Poems begining by T
/ page 610 of 916 /The Haglets
© Herman Melville
There, peaked and gray, three haglets fly,
And follow, follow fast in wake
Where slides the cabin-lustre shy,
And sharks from man a glamour take,
Seething along the line of light
In lane that endless rules the war-ship's flight.
The Sitter
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Mrs. McTwitter was the baby-sitter
I think she's a little bit crazy.
She thinks a baby-sitter's supposed
To sit upon the baby.
The Lay Of St. Odille
© Richard Harris Barham
Odille was a maid of a dignified race;
Her father, Count Otto, was lord of Alsace;
The Swamp Fox
© William Gilmore Simms
What! 't is the signal! start so soon,
And through the Santee swamp so deep,
Without the aid of friendly moon,
And we, Heaven help us! half asleep!
To The Merchants Of Bought Dreams
© Arthur Symons
I buy no more from merchants of bought dreams,
For I have greater memories than these bring
The Dictators
© Pablo Neruda
An odor has remained among the sugarcane:
a mixture of blood and body, a penetrating
The Vier-Zide
© William Barnes
'Tis zome vo'ks jaÿ to teäke the road,
An' goo abro'd, a-wand'rèn wide,
Vrom shere to shere, vrom pleäce to pleäce,
The swiftest peäce that vo'k can ride.
But I've a jaÿ 'ithin the door,
Wi' friends avore the vier-zide.
The End Of The Furrow
© William Wilfred Campbell
When we come to the end of the furrow,
When our last day's work is done,
We will drink of the long red shaft of light
That slants from the westering sun.
The Legend of St. Mark
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The day is closing dark and cold,
With roaring blast and sleety showers;
And through the dusk the lilacs wear
The bloom of snow, instead of flowers.
The Thistle
© Robert Laurence Binyon
In a patch of baked earth
At the crumbled cliff's brink,
Where the parching of August
Has cracked a long chink,
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XLI
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
THE SAME CONTINUED
We may not meet. I could not for pride's sake
Dissemble further, and I suffer pain,
A palpable distinct and physical ache,
The Willow Bottom
© Madison Julius Cawein
Lush green the grass that grows between
The willows of the bottom-land;
Verged by the careless water, tall and green,
The brown-topped cat-tails stand.
The Fields Of Even
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
O STILLER than the fields that lie
Beneath the morning heaven,
And sweeter than day's gardens are
The purple fields of even!
To Her Father with Some Verses
© Anne Bradstreet
Most truly honoured, and as truly dear,
If worth in me or ought I do appear,
Who can of right better demand the same
Than may your worthy self from whom it came?
The Four Ages of Man
© Anne Bradstreet
1.1 Lo now! four other acts upon the stage,
1.2 Childhood, and Youth, the Manly, and Old-age.
1.3 The first: son unto Phlegm, grand-child to water,
1.4 Unstable, supple, moist, and cold's his Nature.
The House Delirious
© Leon Gellert
These corridors! These corridors and halls!
This change of light and gathered mystery:
These whisperings; this silent dust that palls
The buried gone are mine-a solemn property.
The Art Of War. Book I.
© Henry James Pye
I'll paint the cruel arm from Bayonne nam'd,
Where savage art a new destruction fram'd,
Their powers combin'd where fire and steel impart,
And point a double wound at every heart.
The Last Flower
© Alexander Pushkin
Rich the first flower's graces be,
But dearer far the last to me;
My spirit feels renewal sweet,
Of all my dreams hope or desire--
The hours of parting oft inspire
More than the moments when we meet!