara Teasdale
I sang a song at dusking time
Beneath the evening star,
And Terence left his latest rhyme
To answer from afar.
The Pledge At Spunky Point
© John Hay
A Tale of Earnest Effort and Human Perfidy
It's all very well for preaching
To Rosa ----: Acrostic
© Henry Timrod
I took a Rosebud from a certain bower,
And by its side placed an Orange flower,
Then with the Speedwell, blended the perfume
And the sweet beauty of an Apple-bloom,
And thus, 't is one of the loveliest feats,
Is spelled a gentle lady's name in sweets.
To Olinthus Gregory, On Hearing Of The Death Of His Eldest Son, Who Was Drowned As He Was Returning
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
IS there a spot where Pity's foot,
Although unsandalled, fears to tread,
A silence where her voice is mute,
Where tears, and only tears, are shed?
