Poems begining by T

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Talking XX

© Khalil Gibran

And then a scholar said, "Speak of Talking."

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Titian

© Vachel Lindsay

Would that such hills and cities round us sang,

Such vistas of the actual earth and man

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The Complaints Of The Poor

© Robert Southey

And wherefore do the Poor complain?
  The rich man asked of me,--
  Come walk abroad with me, I said
  And I will answer thee.

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The Mower

© Philip Larkin

The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found
A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,
Killed.  It had been in the long grass.

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The Affliction Of Richard

© Robert Seymour Bridges

Love not too much. But how,

When thou hast made me such,

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The Burial: In Memory of W.L.E.

© Leon Gellert

What task is this that so unnerves me now?

When pity should be dead, and has been dead.

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The First Waits

© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

SO, Christmas is here again!--
While the house sleeps, quiet as death,
'Neath the midnight moon comes the Waits' shrill tune,
And we listen and hold our breath.

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To My Class: On Certain Fruits And Flowers Sent Me In Sickness

© Sidney Lanier

If spicy-fringed pinks that blush and pale

With passions of perfume, - if violets blue

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The Waning Moon

© William Cullen Bryant

I've watched too late; the morn is near;
  One look at God's broad silent sky!
Oh, hopes and wishes vainly dear,
  How in your very strength ye die!

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The Abbey Mason

© Thomas Hardy


(The church which, at an after date,
Acquired cathedral rank and state.)

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The Frightened Man

© Louise Bogan

In fear of the rich mouth
I kissed the thin,--
Even that was a trap
To snare me in.

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The Dream

© Louise Bogan

O God, in the dream the terrible horse began
To paw at the air, and make for me with his blows,
Fear kept for thirty-five years poured through his mane,
And retribution equally old, or nearly, breathed through his nose.

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"They call me a cold one"

© Adam Mickiewicz

They call me a cold one,
And I hide away from them my anxious feelings,
But behind my indifferent appearance,
As if in a haze,

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The Crossed Apple

© Louise Bogan

I've come to give you fruit from out my orchard,
Of wide report.
I have trees there that bear me many apples.
Of every sort:

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The Alchemist

© Louise Bogan

I burned my life, that I may find
A passion wholly of the mind,
Thought divorced from eye and bone
Ecstasy come to breath alone.
I broke my life, to seek relief
From the flawed light of love and grief.

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The Masque Of Pandora

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

THE VOICE.
Not finished till I breathe the breath of life
Into her nostrils, and she moves and speaks.

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Tears In Sleep

© Louise Bogan

All night the cocks crew, under a moon like day,
And I, in the cage of sleep, on a stranger's breast,
Shed tears, like a task not to be put away---
In the false light, false grief in my happy bed,

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The Pietous Complainte Of The Soule.

© Thomas Hoccleve

I meanë thus: if ony part of grace  Reserued be, in tresoure or ellës where,That thu, for me purveyë and purchaseWolde vouchësaff, gret wondere but there wereI-nowgh for me: nought ellës I require;  Do somwhat, than, aftir thi propirte,And schewe whi thu art cleped charite. 
But now, allas, ful weel I may recorde,  Whil I had myght and space of tyme I-nowgh,Of this mattere, towchid I no word,Ne, to seint, I tho my self[ë] drowgh,
That in myne nede for me may spekë now,  As for no service that I have to him do:Wot I not, whom to make my monë to. 

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To The Countess Of Bedford II

© John Donne

TO have written then, when you writ, seem'd to me

Worst of spiritual vices, simony ;

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The Condition Of King Seuen's Flocks

© Confucius

Who dares to say your sheep are few?
  The flocks are all three hundred strong.
  Who dares despise your cattle too?
  There ninety, black-lipped, press along.
  Though horned the sheep, yet peaceful each appears;
  The cattle come with moist and flapping ears.