Poems begining by T
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The Potatoes' Dance
© Vachel Lindsay
(A Poem Game.)
I"Down cellar," said the cricket,
"Down cellar," said the cricket,
"Down cellar," said the cricket,
The Stealing Of The Mare - VII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Said the Narrator:
And when they had lit the fire, while Alia watched the kindling, behold, her fear was great, and her eyes looked to the right and to the left hand, because that Abu Zeyd had promised her that he would return to the camp; and while she was in this wise, suddenly she saw Abu Zeyd standing in the midst of the Arabs who were around her. And he was in disguisement as a dervish, or one of those who ask alms. And he saw that she was about to speak. But he signed to her that she should be silent: as it were he would say, ``Fear not, for I am here.'' And when she was sure that it was indeed he Abu Zeyd and none other, then smiled she on him very sweetly, and said, ``Thine be the victory, and I will be thy ransom. Nor shall thy enemies prevail against thee.'' But he answered with a sign, ``Of a surety thou shalt see somewhat that shall astonish thee.'' And this he said as the flames of the fire broke forth.
Now the cause of the coming of Abu Zeyd to the place was in this wise. After that he had gone away, and had taken with him the mare, and that his mind had entered into its perplexity as to what might befall Alia from her father, lest he should seize on her and inquire what had happened, and why she had cared nothing for her own people or for her wounded brother, and why she had cried to Abu Zeyd, then said he to himself, ``Of a surety I must return to her, and ascertain the event.'' And looking about him, he made discovery of a cave known as yet to no man, and he placed in it the mare, and gathered grass for her, and closed the door of the cave with stones. Then clothing himself as a dervish, he made his plan how he should return to the tents of Agheyl. And forthwith he found Alia in the straits already told, and he made his thought known to her by signs, and by signs she gave him to understand her answers.
And at this point the Narrator began again to sing, and it was in the following verses:
The Hope of the Resurrection
© Vachel Lindsay
Though I have watched so many mourners weep
O'er the real dead, in dull earth laid asleep
Those dead seemed but the shadows of my days
That passed and left me in the sun's bright rays.
The speech of silence
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
The solemn Sea of Silence lies between us;
I know thou livest, and them lovest me,
And yet I wish some white ship would come sailing
Across the ocean, beating word from thee.
The Knight in Disguise
© Vachel Lindsay
Is this Sir Philip Sidney, this loud clown,
The darling of the glad and gaping town?
The Longest Day
© George Meredith
On yonder hills soft twilight dwells
And Hesper burns where sunset dies,
The Angels
© William Henry Drummond
Run, shepherds, run where Bethlehem blest appears.
We bring the best of news; be not dismayed:
The Prarie Battlements
© Vachel Lindsay
Alice has a prarie grave.
The King and Queen lie low,
And aged Grandma Silver Dreams,
Four toombstones in a row.
But still in snow and sunshine
Stands our ancestral hall.
The Ideal
© Charles Harpur
Spirit of Dreams! When many a toilsome height
Shut paradise from exiled Adams sight,
The North Star Whispers to the Blacksmith's Son
© Vachel Lindsay
THE North Star whispers: "You are one
Of those whose course no chance can change.
You blunder, but are not undone,
Your spirit-task is fixed and strange.
The Perfect Marriage
© Vachel Lindsay
I hate this yoke; for the world's sake here put it on:
Knowing 'twill weigh as much on you till life is gone.
Knowing you love your freedom dear, as I love mine
Knowing that love unchained has been our life's great wine:
Our one great wine (yet spent too soon, and serving none;
Of the two cups free love at last the deadly one).
The Passions. An Ode to Music
© William Taylor Collins
First Fear his hand, its skill to try,
Amid the chords bewilder'd laid,
And back recoil'd, he knew not why,
Ev'n at the sound himself had made.
To Lady Jane
© Vachel Lindsay
Romance was always young.
You come today
Just eight years old
With marvellous dark hair.
There Are Holes In The Sky
© Spike Milligan
There are holes in the sky
Where the rain gets in
But they're ever so small
That's why the rain is thin.
The Moon is a Painter
© Vachel Lindsay
He coveted her portrait.
He toiled as she grew gay.
She loved to see him labor
In that devoted way.
To Gloriana
© Vachel Lindsay
GIRL with the burning golden eyes,
And red-bird song, and snowy throat:
I bring you gold and silver moons,
And diamond stars, and mists that float.
The Whistle by Kathy Mangan : American Life in Poetry #242 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
There are lots of poems in which a poet expresses belated appreciation for a parent, and if you don’t know Robert Hayden’s poem, “Those Winter Sundays,” you ought to look it up sometime. In this lovely sonnet, Kathy Mangan, of Maryland, contributes to that respected tradition.
The Whistle
The Congo: A Study of the Negro Race
© Vachel Lindsay
I. THEIR BASIC SAVAGERYFat black bucks in a wine-barrel room,
Barrel-house kings, with feet unstable,
Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table,
A deep rolling bass.
The Sepulchre Of Memory
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
And where is truth? On tombs? for such to thee
Has been my heartand thy dead memory
Has lain from childhood, many a changeful year,
Unchangingly preserved and buried there.
