Poems begining by T
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The Temptation
© Edith Nesbit
YOU bring your love too late, dear, I have no love to buy it,
I spent my love on worthless toys, at fairs you do not know;
I am a bankrupt trader--dear eyes, do not deny it,
I could have bought your love, dear, but that was long ago.
The Evil Seekers
© Anne Sexton
We are born with luck
which is to say with gold in our mouth.
As new and smooth as a grape,
as pure as a pond in Alaska,
The Witch's Life
© Anne Sexton
When I was a child
there was an old woman in our neighborhood whom we called The Witch.
All day she peered from her second story
window
The Cut Finger
© Ellis Parker Butler
An shure, me lad, t is bleedin;
But come, me hearty laddy buck, be brave an do not cry;
A lad thats learnin readin shu'd be far beyant the heedin
Av a tiny bit o finger cut that hurrts a bit foreby.
The Gardener
© Katharine Tynan
In the garden she hath found
Herb of grace and fever-few;
Woundwort there doth much abound,
Heartsease too.
The Twelve Dancing Princesses
© Anne Sexton
The paralytic's wife
who takes her love to town,
sitting on the bar stool,
downing stingers and peanuts,
singing "That ole Ace down in the hole,"
would understand.
The Loving One Once More
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
WHY do I o'er my paper once more bend?
Ask not too closely, dearest one, I pray
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LIX
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
THE HAUNTED HOUSE
How loud the storm blew all that bitter night!
The loosened ivy tapping on the pane
Woke me and woke, again and yet again,
The Dirty Old Man
© William Allingham
In a dirty old house lived a Dirty Old Man;
Soap, towels, or brushes were not in his plan.
For forty long years, as the neighbors declared,
His house never once had been cleaned or repaired.
The Shepherd's Calendar - August
© John Clare
Harvest approaches with its bustling day
The wheat tans brown and barley bleaches grey
To A Friend Whose Work Has Come To Triumph
© Anne Sexton
Consider Icarus, pasting those sticky wintgs on,
testing that strange little tug at his shoulder blade,
and think of that first flawless moment over the lawn
of the labyrinth. Think of the difference it made!
The Fury Of Cocks
© Anne Sexton
There they are
drooping over the breakfast plates,
angel-like,
folding in their sad wing,
The Author Of The Jesus Papers Speaks
© Anne Sexton
In my dream
I milked a cow,
the terrible udder
like a great rubber lily
The Touch
© Anne Sexton
The trouble is
that I'd let my gestures freeze.
The trouble was not
in the kitchen or the tulips
but only in my head, my head.
The Palm And The Pine
© Heinrich Heine
Beneath an Indian palm a girl
Of other blood reposes;
Her cheek is clear and pale as pearl
Amid that wild of roses.
The Truth the Dead Know
© Anne Sexton
Gone, I say and walk from church,
refusing the stiff procession to the grave,
letting the dead ride alone in the hearse.
It is June. I am tired of being brave.
The Wifebeater
© Anne Sexton
There will be mud on the carpet tonight
and blood in the gravy as well.
The wifebeater is out,
the childbeater is out
