Poems begining by T
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The Easter Flower
© Claude McKay
Far from this foreign Easter damp and chilly
My soul steals to a pear-shaped plot of ground,
Where gleamed the lilac-tinted Easter lily
Soft-scented in the air for yards around;
The Castaways
© Claude McKay
The vivid grass with visible delight
Springing triumphant from the pregnant earth,
The butterflies, and sparrows in brief flight
Chirping and dancing for the season's birth,
The Flower
© Alfred Tennyson
Once in a golden hour
I cast to earth a seed.
Up there came a flower,
The people said, a weed.
The Harps of Heaven
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
On a solemn day
I clomb the shining bulwark of the skies:
The House Of Socrates
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
FOR Socrates a House was built,
Of but inferiour Size;
Not highly Arch'd, nor Carv'd, nor Gilt;
The Man, 'tis said, was Wise.
The First Part: Sonnet 6 - Vaunt not, fair heavens, of your two glorious lights
© William Henry Drummond
Vaunt not, fair heavens, of your two glorious lights
Which, though most bright, yet see not when they shine,
The Dancer Of The Daughters Of Herodias
© Arthur Symons
Is it the petals falling from the rose?
For in the silence I can hear a sound
Third Sunday In Advent
© John Keble
What went ye out to see
O'er the rude sandy lea,
Where stately Jordan flows by many a palm,
Or where Gennesaret's wave
Delights the flowers to lave,
That o'er her western slope breathe airs of balm.
Tinker Jack And The Tidy Wives
© Sylvia Plath
Come lady, bring that pot
Gone black of polish
And whatever pan this mending master
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. Finale
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The hour was late; the fire burned low,
The Landlord's eyes were closed in sleep,
The Lost One
© Caroline Norton
COME to the grave--the silent grave! and dream
Of a light, happy voice--so full of joy,
That those who heard her laugh, would laugh again,
Echoing the mirth of such an innocent spirit;
The Trumpet Call
© Alfred Noyes
Trumpeter, sound for the last Crusade!
Sound for the fire of the red-cross kings,
Sound for the passion, the splendour, the pity
That swept the world for a dead Man's sake,
The Progress of Advice. A Common Case
© William Shenstone
Suade, nam cerium est.
Explanation.
Advise it, for 'tis fixed.
To my dead friend Ben Johnson
© Henry King
I see that wreath which doth the wearer arm
'Gainst the quick strokes of thunder, is no charm
To keep off deaths pale dart. For, Johnson then
Thou hadst been number'd still with living men.
The Voyage Of St. Brendan A.D. 545 - The Promised Land
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
As on this world the young man turns his eyes,
When forced to try the dark sea of the grave,
Thus did we gaze upon that Paradise,
Fading, as we were borne across the wave.
Three Palinodias - 03 Rain And Rainbow
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
DURING a heavy storm it chanced
That from his room a cockney glanced
The Duellist - Book III
© Charles Churchill
Ah me! what mighty perils wait
The man who meddles with a state,
The Blackbird Of Derrycairn
© Austin Clarke
Stop, stop and listen for the bough top
Is whistling and the sun is brighter
Than God's own shadow in the cup now!
Forget the hour-bell. Mournful matins
Will sound, Patric, as well at nightfall.
The Dance To Death. Act I
© Emma Lazarus
This play is dedicated, in profound veneration and respect, to the
memory of George Eliot, the illustrious writer, who did most among
the artists of our day towards elevating and ennobling the spirit
of Jewish nationality.
The Little Orphan
© Edgar Albert Guest
Then through the hot and sultry day he plays at "make-pretend,"
The alley is a sandy beach where all the rich folks send
Their little boys and girls to play, a barrel is his boat,
But, oh, the air is tifling and the dust fills up his throat;
And though he tries so very hard to play, somehow it seems
He never gets such wondrous joys as angels bring in dreams.
