Poems begining by T
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The Wreck of the Steamer 'London', while on her way to Australia
© William Topaz McGonagall
Then the captain cried, Lower down the small boats,
And see if either of them sinks or floats;
Then the small boats were launched on the stormy wave,
And each one tried hard his life to save
From a merciless watery grave.
The Poets Of The Tomb
© Henry Lawson
The world has had enough of bards who wish that they were dead,
'Tis time the people passed a law to knock 'em on the head,
For 'twould be lovely if their friends could grant the rest they crave -
Those bards of `tears' and `vanished hopes', those poets of the grave.
They say that life's an awful thing, and full of care and gloom,
They talk of peace and restfulness connected with the tomb.
The Scallop Shell
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
A scallop shell, loosed by the lifting tide,
Had left a friendly shore, the seas to brave;
The Wood Far Inland
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I CLOSE mine eyes in this lone inland place,
This wood, far inland, thronged with sombrous trees--
Our southland pines--in whose dark boughs the breeze
Mourns like a spirit shorn of joy and grace;
The Phoenix
© George Darley
O Blest unfabled Incense Tree,
That burns in glorious Araby,
With red scent chalicing the air,
Till earth-life grow Elysian there!
The Encyclopaedia
© Vachel Lindsay
"If I could set the moon upon
This table," said my friend,
"Among the standard poets
And brouchures without end,
The Reunion
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The gulf of seven and fifty years
We stretch our welcoming hands across;
The distance but a pebble's toss
Between us and our youth appears.
To Reformers in Despair
© Vachel Lindsay
'Tis not too late to build our young land right,
Cleaner than Holland, courtlier than Japan,
Devout like early Rome, with hearths like hers,
Hearths that will recreate the breed called man.
The Grenadier's Good-Bye
© Sir Henry Newbolt
"When Lieutenant Murray fell, the only words he spoke were,
'Forward, Grenadiers!'"---Press Telegram.
The Hearth Eternal
© Vachel Lindsay
There dwelt a widow learned and devout,
Behind our hamlet on the eastern hill.
Three sons she had, who went to find the world.
They promised to return, but wandered still.
The Beginner
© Rudyard Kipling
Lo! What is this that I make - sudden, supreme, unrehearsed -
This that my clutch in the crowd pressed at a venture has raised?
Forward and onward I sprang when I thought (as I ought) I reversed,
And a cab like martagon opes and I sit in the wreckage dazed.
The Portrait
© Siegfried Sassoon
I watch you, gazing at me from the wall,
And wonder how you'd match your dreams with mine,
If, mastering time's illusion, I could call
You back to share this quiet candle-shine.
To Jane Addams at the Hague
© Vachel Lindsay
Lady of Light, and our best woman, and queen,
Stand now for peace, (though anger breaks your heart),
Though naught but smoke and flame and drowning is seen.
The Waiter At The Camp
© Edgar Albert Guest
The officers' friend is the waiter at camp.
In the night air 'twas cold and was bitterly damp,
And they asked me to dine, which I readily did,
For at dining I've talents I never keep hid.
Then a bright-eyed young fellow came in with the meat,
And straightway the troop of us started to eat.
