Poems begining by T
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The Lust of the Eyes
© Siddall Elizabeth
I care not for my Lady's soul Though I worship before her smile;I care not where be my Lady's goal When her beauty shall lose its wile.
The Glories of our Blood and State
© James Shirley
The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things;There is no armour against fate; Death lays his icy hand on kings
The New Mothers
© Shields Carol
Nearly seven,walls loosen, it's already dark,dinner trays rattle by,nurses slack off, catcha smoke, let go.Roses bloom in every room.
The Methodist Jesus
© Shields Carol
Little Lord Jesus was a sissy butWe liked him anywayHe was like George WashingtonAnd never told lies -- onlyMuch more important we knew that.
Troilus and Cressida (excerpts): The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre
© William Shakespeare
The Heavens themselves, the planets, and this centreObserve degree, priority, and place,Insisture, course, proportion, season, form,Office, and custom, in all line of order
The Merchant of Venice (excerpts): How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank
© William Shakespeare
Lorenzo: How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank; Here will we sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears
To Julia under Lock and Key
© Seaman Owen
[A form of betrothal gift in America is an anklet securedby a padlock, of which the other party keeps the key.]
To Julia in Shooting Togs
© Seaman Owen
Whenas to shoot my Julia goes,Then, then, (methinks) how bravely showsThat rare arrangement of her clothes!
Thomas of the Light Heart
© Seaman Owen
Facing the guns, he jokes as well As any Judge upon the Bench;Between the crash of shell and shell His laughter rings along the trench;He seems immensely tickled by aProjectile which he calls a "Black Maria
The Links of Love
© Seaman Owen
My heart is like a driver-club, That heaves the pellet hard and straight,That carries every let and rub, The whole performance really great;My heart is like a bulger-head, That whiffles on the wily tee,Because my love has kindly said She'll halve the round of life with me
The Girt Woak Tree
© William Barnes
The girt woak tree that's in the dell !
There's noo tree I do love so well;
The Lady of the Lake: Canto 3
© Sir Walter Scott
He is gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest,Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest
The Lady of the Lake: Canto 1
© Sir Walter Scott
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking:Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking
To Certain Friends
© Scott Francis Reginald
I see my friends now standing about me, bemused,Eyeing me dubiously as I pursue my course,Clutching their little less that is world's away.
The Canadian Authors Meet
© Scott Francis Reginald
Expansive puppets percolate self-unctionBeneath a portrait of the Prince of Wales.Miss Crotchet's muse has somehow failed to function,Yet she's a poetess. Beaming, she sails
The Bird
© Scott Francis Reginald
Fluffed and still as snow, the whitebird lay in a crumple of deathfar, far below the flock which, sailing, heardbut did not feel, the shot.
