Poems begining by T
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The Destroyer Of A Soul
© Lionel Pigot Johnson
Why come you now? You, whom I cannot cease
With pure and perfect hate to hate? Go, ring
The death-bell with a deep, triumphant toll!
Say you, my friend sits by me still? Ah, peace!
Call you this thing my friend? this nameless thing?
This living body, hiding its dead soul?
The Henchman
© John Greenleaf Whittier
My lady walks her morning round,
My lady's page her fleet greyhound,
My lady's hair the fond winds stir,
And all the birds make songs for her.
The Worst Treason
© Victor Marie Hugo
The deepest infamy man can attain,
Is to strangle Rome, or France enchain;
Whate'er the place, the land, the city be,
'T is to rob man of soul and liberty;
The Dark Companion
© James Brunton Stephens
There is an orb that mocked the lore of sages
Long time with mystery of strange unrest;
The steadfast law that rounds the starry ages
Gave doubtful token of supreme behest.
To A Thunder-Cloud
© George MacDonald
Oh, melancholy fragment of the night
Drawing thy lazy web against the sun,
The Death Of Lovers
© Charles Baudelaire
We will have beds filled with light scent, and
couches deep as a tomb,
and strange flowers in the room,
blooming for us under skies so pleasant.
The Legacy
© Henry King
My dearest Love! when thou and I must part,
And th' icy hand of death shall seize that heart
Which is all thine; within some spacious will
Ile leave no blanks for Legacies to fill:
The Strangers
© Walter de la Mare
Dim-berried is the mistletoe
With globes of sheenless grey,
The holly mid ten thousand thorns
Smoulders its fires away;
And in the manger Jesus sleeps
This Christmas Day.
The Peace Autumn
© John Greenleaf Whittier
THANK God for rest, where none molest,
And none can make afraid;
For Peace that sits as Plenty's guest
Beneath the homestead shade!
The Image Of Death
© Lord Alfred Douglas
I carved an image coloured like the night,
Winged with huge wings, stern-browed and menacing,
The Last Song of Sappho
© Giacomo Leopardi
Thou tranquil night, and thou, O gentle ray
Of the declining moon; and thou, that o'er
The Wind And The Moon
© George MacDonald
Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out!
You stare
In the air
As if crying Beware,
Always looking what I am about:
I hate to be watched; I will blow you out!"
The Maid of Toro
© Sir Walter Scott
O, low shone the sun on the fair lake of Toro,
And weak were the whispers that waved the dark wood,
The Garden
© James Shirley
This Garden does not take my eyes,
Though here you show how art of men
Can purchase Nature at a price
Would stock old Paradise again.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. Interlude IV.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
And then the blue-eyed Norseman told
A Saga of the days of old.
To The Apennines
© William Cullen Bryant
Your peaks are beautiful, ye Apennines!
In the soft light of these serenest skies;
From the broad highland region, black with pines,
Fair as the hills of Paradise they rise,
Bathed in the tint Peruvian slaves behold
In rosy flushes on the virgin gold.
The Value Of A Telephone
© Edgar Albert Guest
LAST night we had a hurry call to go to daughter May,
Her husband said that Ma and me were wanted right away,
An' so, though it was after 12, an' bitter cold outside,
We hustled out of bed an' dressed an' took a trolley ride;
An' Jimthat is her husbandmet us with a gracious bow
An' said to me as we stepped in: "Well, you're a grandpa now."
The Aurora On The Clyde
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
AH me, how heavily the night comes down,
Heavily, heavily:
Fade the curved shores, the blue hills' serried throng,
The darkening waves we oared in light and song:
