Poems begining by T
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The Spring
© Abraham Cowley
THOUGH you be absent here, I needs must say
The Trees as beauteous are, and flowers as gay,
The Bloom is not a Bloom
© Bai Juyi
The bloom is not a bloom, the mist not mist,
At midnight she comes, and goes again at dawn.
She comes like a spring dream- how long will she stay?
She goes like morning cloud, without a trace.
To a Sea Shell
© Hubert Church
Friend of my chamber-O thou spiral shell
That murmurest of the ever-murmuring sea!
The Water-Witch
© Alice Guerin Crist
The little creek went winding down
Twixt whispering reeds and small blue flowers,
Singing a pleasant summer song
Of holidays and playtime hours.
There Is But One May In The Year,
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
There is but one May in the year,
And sometimes May is wet and cold;
The Rival Poet Sonnets (78 - 86)
© William Shakespeare
NOTE: A sub-group within the Fair Youth sonnets,
the Rival Poet sonnets are poems in which
the speaker is railing against the young man
for paying undue attention to another poet.
The Battle-Field
© William Cullen Bryant
Once this soft turf, this rivulet's sands,
Were trampled by a hurrying crowd,
And fiery hearts and armed hands
Encountered in the battle cloud.
To Sara
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
One kiss, dear maid! I said and sighed,
Your scorn the little boon denied.
Ah why refuse the blameless bliss?
Can danger lurk within a kiss?
To S. F. S.
© George MacDonald
They say that lonely sorrows do not chance:
More gently, I think, sorrows together go;
The Cockatoo; From The Chinese
© Robert Laurence Binyon
A present from tropical Annam,
A bird with a human speech,
A gloriously plumed cockatoo
Rosy as the flower of a peach!
The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 13
© William Langland
And I awaked therwith, witlees nerhande,
And as a freke that fey were, forth gan I walke
The Nut-Brown Maid. A Poem.
© Matthew Prior
Man. I am the knyght, I come by nyght
As secret as I can,
Saying, alas! thus standeth the case,
I am a banishyd man.
To an ingenious young Gentleman, on his dedicating a Poem to the Author.
© Mather Byles
To you, dear Youth, whom all the Muses own,
And great Apollo speaks his darling Son,
To Mr. Blanchard, the Celebrated Aeronaut in America
© Philip Morin Freneau
Nil mortalibus ardui est
Caelum ipsum petimus stultitia
Horace
The Three Urns
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
LIST to an Arab parable, wherein
The beauty of the Orient fancy shrines
A star-like truth, the iconoclastic West
Is blind to see, its shrewd material vision
Bent over on the foulest soils of earth,
If only gold may gild them! Hear and learn!
The Black Berrywears a Thorn in his side
© Emily Dickinson
The Black Berrywears a Thorn in his side
But no Man heard Him cry
He offers His Berry, just the same
To Partridgeand to Boy
The Vernal Age
© Philip Morin Freneau
WHERE the pheasant roosts at night,
Lonely, drowsy, out of sight,
Where the evening breezes sigh
Solitary, there stray I.
The Rebel's Surrender To Grace (Lord, What Wilt Thou Have Me to Do?)
© John Newton
Lord, thou hast won, at length I yield,
My heart, by mighty grace compelled,
Surrenders all to thee;
Against thy terrors long I strove,
But who can stand against thy love?
Love conquers even me.
To A New England Poet
© Philip Morin Freneau
Though skilled in Latin and in Greek,
And earning fifty cents a week,
Such knowledge, and the income, too,
Should teach you better what to do:
The meanest drudges, kept in pay,
Can pocket fifty cents a day.
