Poems begining by T
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There's No To-Morrow
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
The Tale's a Jest, the Moral is a Truth;
To-Morrow and To-Morrow, cheat our Youth:
In riper Age, To-Morrow still we cry,
Not thinking, that the present Day we Dye;
Unpractis'd all the Good we had Design'd;
There's No To-Morrow to a Willing Mind.
The Only Daughter. Illustration of a Picture
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
They bid me strike the idle strings,
As if my summer days
There Will Come Soft Rains
© Sara Teasdale
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
The Path Through The Snow
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
BARE and sunshiny, bright and bleak,
Rounded cold as a dead maid's cheek,
Folded white as a sinner's shroud,
Or wandering angel's robes of cloud.--
Well I know, well I know
Over the fields the path through the snow.
The Temple Tank
© Govinda Krishna Chettur
Here, by this pool, where herons stand and wait,
In quietness I cannot imitate:
Things
© Lisel Mueller
What happened is, we grew lonely
living among the things,
so we gave the clock a face,
the chair a back,
the table four stout legs
which will never suffer fatigue.
The Miller's Bold Daughter
© Wilhelm Busch
Es heult der Sturm, die Nacht ist graus,
Die Lampe schimmert im Müllerhaus.
The Laughter Of Women
© Lisel Mueller
The laughter of women sets fire
to the Halls of Injustice
and the false evidence burns
to a beautiful white lightness
To Certain Poets
© Joyce Kilmer
Now is the rhymer's honest trade
A thing for scornful laughter made.
The merchant's sneer, the clerk's disdain,
These are the burden of our pain.
The Fourth Shepherd
© Joyce Kilmer
O Whiteness, whiter than the fleece
Of new-washed sheep on April sod!
O Breath of Life, O Prince of Peace,
O Lamb of God, O Lamb of God!
The Linden Avenue
© Boris Pasternak
A house of unimagined beauty
Is set in parkland, cool and dark;
Gates with an arch; then meadows, hillocks,
And oats and woods beyond the park.
To a Blackbird and His Mate Who Died in the Spring
© Joyce Kilmer
(For Kenton)An iron hand has stilled the throats
That throbbed with loud and rhythmic glee
And dammed the flood of silver notes
That drenched the world in melody.
The Cathedral of Rheims
© Joyce Kilmer
(From the French of Emile Verhaeren)He who walks through the meadows of Champagne
At noon in Fall, when leaves like gold appear,
Sees it draw near
Like some great mountain set upon the plain,
The Apartment House
© Joyce Kilmer
Severe against the pleasant arc of sky
The great stone box is cruelly displayed.
The street becomes more dreary from its shade,
And vagrant breezes touch its walls and die.
To A Fish
© James Henry Leigh Hunt
O scaly, slippery, wet, swift, staring wights,
What is't ye do? What life lead? eh, dull goggles?
How do ye vary your vile days and nights?
How pass your Sundays? Are ye still but joggles
In ceaseless wash? Still naught but gapes and bites,
And drinks and stares, diversified with boggles?
The Annunciation
© Joyce Kilmer
(For Helen Parry Eden)"Hail Mary, full of grace," the Angel saith.
Our Lady bows her head, and is ashamed;
She has a Bridegroom Who may not be named,
Her mortal flesh bears Him Who conquers death.
The Visitation
© Joyce Kilmer
(For Louise Imogen Guiney)There is a wall of flesh before the eyes
Of John, who yet perceives and hails his King.
It is Our Lady's painful bliss to bring
Before mankind the Glory of the skies.
The White Ships and the Red
© Joyce Kilmer
(For Alden March)With drooping sail and pennant
That never a wind may reach,
They float in sunless waters
Beside a sunless beach.
