Poems begining by T
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The Vanishing Red
© Robert Frost
Some guttural exclamation of surprise
The Red man gave in poking about the mill
Over the great big thumping shuffling millstone
Disgusted the Miller physically as coming
From one who had no right to be heard from.
'Come, John,' he said, 'you want to see the wheel-pint?'
The Valley's Singing Day
© Robert Frost
The sound of the closing outside door was all.
You made no sound in the grass with your footfall,
As far as you went from the door, which was not far;
But had awakened under the morning star
The Star-Splitter
© Robert Frost
We've looked and looked, but after all where are we?
Do we know any better where we are,
And how it stands between the night tonight
And a man with a smoky lantern chimney?
How different from the way it ever stood?
The Kitchen Chimney
© Robert Frost
Builder, in building the little house,
In every way you may please yourself;
But please please me in the kitchen chimney:
Don't build me a chimney upon a shelf.
The Grindstone
© Robert Frost
Having a wheel and four legs of its own
Has never availed the cumbersome grindstone
To get it anywhere that I can see.
These hands have helped it go, and even race;
The Generations of Men
© Robert Frost
A governor it was proclaimed this time,
When all who would come seeking in New Hampshire
Ancestral memories might come together.
And those of the name Stark gathered in Bow,
The Flower Boat
© Robert Frost
The fisherman's swapping a yarn for a yarn
Under the hand of the village barber,
And her in the angle of house and barn
His deep-sea dory has found a harbor.
The Vain Spell
© Edith Nesbit
THE house sleeps dark and the moon wakes white,
The fields are alight with dew;
The Cocoon
© Robert Frost
As far as I can see this autumn haze
That spreading in the evening air both way,
Makes the new moon look anything but new,
And pours the elm-tree meadow full of blue,
The Vision Of The Archangels
© Rupert Brooke
They then from the sheer summit cast, and watched it fall,
Through unknown glooms, that frail black coffin - and therein
God's little pitiful Body lying, worn and thin,
And curled up like some crumpled, lonely flower-petal -
Till it was no more visible; then turned again
With sorrowful quiet faces downward to the plain.
The Census-Taker
© Robert Frost
I came an errand one cloud-blowing evening
To a slab-built, black-paper-covered house
Of one room and one window and one door,
The only dwelling in a waste cut over
The Ax-Helve
© Robert Frost
I've known ere now an interfering branch
Of alder catch my lifted ax behind me.
But that was in the woods, to hold my hand
From striking at another alder's roots,
The Man with Night Sweats
© Thom Gunn
I wake up cold, I who
Prospered through dreams of heat
Wake to their residue,
Sweat, and a clinging sheet.
To Two Sisters - On The Death Of A Younger Sister
© Samuel Rogers
Well may you sit within, and, fond of grief,
Look in each other's face, and melt in tears;
Well may you shun all counsel, all relief -
Oh she was great in mind, tho' young in years!
The World
© John Newton
See, the world for youth prepares,
Harlot-like, her gaudy snares!
Pleasures round her seem to wait,
But 'tis all a painted cheat.
To My Old Friend, William Leachman
© James Whitcomb Riley
Fer forty year and better you have been a friend to me,
Through days of sore afflictions and dire adversity,
You allus had a kind word of counsul to impart,
Which was like a healin' 'intment to the sorrow of my hart.
They Were Welcome To Their Belief
© Robert Frost
Grief may have thought it was grief.
Care may have thought it was care.
They were welcome to their belief,
The overimportant pair.
The Wood-Pile
© Robert Frost
Out walking in the frozen swamp one gray day
I paused and said, 'I will turn back from here.
No, I will go on farther- and we shall see'.
The hard snow held me, save where now and then
The Thatch
© Robert Frost
Out alone in the winter rain,
Intent on giving and taking pain.
But never was I far out of sight
Of a certain upper-window light.
The Self-Seeker
© Robert Frost
"Willis, I didn't want you here to-day:
The lawyer's coming for the company.
I'm going to sell my soul, or, rather, feet.
Five hundred dollars for the pair, you know."
