Poems begining by T
/ page 668 of 916 /
This, My Song, Is Made For Kerensky
© Vachel Lindsay
Hail the Russian picture around the little box:
Exiles,
Troops in files,
Generals in uniform,
Mujiks in their smocks,
And holy maiden soldiers who have cut away their locks.
The Alchemist's Petition
© Vachel Lindsay
Thou wilt not sentence to eternal life
My soul that prays that it may sleep and sleep
Like a white statue dropped into the deep,
Covered with sand, covered with chests of gold,
And slave-bones, tossed from many a pirate hold.
The Soul of the City Receives the Gift of the Holy Spirit
© Vachel Lindsay
A BROADSIDE DISTRIBUTED IN SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS
Censers are swinging,
Over the town;
Censers are swinging,
To Buddha
© Vachel Lindsay
Awake again in Asia, Lord of Peace,
Awake and preach, for her far swordsmen rise.
And would they sheathe the sword before you, friend,
Or scorn your way, while looking in your eyes?
The Merciful Hand
© Vachel Lindsay
Your fine white hand is Heaven's gift
To cure the wide world, stricken sore,
Bleeding at the breast and head,
Tearing at its wounds once more.
The Narrow Road to the Deep North: Prologue
© Matsuo Basho
Behind this door
Now buried in deep grass
A different generation will celebrate
The Festival of Dolls.
To Mary Pickford
© Vachel Lindsay
Mary Pickford, doll divine,
Year by year, and every day
At the movmg-picture play,
You have been my valentine.
The Sorceress!
© Vachel Lindsay
I asked her, "Is Aladdin's lamp
Hidden anywhere?"
"Look into your heart," she said,
"Aladdin's lamp is there."
The Boys And The Apple-Tree
© Ann Taylor
As William and Thomas were walking one day,
They came by a fine orchard's side:
They would rather eat apples than spell, read, or play,
And Thomas to William then cried:
The Spice-Tree
© Vachel Lindsay
The deep roots whisper,
The branches say:
"Love to-morrow,
And love to-day,
And till Heaven's day,
And till Heaven's day."
The Wedding of the Rose and the Lotos
© Vachel Lindsay
The wide Pacific waters
And the Atlantic meet.
With cries of joy they mingle,
In tides of love they greet.
The Trap
© Vachel Lindsay
She was taught desire in the street,
Not at the angels' feet.
By the good no word was said
Of the worth of the bridal bed.
The Haughty Snail-King
© Vachel Lindsay
Twelve snails went walking after night.
They'd creep an inch or so,
Then stop and bug their eyes
And blow.
The Fairy Bridal-Hymn
© Vachel Lindsay
This is a song to the white-armed one
Cold in the breast as the frost-wrapped Spring,
Whose feet are slow on the hills of life,
Whose round mouth rules by whispering.
The Tree of Laughing Bells
© Vachel Lindsay
Like a diver after pearls
I plunged to that stifling floor.
It was wide as a giant's wheat-field
An icy, wind-washed shore.
O laughing, proud, but trembling star!
O wind that wounded sore!
The Flower of Mending
© Vachel Lindsay
When Dragon-fly would fix his wings,
When Snail would patch his house,
When moths have marred the overcoat
Of tender Mister Mouse,
The Scissors-Grinder
© Vachel Lindsay
And thus the scissors-grinder spoke,
His face at last in view.
And there beside the railroad bridge
I saw the wandering Jew.
The Gamblers
© Vachel Lindsay
Life's a jail where men have common lot.
Gaunt the one who has, and who has not.
All our treasures neither less nor more,
Bread alone comes thro' the guarded door.
Towers Of Italy
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Never were towers so fair, so bold,
Passionately springing, arrogant towers!
Nor air so blue over roofs so old,
Nor on ancient walls so rare a gold,
When I found my love among the flowers.
