Poems begining by T

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The Call Of The Christian

© John Greenleaf Whittier

Not always as the whirlwind's rush

On Horeb's mount of fear,

The Coin

© Sara Teasdale

INTO my heart's treasury
I slipped a coin
That time cannot take
Nor a thief purloin,

They pointed me out on the highway, and they said
'That man has a curious way of holding his head.'They pointed me out on the beach; they said 'That man
Will never become as we are, try as he can.'They pointed me out at the station, and the guard
Looked at me twice, thrice, thoughtfully & hard.I took the same train that the others took,

The Maid-Servant At The Inn

© Dorothy Parker

"It's queer," she said; "I see the light
As plain as I beheld it then,
All silver-like and calm and bright-
We've not had stars like that again!

The Ball Poem

© John Berryman

What is the boy now, who has lost his ball,
What, what is he to do? I saw it go
Merrily bouncing, down the street, and then
Merrily overthere it is in the water!

The Cloud's Swan-Song

© Francis Thompson

There is a parable in the pathless cloud,
There's prophecy in heaven,--they did not lie,
The Chaldee shepherds; seal-ed from the proud,
To cheer the weighted heart that mates the seeing eye.

The Curse

© John Berryman

Cedars and the westward sun.
The darkening sky. A man alone
Watches beside the fallen wall
The evening multitudes of sin

The State

© Piet Hein

Nature, our father and mother,
gave us all we have got.
The state, our elder brother,
swipes the lot.

The Virgin Martyr

© Ada Cambridge

Every wild she-bird has nest and mate in the warm April weather,
But a captive woman, made for love - no mate, no nest has she.
In the spring of young desire, young men and maids are wed together,
And the happy mothers flaunt their bliss for all the world to see:
Nature's sacramental feast for these - an empty board for me.

The Ashes by Karin Gottshall: American Life in Poetry #21 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006

© Ted Kooser

How many of us, alone at a grave or coming upon the site of some remembered event, find ourselves speaking to a friend or loved one who has died? In this poem by Karin Gottshall the speaker addresses someone's ashes as she casts them from a bridge. I like the way the ashes take on new life as they merge with the wind.
The Ashes

You were carried here by hands
and now the wind has you, gritty
as incense, dark sparkles borne

To All and Everything

© Vladimir Mayakovsky

Above the capitals madness
I raised my face,
stern as the faces of ancient icons.
Sorrow-rent,
on your body as on a death-bed, its days
my heart ended.

The First Part: Sonnet 3 - Ye who so curiously do paint your thoughts,

© William Henry Drummond

Ye who so curiously do paint your thoughts,

Enlight'ning ev'ry line in such a guise,

The Plot Against the Giant

© Wallace Stevens

Second Girl
I shall run before him,
Arching cloths besprinkled with colors
As small as fish-eggs.
The threads
Will abash him.

The Immoral Proposition

© Robert Creeley

If you never do anything for anyone else

you are spared the tragedy of human relation-

The Sailing Of The Long-Ships

They saw the cables loosened, they saw the gangways cleared,
They heard the women weeping, they heard the men that cheered;
Far off, far off, the tumult faded and died away,
And all alone the sea-wind came singing up the Bay.

The Swan

This laboring through what is still undone,
as though, legs bound, we hobbled along the way,
is like the awkward walking of the swan.

The Return of Frankenstein

© Edward Field

He didn't die in the whirlpool by the mill
where he had fallen in after a wild chase
by all the people of the town.

Two Centuries

Above the tall elms' green-plumed tops, etched against low-hung, gray-hued skies,
Straight as the heaven-kissing pine, the home-bound mariner descries
The goodly spire of the old first church, reverend, serene, with old-time grace,
Symbol and sign of an inner life deep-sealed by time's slow carven trace.