Poems begining by T
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The First Of April
© Charles Lamb
"Tell me what is the reason you hang down your head?
From your blushes I plainly discern
You have done something wrong. Ere you go up to bed,
I desire that the truth I may learn."
The Starre
© George Herbert
Bright spark, shot from a brighter place,
Where beams surround my Saviour's face,
Canst thou be any where
So well as there?
The Months have endsthe Yearsa knot
© Emily Dickinson
The Months have endsthe Yearsa knot
No Power can untie
To stretch a little further
A Skein of Misery
The Bridge
© Edward Thomas
I have come a long way to-day:
On a strange bridge alone,
Remembering friends, old friends,
I rest, without smile or moan,
As they remember me without smile or moan.
Too Long, O Spirit Of Storm
© Henry Timrod
Too long, O Spirit of Storm,
Thy lightning sleeps in its sheath!
I am sick to the soul of yon pallid sky,
And the moveless sea beneath.
The Cookie Jar
© Edgar Albert Guest
You can rig up a house with all manner of things,
The prayer rugs of sultans and princes and kings;
You can hang on its wall the old tapestries rare
Which some dead Egyptian once treasured with care;
But though costly and gorgeous its furnishings are,
It must have, to be homelike, an old cookie jar.
The Shepherds Calendar - February - A Thaw
© John Clare
Ploughmen go whistling to their toils
And yoke again the rested plough
And mingling oer the mellow soils
Boys' shouts and whips are noising now
The Twenty-Fifth Of April
© Roderic Quinn
THIS day is Anzac Day!
Made sacred by the memory
Of those who fought and died, and fought and live,
And gave the best that men may give
The Donor
© Rainer Maria Rilke
They put you in the picture if you pay.
So even if you didn't see the Savior,
And even if the holy bishop's hand
Didn't guide you in devout behavior
(Kneeling, near the border, looking bland),
In the painting it appeared that way.
The Murdered Traveller
© William Cullen Bryant
When spring, to woods and wastes around,
Brought bloom and joy again,
The murdered traveller's bones were found,
Far down a narrow glen.
The Waiting
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I wait and watch: before my eyes
Methinks the night grows thin and gray;
I wait and watch the eastern skies
To see the golden spears uprise
Beneath the oriflamme of day!
The Pathway Of Rivers
© Henry Van Dyke
The rivers of God are full of water,
They are wonderful in the renewal of their strength,
He poureth them out from a hidden fountain.
The New-Born Infant
© Charles Lamb
Whether beneath sweet beds of roses,
As foolish little Ann supposes,
Through Pleasant Paths
© James Lionel Michael
Through pleasant paths, through dainty ways,
Love leads my feet;
The Master
© George Essex Evans
In sea and air, in leaf and stone,
Whereer Truths magic words are writ,
Translation - "I've found a port. HopeFortuneFarewell ye! "
© John Kenyon
I've found a port. HopeFortuneFarewell ye!
Cheat others now. Enough ye've cheated me.
The Scarlet Cloak
© Roderic Quinn
ONE may go a-many leagues a-questing yon and hither;
One may look on queens and kings, and think the vision bliss;
But he who has the wholesome heart, as lightsome as a feather,
Can find a joy in everything, no matter what it is.
The RedBlazeis the Morning
© Emily Dickinson
The RedBlazeis the Morning
The Violetis Noon
The YellowDayis falling
And after thatis none
