Poems begining by T
/ page 591 of 916 /
The Golden Apple
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
She saw on the far bank a golden apple,
A glowing apple, poor little Eve,
The Gardener
© Roderic Quinn
WITHIN this garden space are set
Sweet mignonette and violet,
Sunk in rich mould; at dawn and night
Their leaves dew-wet.
To My First Love
© Hristo Botev
Put aside that song of love,
do not fill my heart with pain -
I'm young but I don't know of youth
and if I did I wouldn't claim
The Princess (part 7)
© Alfred Tennyson
'If you be, what I think you, some sweet dream,
I would but ask you to fulfil yourself:
But if you be that Ida whom I knew,
I ask you nothing: only, if a dream,
Sweet dream, be perfect. I shall die tonight.
Stoop down and seem to kiss me ere I die.'
The Absent-Minded Beggar
© Rudyard Kipling
When you've shouted " Rule Britannia," when you've sung " God save the Queen,"
When you've finished killing Kruger with your mouth,
The Unlucky Apple
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
'TWAS the apple that in Eden
Caused our father's primal fall;
The Power of Art
© George Santayana
Not human art, but living gods alone
Can fashion beauties that by changing live,-
The Mystic Sea
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
The smell of the sea in my nostrils,
The sound of the sea in mine ears;
The touch of the spray on my burning face,
Like the mist of reluctant tears.
The Shepheardes Calender: June
© Edmund Spenser
June: AEgloga Sexta. HOBBINOL & COLIN Cloute.
HOBBINOL.
LO! Collin, here the place, whose pleasaunt syte
From other shades hath weand my wandring mynde.
The Plaint Of King Yew's Forsaken Wife
© Confucius
Kind and impartial, nature's laws
No odious difference make.
But providence appears unkind;
Events are often hard.
This man, to principle untrue,
Denies me his regard.
Training
© Wilfred Owen
Not this week nor this month dare I lie down
In languour under lime trees or smooth smile.
Love must not kiss my face pale that is brown.
The Dying Adrian To His Soul
© Matthew Prior
Poor, little, pretty, fluttering thing,
Must we no longer live together?
The True Bible
© Sam Walter Foss
What is the worlds true Bible -- tis the highest thought of man,
The thought distilled through ages since the dawn of thought began.
And each age adds a word thereto, some psalm or promise sweet --
And the canon is unfinished and forever incomplete.
Oer the chapters that are written, long and lovingly we pore --
But the best is yet unwritten, for we grow from more to more.
The Egocentrics
© Piet Hein
People are self-centred
to a nauseous degree.
They will keep on about themselves
while I'm explaining me.
The Waggoner - Canto First
© William Wordsworth
'TIS spent--this burning day of June!
Soft darkness o'er its latest gleams is stealing;
The buzzing dor-hawk, round and round, is wheeling,--
That solitary bird
The Root
© Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
Deep, Love, yea, very deep.
And in the dark exiled,
I have no sense of light but still to creep
And know the breast, but not the eyes. Thy child
Saw ne'er his mother near, nor if she smiled;
But only feels her weep.
The Blind Man
© Leon Gellert
Within a corner of this windowed room
He sits, and seldom speaks, and seldom
The Inward Judge
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The soul itself its awful witness is.
Say not in evil doing, "No one sees,"
And so offend the conscious One within,
Whose ear can hear the silences of sin.
The Tunnel
© Hart Crane
Our tongues recant like beaten weather vanes.
This answer lives like verdigris, like hair
Beyond extinction, surcease of the bone;
And repetition freezesWhat
