Poems begining by T
/ page 699 of 916 /The Hunters in the Snow
© William Carlos Williams
The over-all picture is winter
icy mountains
in the background the return
The Last Words Of My English Grandmother
© William Carlos Williams
There were some dirty plates
and a glass of milk
beside her on a small table
near the rank, disheveled bed
The Oats
© Jeppe Aakjaer
Here I stand with tinkling bells galore,
Twenty on each straw, I think, or more.
But the farmer, bless his honest soul,
Calls me oats and speaks of twenty fold.
The Crowd At The Ball Game
© William Carlos Williams
The crowd at the ball game
is moved uniformly
by a spirit of uselessness
which delights them
The Thing
© William Carlos Williams
Each time it rings
I think it is for
me but it is
not for me nor for
The Widow's Lament In Springtime
© William Carlos Williams
Sorrow is my own yard
where the new grass
flames as it has flamed
often before but not
The Ivy Crown
© William Carlos Williams
The whole process is a lie,
unless,
crowned by excess,
It break forcefully,
To A Vain Lady
© George Gordon Byron
Ah! heedless girl! why thus disclose
What ne'er was meant for other ears:
Why thus destroy thine own repose
And dig the source of future tears?
The Princess (part 2)
© Alfred Tennyson
At break of day the College Portress came:
She brought us Academic silks, in hue
The Dance
© William Carlos Williams
In Breughel's great picture, The Kermess,
the dancers go round, they go round and
around, the squeal and the blare and the
tweedle of bagpipes, a bugle and fiddles
The Black Wallflower
© Frances Anne Kemble
Lo! with the dawn the black buds open'd slowly;
Within each cup a colour deep and holy,
As sacrificial blood, glow'd rich and red,
And through the velvet tissue mantling spread;
While in the midst of this dark crimson heat
A precious golden heart did throb and beat;
Transition
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
A little while to walk with thee, dear child;
To lean on thee my weak and weary head;
Then evening comes: the winter sky is wild,
The leafless trees are black, the leaves long dead.
The Red Wheelbarrow
© William Carlos Williams
so much depends
upona red wheel
barrowglazed with rain
waterbeside the white
The Deserted Lover
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
I go through wet spring woods alone,
Through sweet green woods with heart of stone,
To the Myrtle
© Mary Darby Robinson
UNFADING branch of verdant hue,
In modest sweetness drest,
Shake off thy pearly tears of dew,
And decorate my breast.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. Interlude VI.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Thus closed the tale of guilt and gloom,
That cast upon each listener's face