Poems begining by T
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The Orchard And The Heath
© George Meredith
I chanced upon an early walk to spy
A troop of children through an orchard gate:
The boughs hung low, the grass was high;
They had but to lift hands or wait
For fruits to fill them; fruits were all their sky.
The Fallen Oak
© Giovanni Pascoli
Where its shade was, the oak itself now sprawls,
lifeless, no longer vying with the wind.
The people say: I see nowit was tall!
Translation of a Speech of Aquileio in the Adriano of Metastasio
© Samuel Johnson
Grown old in courts, thou art not surely one
Who keeps the rigid rules of ancient honour;
To Echo
© John Kenyon
Why, jeering Echo! thus renew my pain,
And give me mine own sorrows back again?
The Loiterer
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
When Youth, led on by love and folly, strays,
Kissing sweet eyes beyond the allotted hour
The Season
© Alfred Austin
So sings the river through the summer days,
And I, submissive, follow what I praise.
What if my boyish blood would rather stay
Where lawns invite, where bonnibels delay,
Though but a youth and not averse from these,
To conflict called, I abdicate my ease,
The Watcher
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
THE long road and the low shore, a sail against the sky,
The ache in my heart's core, and hope so hard to die--
Ah me, but the day's long--and all the sails go by!
The Hope Of The Streets
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
The still sweet meadows shimmered: and I stood
And cursed them, bloom of hedge and bird of tree,
And bright and high beyond the hunch-backed wood
The thunder and the splendour of the sea.
The Wisdom Of Eld
© George Meredith
We spend our lives in learning pilotage,
And grow good steersmen when the vessel's crank!
The Wall Street Pit
© Edwin Markham
Is this a whirl of madmen ravening,
And blowing bubbles in their merriment?
Is Babel come again with shrieking crew
To eat the dust and drink the roaring wind?
And all for what? A handful of bright sand
To buy a shroud with and a length of earth?
The Stylite
© Rainer Maria Rilke
He nearly drowned in hermit-seeking seas
Of visitors those voids he had allowed
To suck his soul damned sycophantic fleas!
Wrenching himself from the besieging crowd,
He gripped with clammy hands and bulbous knees
The Poet's Hope.
© Robert Crawford
The wild hope of the poet finds a home
In the immaterial, as he clothes himself
In visionary raiment far off, where
The echoes of eternity are heard
And the immortal entities appear.
The Adventurer
© Edith Nesbit
THE land of gold was far away,
The sea a challenge roared between;
I left my throne, my crown, my queen,
And sailed out of the quiet bay.
To The Supreme Being From The Italian Of Michael Angelo
© William Wordsworth
THE prayers I make will then be sweet indeed
If Thou the spirit give by which I pray:
My unassisted heart is barren clay,
That of its native self can nothing feed:
The Day undressed—Herself
© Emily Dickinson
The Day undressed-Herself-
Her Garter-was of Gold-
Her Petticoat-of Purple plain-
Her Dimities-as old
To A Pine-Tree
© James Russell Lowell
Far up on Katahdin thou towerest,
Purple-blue with the distance and vast;
Like a cloud o'er the lowlands thou lowerest,
That hangs poised on a lull in the blast,
To its fall leaning awful.
