Poems begining by T

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The Wild Rose

© George Meredith

High climbs June's wild rose,

Her bush all blooms in a swarm;

Two Campers In Cloud Country

© Sylvia Plath

In this country there is neither measure nor balance
To redress the dominance of rocks and woods,
The passage, say, of these man-shaming clouds.

The Fairy Rade

© Madison Julius Cawein

Ai me! why stood I on the bent
When Summer wept o'er dying June!
I saw the Fairy Folk ride faint
Aneath the moon.

The Humming Bird

© Edwin Markham

A sudden whirr of eager sound

And now a something throbs around

The Princess Elizabeth, when a prisoner at Woodstock, 1554

© William Shenstone

Will you hear how once repining
Great Eliza captive lay,
Each ambitious thought resigning,
Foe to riches, pomp, and sway?

The Night Quatrains

© Charles Cotton

THE Sun is set, and gone to sleep

With the fair princess of the deep,

To My Good Master

© James Whitcomb Riley

In fancy, always, at thy desk, thrown wide,

Thy most betreasured books ranged neighborly--

The Drunken Father

© Robert Bloomfield

Poor Ellen married Andrew Hall,
Who dwells beside the moor,
Where yonder rose-tree shades the wall,
And woodbines grace the door.

SHE walks--the lady of my delight--
A shepherdess of sheep.
Her flocks are thoughts. She keeps them white;
She guards them from the steep.
She feeds them on the fragrant height,
And folds them in for sleep.

The Rose

© George Herbert

Presse me not to take more pleasure
In this world of sugred lies,
And to use a larger measure
Than my strict, yet welcome size.

To Ellen Terry

© Alfred Austin

Nay, bring forth none but daughters: daughters young,

The doubles of yourself; with face as fair,

The Growth Of Love XI

© Archibald Lampman

Belovèd, those who moan of love's brief day

Shall find but little grace with me, I guess,

The Lost Key

© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

I Closed a chamber in my heart,
And locked the door for aye;
Then, lest my weakness traitor prove,
I threw the key away.

The Butterfly's Ball And The Grasshopper's Feast

Come take up your Hats, and away let us haste
To the Butterfly's Ball, and the Grasshopper's Feast.
The Trumpeter, Gad-fly, has summon'd the Crew,
And the Revels are now only waiting for you.

The Doom Of The Esquire Bedell

Adown the torturing mile of street

I mark him come and go,

The Family Party

I SING the family party that once we used to know,

The old time family parties we gave so long ago,

The Tent Of Noon

Behold, now, where the pageant of the high June
Halts in the glowing noon!
The trailing shadows rest on plain and hill;
The bannered hosts are still,
While over forest crown and mountain head
The azure tent is spread.