Poems begining by T

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Trade Circular

© Kenneth Slessor

(To the Poets' Ladies)
SHALL I give you the Bourbon-sugars
Of sherry and yellow sky
And a girl in a country curricle

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The Fate of the Explorers (A Fragment)

© Henry Kendall

Through that night he uttered little, rambling were the words he spoke:
And he turned and died in silence, when the tardy morning broke.
Many memories come together whilst in sight of death we dwell,
Much of sweet and sad reflection through the weary mind must well.
As those long hours glided past him, till the east with light was fraught,
Who may know the mournful secret — who can tell us what he thought?

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To Shakespeare (III)

© Frances Anne Kemble

Shelter and succour such as common men

  Afford the weaker partners of their fate,

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The Ruin And Its Flowers

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

  Breathe, fragrance! breathe, enrich the air,
  Tho' wasted on its wing unknown!
  Blow, flow'rets! blow, tho' vainly fair,
  Neglected and alone!

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The Elements

© John Henry Newman

MAN is permitted much  

 To scan and learn  

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The Captains

© Henry Lawson

The Captains sailed in rotten ships, with often rotten crews,
Because their lands were ignorant and meaner than the ooze;
With money furnished them by Greed, or by ambition mean,
When they had crawled to some pig-faced, pig-hearted king or queen.

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The Morning Song of the Jungle

© Rudyard Kipling

One moment past our bodies cast

 No shadow on the plain;

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The Old Sexton

© William Henry Drummond

I know very well t'was purty hard case
If dere 's not on de worl' some beeger place
Dan village of Cote St. Paul,
But we got mebbe sixty-five house or more
Wit' de blacksmit' shop an' two fine store
Not to speak of de church an' de city hall.

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The Song of Arda: (From “Annatanam”.)

© Henry Kendall

LOW as a lute, my love, beneath the call

Of storm, I hear a melancholy wind;

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To A Greek Girl

© Henry Austin Dobson

WITH breath of thyme and bees that hum,  

Across the years you seem to come,—  

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The Dance To Death. Act V

© Emma Lazarus


LIEBHAID.
The air hangs sultry as in mid-July.
Look forth, Claire; moves not some big thundercloud
Athwart the sky?  My heart is sick.

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The Toy-Maker

© Padraic Colum

I AM the Toy-maker; I have brought from the town
As much in my plack as should fetch a whole crown,
I'll array for you now my stock of renown
And man's the raree will show you.

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The Carillon

© John Le Gay Brereton

  Alone
  I sit in the dusk and see
  Surely the living faces, dear to me,
  Of comrades who have thrown
  All that they had, the fruit of all desire,
  Upon an altar fire.

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The House Of Dust: Part 01: 03:

© Conrad Aiken

One, where the pale sea foamed at the yellow sand,
With wave upon slowly shattering wave,
Turned to the city of towers as evening fell;
And slowly walked by the darkening road toward it;
And saw how the towers darkened against the sky;
And across the distance heard the toll of a bell.

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The Reward

© James Weldon Johnson

No greater earthly boon than this I crave,
That those who some day gather 'round my grave,
In place of tears, may whisper of me then,
"He sang a song that reached the hearts of men."

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Trinitas

© John Greenleaf Whittier

At morn I prayed, "I fain would see
How Three are One, and One is Three;
Read the dark riddle unto me."

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The Lazy Writer

© Bert Leston Taylor

In summer I’m disposed to shirk,

As summer is no time to work.

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The Scene Behind The Carriage Window Panes

© Paul Verlaine

The scene behind the carriage window-panes
Goes flitting past in furious flight; whole plains
With streams and harvest-fields and trees and blue
Are swallowed by the whirlpool, whereinto
The telegraph's slim pillars topple o'er,
Whose wires look strangely like a music-score.