Poems begining by T
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Tam Lin
© Andrew Lang
O I forbid you, maidens a',
That wear gowd on your hair,
To come or gae by Carterhaugh,
For young Tam Lin is there.
The Hoosier Folk-Child
© James Whitcomb Riley
The Hoosier Folk-Child--all unsung--
Unlettered all of mind and tongue;
The Music Of The Chase
© William Henry Ogilvie
I don't know any tune from any other,
I couldn't sing a song if I were paid,
The Flight
© Sara Teasdale
Look back with longing eyes and know that I will follow,
Lift me up in your love as a light wind lifts a swallow,
Let our flight be far in sun or windy rain-
But what if I heard my first love calling me again?
The Right To Joy
© Edgar Albert Guest
I DO not ask for roses all the time,
For blue skies bending o'er me every day,
To A Daisy
© Alice Meynell
Slight as thou art, thou art enough to hide,
Like all created things, secrets from me,
And stand a barrier to eternity.
And I, how can I praise thee well and wide?
The Nevers of Poetry
© Charles Harpur
Never heed whether a line strictly goes
By learned rule, if, brook-like, it warble as it flows,
Or if, in concord with the thought, it fills
Fast forward, like a torrent fast flooding from the hills.
The Lotos
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
DROOPING in the sunlit streams,
We are wrapped all day in dreams;
Morn and noon and evening light
Robed for us in garbs of night.
The Inevitable
© Sarah Knowles Bolton
I LIKE the man who faces what he must
With step triumphant and a heart of cheer;
The Girl At The Harp.
© Arthur Henry Adams
LIKE Clotho, at her harp she sits and weaves
With mystic fingers from the swaying strings
A melody that ever louder sings
And my charmed heart in vibrant rapture leaves
To Quintus Dellius
© Eugene Field
Be tranquil, Dellius, I pray;
For though you pine your life away
With dull complaining breath,
Or speed with song and wine each day,
Still, still your doom is death.
Trivia ; or, the Art of Walking the Streets of London : Book III
© John Gay
Of Walking the Streets by Night.
O Trivia, goddess, leave these low abodes,
To His Grace The Duke Of Buckingham And Normanby, At The Camp Before Philipsburgh.
© Mary Barber
SHEFFIELD, since martial Ardor fires your Breast,
Make Albion only in that Ardor blest;
Nor yet by War alone exalt thy Name;
Give Science her hereditary Claim:
Return, brave Youth! your longing Country grace;
Think what you owe Britannia, and your Race.
The Forsaken
© Thomas Hood
The dead are in their silent graves,
And the dew is cold above,
And the living weep and sigh,
Over dust that once was love.
The Crocus Bed
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
YELLOW as the noonday sun,
Purple as a day that's done,
White as mist that lingers pale
On the edge of morning's veil,
Delicate as love's first kiss--
Crocuses are just like this.
The Temple
© Virna Sheard
Enter the temple beautiful! The house not made with hands!
Rain-washed and green, wind-swept and clean,
Beneath the blue it stands,
And no cathedral anywhere
Seemeth so holy or so fair.
The Solitarys Wine
© Charles Baudelaire
A flirtatious womans singular gaze
as she slithers towards you, like the white rays
the vibrant moon throws on the trembling sea
where she wishes to bathe her casual beauty,
To A Captious Critic
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Dear critic, who my lightness so deplores,
Would I might study to be prince of bores,
Right wisely would I rule that dull estate--
But, sir, I may not, till you abdicate.
