Poems begining by T
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Testimony
© Seamus Justin Heaney
'We were killing pigs when the
Yanks arrived.
A Tuesday morning, sunlight
and gutter-blood
To Them That Mourn
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Lift up your heads: in life, in death,
God knoweth his head was high.
Quit we the coward's broken breath
Who watched a strong man die.
The Otter
© Seamus Justin Heaney
When you plunged
The light of Tuscany wavered
And swung through the pool
From top to bottom.
To O.E.A.
© Claude McKay
Your voice is the color of a robin's breast,
And there's a sweet sob in it like rain-still rain in the night.
The Russet-Backed Thrush
© Herbert Bashford
He dwells where pine and hemlock grow,
A merry minstrel seldom seen;
The voice of Joy is his I know
Shy poet of the Evergreen!
Twice Shy
© Seamus Justin Heaney
Her scarf a la Bardot,
In suede flats for the walk,
She came with me one evening
For air and friendly talk.
We crossed the quiet river,
Took the embankment walk.
The Perch
© Seamus Justin Heaney
That is passable through, but theyre bluntly holding the
pass,
Under the water-roof, over the bottom, adoze
The Tollund Man
© Seamus Justin Heaney
Some day I will go to Aarhus
To see his peat-brown head,
The mild pods of his eye-lids,
His pointed skin cap.
The Grauballe Man
© Seamus Justin Heaney
As if he had been poured
in tar, he lies
on a pillow of turf
and seems to weep
The Early Purges
© Seamus Justin Heaney
I was six when I first saw kittens drown.
Dan Taggart pitched them, 'the scraggy wee shits',
Into a bucket; a frail metal sound,
The Heremite Toad
© Madison Julius Cawein
A human skull in a church-yard lay;
For the church was a wreck, and the tombstones old
On the graves of their dead were rotting away
To the like of their long-watched mould.
This Beautiful Black Marriage
© Diane Wakoski
Photograph negative
her black arm: a diving porpoise,
sprawled across the ice-banked pillow.
Head: a sheet of falling water.
Her legs: icicle branches breaking into light.
The Reformers
© Rudyard Kipling
Not in the camp his victory lies
Or triumph in the market-place,
Who is his Nation's sacrifice
To turn the judgement from his race.
The Death Of Nelson
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
'TWAS midst the battle's echoing din
And the cannon's thundering roar,
The Quidditie
© George Herbert
My God, a verse is not a crown;
No point of honor, or gay suit;
No hawk, or banquet, or renown,
Nor a good sword, nor yet a lute:
The Workman's Dream
© Edgar Albert Guest
To-day it's dirt and dust and steam,
To-morrow it will be the same,
The Three Singers To Young Blood
© George Meredith
Carols nature, counsel men.
Different notes as rook from wren
Hear we when our steps begin,
And the choice is cast within,
Where a robber raven's tale
Urges passion's nightingale.
Twenty Four Hour Embrace
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Awakening
in the twenty four hour embrace of a few moments sleep,
where half a lifetime eludes dreams;
and feeling you were cheated
by too much gin and lack of sleep
in these unconsummated fumblings.
To The Rock That Will Be A Cornerstone Of The House
© Robinson Jeffers
Old garden of grayish and ochre lichen,
How long a rime since the brown people who have vanished from
