Poems begining by T
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The Telephone Number
© Vernon Scannell
Searching for a lost address I find,
Among dead papers in a dusty drawer,
The Woman That Lifted Up Her Voice
© George MacDonald
Filled with his words of truth and right,
Her heart will break or cry:
A woman's cry bursts forth in might
Of loving agony.
Theme For English B
© Langston Hughes
Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you--
Then, it will be true.
The Negro Mother
© Langston Hughes
Three hundred years in the deepest South:
But God put a song and a prayer in my mouth .
God put a dream like steel in my soul.
Now, through my children, I'm reaching the goal.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Musician's Tale; The Ballad of Carmilhan - IV.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
And now along the horizon's edge
Mountains of cloud uprose,
Black as with forests underneath,
Above their sharp and jagged teeth
Were white as drifted snows.
The Harp Of Hoel
© William Lisle Bowles
It was a high and holy sight,
When Baldwin and his train,
With cross and crosier gleaming bright,
Came chanting slow the solemn rite,
To Gwentland's pleasant plain.
The High-Heeled Boots
© Arthur Chapman
He stands upon the city street, keen-eyed, and brown of face,
He seems to bring a breath of air from some broad prairie space;
Hes perched upon a pair of heels that fit the stirrups curve,
That meet the bucking broncos plunge and counteract each swerve;
And of all the chaps with whom the gods are ever in cahoots
Give me the cattle-puncher in the high-heeled boots.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: CXIV
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A LATER DEDICATION
To her the sweetest, fairest, worthiest one,
Who the inspirer is of my new praise,
Whom lately once, one Autumn afternoon,
The City Planners
© Margaret Atwood
give momentary access to
the landscape behind or under
the future cracks in the plaster
The Shadow Voice
© Margaret Atwood
Isn't the moon warm
enough for you
why do you need
the blanket of another body
The Watchman
© Ada Cambridge
To mothers and to men;
To take him for our heaven-sent guide
On seas he never voyaged-wide
And wild beyond his ken.
To-Morrow (From The Spanish Of Lope De Vega)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Lord, what am I, that with unceasing care
Thou did'st seek after me, that Thou did'st wait
The Moment
© Margaret Atwood
The moment when, after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,
knowing at last how you got there,
and say, I own this,
The Charge Of The Bread Brigade
© Ezra Pound
See 'em go slouching there,
With cowed and crouching air
Dundering dullards!
How the whole nation shook
While Milord Beaverbrook
Fed 'em with hogwash!
The Rest
© Margaret Atwood
The rest of us watch from beyond the fence
as the woman moves with her jagged stride
into her pain as if into a slow race.
We see her body in motion
The Death of Mary
© Charles Wolfe
I do not think, where'er thou art,
Thou hast forgotten me;
And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart
In thinking too of thee!
Thew Wind
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
What is thy message, could I seek
From thrall of this sad soul to break?
And if this pagan heart could speak,
What answer to thy passion?
To The Same (Charles Walker again)
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
CHARLEY Here I am at last
Quartered in my old position,
