Poems begining by T
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To A False Friend
© Thomas Hood
Our hands have met, but not our hearts;
Our hands will never meet again.
The Rising Sun
© George Moses Horton
The king of day rides on,
To give the placid morning birth;
On wheels of glory moves his throne,
Whose light adorns the earth.
The Milk-Maid O The Farm
© William Barnes
O Poll's the milk-maïd o' the farm!
An' Poll's so happy out in groun',
Wi' her white païl below her eärm
As if she wore a goolden crown.
The Harvest
© William Rose Benet
Yon lie the fields all golden with grain,
(Oh, come, ye Harvesters, reap!)
The Meeting
© George Meredith
The old coach-road through a common of furze,
With knolls of pine, ran white;
Berries of autumn, with thistles, and burrs,
And spider-threads, droop'd in the light.
The True Born Englishman (excerpt)
© Daniel Defoe
Which medly canton'd in a heptarchy,
A rhapsody of nations to supply,
Among themselves maintain'd eternal wars,
And still the ladies lov'd the conquerors.
The Potato Eaters by Leonard E. Nathan: American Life in Poetry #7 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 20
© Ted Kooser
Leonard Nathan is a master of short poems in which two or three figures are placed on what can be seen to be a stage, as in a drama. Here, as in other poems like it, the speaker's sentences are rich with implications. This is the title work from Nathan's book from Orchises Press (1999):
The Potato Eaters
Sometimes, the naked taste of potato
reminds me of being poor.
The Climber
© Virna Sheard
He stood alone on Fame's high mountain top,
His hands at rest, his forehead bound with bay;
And yet he watched with eyes unsatisfied
The downward winding way.
The Foolish Traveller; Or, A Good Inn Is A Bad Home
© Hannah More
There was a Prince of high degree,
As great and good as Prince could be;
Much power and wealth were in his hand,
With Lands and Lordships at command.
The Family Laramie
© William Henry Drummond
Hssh! look at ba-bee on de leetle blue chair,
W'at you t'ink hes tryin' to do?
The Soul-Conflict
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
DEFEATED! but never disheartened!
Repulsed! but unconquered in will,
Upon dreary discomfitures building
Her virtue's strong battlements still,
Third Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
O hateful spell of Sin! when friends are nigh,
To make stern Memory tell her tale unsought,
And raise accusing shades of hours gone by,
To come between us and all kindly thought!
The Midnight Skaters
© Edmund Blunden
Then on, blood shouts, on, on,
Twirl, wheel and whip above him,
Dance on this ball-floor thin and wan,
Use him as though you love him;
Court him, elude him, reel and pass,
And let him hate you through the glass.
The Log Jam
© William Henry Drummond
Dere 'a s beeg jam up de reever, w'ere rapide is runnin' fas',
An' de log we cut las' winter is takin' it all de room;
The Breeze at Dawn
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep.
The Dangerous Little Boy Fairies
© Vachel Lindsay
In fairyland the little boys
Would rather fight than eat their meals.
The Song Of Gracia
© George Essex Evans
A touch, a joy, a something there
That for my sake hath never shone;
Too well I deem in my despair
Her fairest dream I may not share,
And she is gone
