| First Line of Poem |
Poem Title |
Author |
Lines |
Views |
| T is eight miles out and eight miles in, |
To the Hills! |
Laurence Hope (Adela Florence Cory Nicolson) |
40 |
206 |
| T is evening: the black snail has got on his track, |
Evening |
John Clare |
2 |
284 |
| T is late at night, and in the realm of sleep |
To-Morrow |
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
14 |
120 |
| T is like stirring living embers when, at eighty, one remembers |
Grandmother's Story Of Bunker-Hill Battle As She Saw It From The Belfry |
Oliver Wendell Holmes |
148 |
195 |
| T is little I could care for pearls |
Real Riches. |
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson |
8 |
242 |
| T is midnight: through my troubled dream |
Voyage Of The Good Ship Union |
Oliver Wendell Holmes |
96 |
156 |
| T is n't long till Christmas now. |
Forerunners |
Madison Julius Cawein |
36 |
252 |
| T is not alone that black and yawning void |
Compensation. |
Emma Lazarus |
18 |
184 |
| T is pleasant to bear recollections in mind |
The Old Shepherd |
John Clare |
64 |
222 |
| T is said that each succeeding year |
To My Sister. On Her Birthday. |
Mary Gardiner Horsford |
32 |
199 |
| T is said that in the Holy Land |
My Thanks |
John Greenleaf Whittier |
68 |
529 |
| T is so much joy! 'T is so much joy! |
Rouge Gagne. |
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson |
18 |
186 |
| T is spring! The boats bound to the sea; |
In The Springtime I |
Eugene Field |
20 |
214 |
| T is Spring, my love, 'tis Spring, |
'Tis Spring, My Love, 'Tis Spring |
John Clare |
24 |
351 |
| T is Sunday morning, dear mamma! |
Sunday. |
H. P. Nichols |
24 |
118 |
| T is sunrise, little maid, hast thou |
Unwarned. |
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson |
14 |
164 |
| T is sweet to fight our battles o'er, |
The Gray Chief |
Oliver Wendell Holmes |
21 |
170 |
| T is the noon of the spring-time, yet never a bird |
April |
John Greenleaf Whittier |
33 |
632 |
| T is when the lark goes soaring |
Kissing Time |
Eugene Field |
32 |
228 |
| T is whiter than an Indian pipe, |
The Spirit. |
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson |
12 |
182 |
| T was a long parting, but the time |
Resurrection. |
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson |
16 |
270 |
| T was a vision of childhood that came with its dawn, |
The Hudson - After A Lecture At Albany |
Oliver Wendell Holmes |
24 |
177 |
| T was early morn, the low night-wind |
The Pilgrims' Fast. |
Mary Gardiner Horsford |
52 |
214 |
| T was eve; and Mount Conto |
Pleurs. |
Mary Gardiner Horsford |
88 |
219 |
| T was Fiddledeedee who put to sea |
Fiddledeedee And The Bumblebee |
Madison Julius Cawein |
24 |
225 |
| T was Fultah Fisher's boarding-house, |
Ballad Of Fisher's Boarding-House |
Rudyard Kipling |
|
494 |
| T was just this time last year I died. |
Retrospect. |
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson |
24 |
240 |
| T WAS later when the summer went |
T Was Later When The Summer Went |
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson |
8 |
290 |
| T was night - the moon, upon her sapphire throne, |
Odes From Horace. - To Nea[=E]ra. Book The Fifth, Epode The Fifteenth. |
Anna Seward |
32 |
84 |
| T was night. The tranquil moonlight smile |
Toussaint L’Ouverture |
John Greenleaf Whittier |
247 |
327 |
| T was on the banks of Ivory, 'neath the hawthorn-scented shade, |
The Banks Of Ivory |
John Clare |
28 |
199 |
| T was on the famous trotting-ground, |
How The Old Horse Won The Bet |
Oliver Wendell Holmes |
205 |
186 |
| T was Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness, |
The Black Knight (Translation) |
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
60 |
139 |
| T was somewhere in the April time, |
My True Love Is A Sailor |
John Clare |
32 |
357 |
| T was such a little, little boat |
Unreturning. |
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson |
8 |
178 |
| T was three an' thirty year ago, |
The Rivals |
Paul Laurence Dunbar |
104 |
186 |
| T will not be long before they hear |
Away Down Home |
John Charles McNeill |
40 |
126 |
| T would be a wildish destiny, |
Stepping Westward |
William Wordsworth |
|
326 |
| T' watter is blue i' t' offin', |
His Last Sail |
Frederic William Moorman |
70 |
113 |
| T'other night, after hearing Lord Dudley's oration |
Moral Positions. A Dream. |
Thomas Moore |
28 |
120 |
| T'was breakfast time, and outside in the street |
The Prize Fight |
Fay Inchfawn |
38 |
194 |
| Tabitha dressed for her wedding: |
The Wedding Morning |
Thomas Hardy |
16 |
164 |
| Taddeo Gaddi built me. I am old, |
The Old Bridge At Florence |
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
14 |
193 |
| Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy was a thief; |
Nursery Rhyme. LXXIV. Tales. |
Unknown |
8 |
6 |
| Take 'this of Juliet and her Romeo,' |
Juliet And Her Romeo |
Richard Le Gallienne |
14 |
199 |
| Take a boy with bare feet as a starter |
Recipe For A Multi-Millionaire: |
Unknown |
4 |
76 |
| Take a feller 'at's sick and laid up on the shelf, |
Them Flowers. |
James Whitcomb Riley |
24 |
67 |
| Take a pair of sparkling eyes, |
A Recipe. |
William Schwenck Gilbert |
28 |
223 |
| Take a personal hatred of authors, |
Recipe For An Editor: |
Unknown |
4 |
77 |
| Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all; |
The Sonnets XL - Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all |
William Shakespeare |
14 |
593 |
|
