Poems begining by T
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Twowere immortal twice
© Emily Dickinson
Twowere immortal twice
The privilege of few
Eternityobtainedin Time
Reversed Divinity
The Parisian Orgy
© Arthur Rimbaud
O cowards! There she is!
Pile out into the stations!
The sun with its fiery lungs blew clear
the boulevards that, one evening,
the Barbarians filled.
The Time For Deeds
© Edgar Albert Guest
We have boasted our courage in moments of ease,
Our star-spangled banner we've flung on the breeze;
We have taught men to cheer for its beauty and worth,
And have called it the flag of the bravest on earth
Now the dark days are here, we must stand to the test.
Oh, God! let us prove we are true to our best!
The Winter's Spring
© John Clare
The winter comes; I walk alone,
I want no bird to sing;
To those who keep their hearts their own
The winter is the spring.
No flowers to pleaseno bees to hum
The coming spring's already come.
Tiny Warrior
© Sharmagne Leland-St. John
You never saw the spring my love
Or the red tailed hawk circling high above
On feathered wings my love
You only knew the snow
There Were Dry Red Days
© Sharmagne Leland-St. John
by Sharmagne Leland-St.JohnThere were dry red days
Devoid of clouds
Devoid of breeze
Sound bruised
The Revolution At Market-Hill
© Jonathan Swift
From distant regions Fortune sends
An odd triumvirate of friends;
Where Phoebus pays a scanty stipend,
Where never yet a codling ripen'd:
The Word
© Edward Thomas
There are so many things I have forgot,
That once were much to me, or that were not,
All lost, as is a childless woman's child
And its child's children, in the undefiled
The Trumpet
© Edward Thomas
Rise up, rise up,
And, as the trumpet blowing
Chases the dreams of men,
As the dawn glowing
The Sign-Post
© Edward Thomas
The dim sea glints chill. The white sun is shy,
And the skeleton weeds and the never-dry,
Rough, long grasses keep white with frost
At the hill-top by the finger-post;
The Hymn Of The Wiltshire Laborers
© Charles Dickens
O God! who by Thy prophet's hand
Didst smite the rocky brake,
The Path
© Edward Thomas
RUNNING along a bank, a parapet
That saves from the precipitous wood below
The level road, there is a path. It serves
Children for looking down the long smooth steep,
The Owl
© Edward Thomas
DOWNHILL I came, hungry, and yet not starved,
Cold, yet had heat within me that was proof
Against the north wind; tired, yet so that rest
Had seemed the sweetest thing under a roof.
The New House
© Edward Thomas
NOW first, as I shut the door,
I was alone
In the new house; and the wind
Began to moan.
The Manor Farm
© Edward Thomas
THE rock-like mud unfroze a little, and rills
Ran and sparkled down each side of the road
Under the catkins wagging in the hedge.
But earth would have her sleep out, spite of the sun;
The Roads Also
© Wilfred Owen
The roads also have their wistful rest,
When the weathercocks perch still and roost,
And the looks of men turn kind to clocks
And the trams go empty to their drome.
The streets also dream their dream.
The Long Small Room
© Edward Thomas
THE long small room that showed willows in the west
Narrowed up to the end the fireplace filled,
Although not wide. I liked it. No one guessed
What need or accident made them so build.
The Lane
© Edward Thomas
Some day, I think, there will be people enough
In Froxfield to pick all the blackberries
Out of the hedges of Green Lane, the straight
Broad lane where now September hides herself
The Glory
© Edward Thomas
The glory of the beauty of the morning, -
The cuckoo crying over the untouched dew;
The blackbird that has found it, and the dove
That tempts me on to something sweeter than love;
The Sequel to a Reminiscence
© Amy Levy
Not in the street and not in the square,
The street and square where you went and came;
With shuttered casement your house stands bare,
Men hush their voice when they speak your name.
