Poems begining by T

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The Death Baby

© Anne Sexton

I was an ice baby.
I turned to sky blue.
My tears became two glass beads.
My mouth stiffened into a dumb howl.
They say it was a dream
but I remember that hardening.

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The Knitters

© Padraic Colum

WATER, I did not seek you,
Water of hollow stone;
I crossed no one's acre to find you
You were where my geese lie down.

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The Point Of View: II

© Edith Nesbit

I

In the wood of lost causes, the valley of tears,

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The Fallen Angels

© Anne Sexton

O fallen angel,
the companion within me,
whisper something holy
before you pinch me
into the grave.

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The Mother

© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

LAST night he lay within my arm,
  So small, so warm, a mystery
  To which God only held the key–
But mine to keep from fear and harm!

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The Garden

© Edith Nesbit

CHOKED with ill weeds my garden lay a-dying,
  Hard was the ground, no bud had heart to blow,
Yet shone your smile there, with your soft breath sighing:
  "Have patience, for some day the flowers will grow."

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The Fairy

© Charles Lamb

Said Ann to Matilda, "I wish that we knew

If what we've been reading of fairies be true.

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The Building Of The Cloud-Cuckoo-Town

© Aristophanes

_Mess_.--A most amazing, astonishing work it is!
  So that Theagenes and Proxenides
  Might flourish and gasconade and prance away
  Quite at their ease, both of them four-in-hand,
  Driving abreast upon the breadth of wall,
  Each in his own new chariot.

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Those Foreign Engineers

© Henry Lawson

Old Ivan McIvanovitch, with knitted brow of care,
Has climbed up from the engine-room to get a breath of air;
He slowly wipes the grease and sweat from hairy face and neck.
And from beneath his bushy brows he glowers around the deck.

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The Addict

© Anne Sexton

Don't they know that I promised to die!
I'm keeping in practice.
I'm merely staying in shape.
The pills are a mother, but better,
every color and as good as sour balls.
I'm on a diet from death.

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The Nude Swim

© Anne Sexton

On the southwest side of Capri
we found a little unknown grotto
where no people were and we
entered it completely
and let our bodies lose all
their loneliness.

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The Ballad Of The Lonely Masturbator

© Anne Sexton

The end of the affair is always death.
She's my workshop. Slippery eye,
out of the tribe of myself my breath
finds you gone. I horrify

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The Kiss

© Anne Sexton

My mouth blooms like a cut.
I've been wronged all year, tedious
nights, nothing but rough elbows in them
and delicate boxes of Kleenex calling crybaby
crybaby , you fool!

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The Lanes Of Boyhood

© Edgar Albert Guest

DOWN the lanes of boyhood, let me go once more,
Let me tread the paths of youth that I have trod before;
Let me wander once again where the skies are bright,
Freckled face and tanned of leg, roadways of delight,
Picking checkerberries as I laze along the way,
Hunting for the robin's nest — dozing in the hay.

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The Andante Of Snakes

© Arthur Symons

They weave a slow andante as in sleep,
Scaled yellow, swampy black, plague-spotted white;
With blue and lidless eyes at watch they keep
A treachery of silence; infinite

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The Starry Night

© Anne Sexton

The town does not exist
except where one black-haired tree slips
up like a drowned woman into the hot sky.
The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die.

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The Disputants

© William Carlos Williams

Upon the table in their bowl
in violent disarray
of yellow sprays, green spikes
of leaves, red pointed petals

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The Defective Record

© William Carlos Williams

Cut the bank for the fill.
Dump sand
pumped out of the river
into the old swale

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The Soughing Wind

© William Carlos Williams

Some leaves hang late, some fall
before the first frost—so goes
the tale of winter branches and old bones.

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The Late Singer

© William Carlos Williams

Here it is spring again
and I still a young man!
I am late at my singing.
The sparrow with the black rain on his breast