Poems begining by T
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To My Brother, Basil E. Kendall
© Henry Kendall
TO-NIGHT the sea sends up a gulf-like sound,
And ancient rhymes are ringing in my head,
The Rook And The Sparrows
© Charles Lamb
A little boy with crumbs of bread
Many a hungry sparrow fed.
The Old Home By The Mill
© James Whitcomb Riley
This is "The old Home by the Mill"--far we still call it so,
Although the old mill, roof and sill, is all gone long ago.
The old home, though, and old folks, and the old spring, and a few
Old cat-tails, weeds and hartychokes, is left to welcome you!
The Forest Greeting
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
GOOD hunting! aye, good hunting,
Wherever the forests call;
To Italy
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
As the sunrise to the night,
As the north wind to the clouds,
As the earthquake's fiery flight,
Ruining mountain solitudes,
Everlasting Italy,
Be those hopes and fears on thee.
The Fall Of Richmond
© Frances Anne Kemble
Roll not a drumsend not a clarion note
Of haughty triumph to the silent sky!
The Home Of The Spirit
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Answer me, burning stars of night,
Where is the spirit gone,
To One Who Teaches Me
© Louisa May Alcott
"To one who teaches me
The sweetness and the beauty
Of doing faithfully
And cheerfully my duty."
To Miss D. T. On her giving me a drawing of little street arabs.
© James Russell Lowell
As, cleansed of Tiber's and Oblivion's slime,
Glow Farnesina's vaults with shapes again
To L.T. In Florence
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
You by the Arno shape your marble dream,
Under the cypress and the olive trees,
The Eutawville Lynching
© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
In the State of "Old Palmetto," from the town of Eutawville,
Comes a voice of pain and anguish that refuses to be still.
'Tis a voice that cries for vengeance for the wrongs it has received,
Yea, it asks a nation's conscience, When will justice be achieved?
The Black Knight's Song
© Sir Walter Scott
There came three merry men from south, west, and north,
Ever more sing the roundelay;
To win the Widow of Wycombe forth,
And where was the widow might say them nay?
The Heretic's Tragedy
© Robert Browning
(It would seem to be a glimpse from the
burning of Jacques du Bourg-Mulay, at Paris,
A. D. 1314; as distorted by the refraction from
Flemish brain to brain, during the course of
a couple of centuries.)
The Lady of the Lake: Canto V. - The Combat
© Sir Walter Scott
I.
Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light,
When first, by the bewildered pilgrim spied,
It smiles upon the dreary brow of night
The Foundling
© Lola Ridge
About us are white cliffs and space.
No façades show,
Nor roof nor any spire…
All sheathed in snow…
The parasitic snow
That clings about them like a blight.
The Horseshoe Shrine
© Arun Kolatkar
That nick in the rock
is really a kick in the side of the hill.
It's where a hoof
struck
The Story of the Man that went out Shooting
© Heinrich Hoffmann
This is the man that shoots the hares;
This is the coat he always wears:
With game-bag, powder-horn, and gun
He's going out to have some fun.
The Leaf-Cricket
© Madison Julius Cawein
I see thee quaintly
Beneath the leaf; thy shell-shaped winglets faintly-
(As thin as spangle
Of cobwebbed rain)-held up at airy angle;
I hear thy tinkle
With faery notes the silvery stillness sprinkle;
