Poems begining by T
/ page 701 of 916 /
The Faded Bouquet
© Mary Darby Robinson
FAIR was this blushing ROSE of May,
And fresh it hail'd morn's breezy hour,
When ev'ry spangled leaf look'd gay,
Besprinkled with the twilight show'r;
The Deserted Cottage
© Mary Darby Robinson
Who dwelt in yonder lonely Cot,
Why is it thus forsaken?
It seems, by all the world forgot,
Above its path the high grass grows,
And through its thatch the northwind blows
--Its thatch, by tempests shaken.
The Heddybee Spectre
© George Borrow
I clomb in haste my dappled steed,
And gallop'd far o'er mount and mead;
And when the day drew nigh its close,
I laid me down to take repose.
The Confessor, a Sanctified Tale
© Mary Darby Robinson
Tho' fraud is ever sure to find
Its scorpion in the guilty mind:
Yet, PIOUS FRAUD, the DEVIL'S treasure,
Is always paid, in TENFOLD MEASURE.
The Bee and the Butterfly
© Mary Darby Robinson
UPON a garden's perfum'd bed
With various gaudy colours spread,
Beneath the shelter of a ROSE
A BUTTERFLY had sought repose;
Faint, with the sultry beams of day,
Supine the beauteous insect lay.
The Alien Boy
© Mary Darby Robinson
'Twas on a Mountain, near the Western Main
An ALIEN dwelt. A solitary Hut
Built on a jutting crag, o'erhung with weeds,
Mark'd the poor Exile's home. Full ten long years
The Adieu to Love
© Mary Darby Robinson
Nor do I dread thy vengeful wiles,
Thy soothing voice, thy winning smiles,
Thy trick'ling tear, thy mien forlorn,
Thy pray'r, thy sighs, thy oaths I scorn;
No more on ME thy arrows show'r,
Capricious Love! I BRAVE THY POW'R.
Thoughts In A Zoo
© Countee Cullen
They in their cruel traps, and we in ours,
Survey each others rage, and pass the hours
The Great Slob
© Charles Bukowski
I was always a natural slob
I liked to lay upon the bed
in undershirt (stained, of
course) (and with cigarette
The Last Toast
© Anna Akhmatova
I drink to home, that is lost,
To evil life of mine,
To loneness in which were both,
And to your future, fine, --
The Dream of Man
© William Watson
To the eye and the ear of the Dreamer
This Dream out of darkness flew,
Through the horn or the ivory portal,
But he wist not which of the two.
The Lost Piece Of Silver
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
HOLY Lord Jesus, Thou wilt search till Thou find
This lost piece of silver,--this treasure enshrined
In casket or bosom, once of such store;
Now lying under the dust of Thy floor.
The Only Land For Me (A currency Lad)
© Anonymous
Prate not to me of foreign strand,
Of beauty o'er the sea -
"This is my own - my native land" -
The only land for me!
The Fetch
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
"What makes you so late at the trysting?
What caused you so long to be?
The Gallant Peter Clarke
© Anonymous
On Walden's Range at morning time
The sun shone brightly down;
It shone across the winding Page
Near Murrurundi town.
The Magnet and the Churn
© William Schwenck Gilbert
A MAGNET hung in a hardware shop,
And all around was a loving crop
The Hueless Love
© George Meredith
Unto that love must we through fire attain,
Which those two held as breath of common air;
The hands of whom were given in bond elsewhere;
Whom Honour was untroubled to restrain.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: VI
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
DEPRECIATING HER BEAUTY
I love not thy perfections. When I hear
Thy beauty blazoned, and the common tongue
Cheapening with vulgar praise a lip, an ear,
