Poems begining by T
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The True Encounter
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
"Wolf!" cried my cunning heart
At every sheep it spied,
And roused the countryside.
The Death Of Autumn
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
When reeds are dead and a straw to thatch the marshes,
And feathered pampas-grass rides into the wind
Like aged warriors westward, tragic, thinned
Of half their tribe, and over the flattened rushes,
The Suicide
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
Thus I to Life, and ceased, and slightly smiled,
Looking at nothing; and my thin dreams filed
Before me one by one till once again
I set new words unto an old refrain:
The Ballad Of The Harp-Weaver
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
"Son," said my mother,
When I was knee-high,
"you've need of clothes to cover you,
and not a rag have I.
The Spring And The Fall
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
In the spring of the year, in the spring of the year,
I walked the road beside my dear.
The trees were black where the bark was wet.
I see them yet, in the spring of the year.
He broke me a bough of the blossoming peach
That was out of the way and hard to reach.
Travel
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
The railroad track is miles away,
And the day is loud with voices speaking,
Yet there isn't a train goes by all day
But I hear its whistle shrieking.
The Night is Darkening Around Me
© Emily Jane Brontë
The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow ;
But a tyrant spell has bound me,
And I cannot, cannot go.
The Invitation
© Thomas Godfrey
DAMON.Haste! Sylvia! haste, my charming Maid!
Let's leave these fashionable toys;
Let's seek the shelter of some shade,
And revel in ne'er fading joys.
The First Death. (extracts)
© Dimitris Lyacos
Shoestring Press, Nottingham, 2000.VIIIFinal concept harbour which has
broken there where it crumpled our faces
there where ikons soaking and dissolving
scoured the rusty beds
They've Come
© Alfonsina Storni
My sister---the oldest---is grown up,
is blondish. An elemental dream
goes through her eyes: I told the youngest
"Life is sweet. Everything bad comes to an end."
There Are Those Who Love To Get Dirty
© Gary Snyder
There are those who love to get dirty
and fix things.
They drink coffee at dawn,
beer after work,
The Blues Are All The Same
© Lisa Zaran
~for Jackson C. Frank
It seems almost too far fetched really,
too difficult to believe.
This unassuming moon shining like a copper plate.
Tenderness
© Lisa Zaran
I am afraid
that when I go mad,
my father will bow his downy head
into his silver wings and weep.
Talking To My Father Whose Ashes Sit In A Closet And Listen
© Lisa Zaran
Death is not the final word.
Without ears, my father still listens,
still shrugs his shoulders
whenever I ask a question he doesn't want to answer.
Two Descriptions Of Action
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Do what is good, and humanity's godlike plant thou wilt nourish;
Plan what is fair, and thou'lt strew seeds of the godlike around.
To The Spring
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Welcome, gentle Stripling,
Nature's darling thou!
With thy basket full of blossoms,
A happy welcome now!
To The Muse
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
What I had been without thee, I know not--yet, to my sorrow
See I what, without thee, hundreds and thousands now are.
To Proselytizers
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
"Give me only a fragment of earth beyond the earth's limits,"--
So the godlike man said,--"and I will move it with ease."
Only give me permission to leave myself for one moment,
And without any delay I will engage to be yours.
To Mystics
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
That is the only true secret, which in the presence of all men
Lies, and surrounds thee for ay, but which is witnessed by none.
To My Friends
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Yes, my friends!--that happier times have been
Than the present, none can contravene;
That a race once lived of nobler worth;
And if ancient chronicles were dumb,
