Poems begining by T
/ page 590 of 916 /
To Ellinda Upon His Late Recovery. A Paradox
© Richard Lovelace
I.
How I grieve that I am well!
All my health was in my sicknes,
Go then, Destiny, and tell,
Very death is in this quicknes.
The Stringy-Bark Tree
© Henry Lawson
And when sawn-timber homes were built out in the West,
Then for walls and for ceilings its wood was the best;
And for shingles and palings to last while men be,
There was nothing on earth like the stringy-bark tree.
The Fir-Tree And The Palm
© Heinrich Heine
A lonely fir-tree standeth
On a height where north winds blow ;
It sleepeth, with whitened garment,
Enshrouded by ice and snow.
The Church Militant
© George Herbert
Almightie Lord, who from thy glorious throne
Seest and rulest all things ev'n as one:
The Sun Wields Mercy
© Charles Bukowski
and the sun wields mercy
but like a jet torch carried to high,
The Rower's Chant
© Thomas Sturge Moore
ROW till the land dip 'neath
The sea from view.
Row till a land peep up,
A home for you.
The Angler
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
'Twas saucy Celia smiled on me,
All banished was her sorrow
"To-day I'll loose the silly fish,
For I shall kill to-morrow."
The Heart Of Night
© Bliss William Carman
O doubter of the light,
Confused by fear and wrong,
Lean on the heart of night
And let love make thee strong!
The Book-Worm
© Thomas Parnell
Bring Homer, Virgil, Tasso near,
To pile a sacred Altar here;
Hold, Boy, thy Hand out-run thy Wit,
You reach'd the Plays that D---s writ;
You reach'd me Ph---s rustick Strain;
Pray take your mortal Bards again.
To The Chief Musician Upon Nabla: A Tyndallic Ode
© James Clerk Maxwell
I.
I come from fields of fractured ice,
To a Clergyman on the Death of His Lady
© Phillis Wheatley
Where contemplation finds her sacred spring,
Where heav'nly music makes the arches ring,
The Confidant Peasant And The Maladroit Bear
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
A peasant had a docile bear,
A bear of manners pleasant,
And all the love she had to spare
She lavished on the peasant:
She proved her deep affection plainly
(The method was a bit ungainly).
The Stevedores
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
We are the army stevedores, lusty and virile and strong,
We are given the hardest work of the war, and the hours are long.
We handle the heavy boxes, and shovel the dirty coal;
While soldiers and sailors work in the light, we burrow below like a mole.
But somebody has to do this work, or the soldiers could not fight!
And whatever work is given a man, is good if he does it right.
The World In The House
© Jane Taylor
Regions of intellect ! serenely fair,
Hence let us rise, and breathe your purer air.
--There shine the stars ! one intellectual glance
At that bright host,--on yon sublime expanse,
Might prove a cure ;--well, say they, let them shine
With all our hearts,--but let us dress and dine.
The Martyr Poetsdid not tell
© Emily Dickinson
The Martyr Poetsdid not tell
But wrought their Pang in syllable
That when their mortal name be numb
Their mortal fateencourage Some
To James Whitcomb Riley With Admiration And Regard
© Madison Julius Cawein
_O lyrist of the lowly and the true,
The song I sought for you
That Shadow, My Likeness
© Walt Whitman
THAT shadow, my likeness, that goes to and fro, seeking a livelihood,
chattering, chaffering;
How often I find myself standing and looking at it where it flits;
How often I question and doubt whether that is really me;
-But in these, and among my lovers, and caroling my songs,
O I never doubt whether that is really me.
The Hero
© John Greenleaf Whittier
"O for a knight like Bayard,
Without reproach or fear;
My light glove on his casque of steel,
My love-knot on his spear!
The Old Apple-Woman
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
A Broadway Lyric
SHE sits by the side of a turbulent stream
That rushes and rolls forever
Up and down like a weary dream
