Temptation
Thanksgiving Poem, A
Then and Now
Theology
Thou Art My Lute
Till The Wind Gets Right
Time To Tinker 'Roun'!
To a Captious Critic
To A Dead Friend
To A Lady Playing The Harp
To A Violet Found on All Saint's
To An Ingrate
To Dan
To Dr. James Newton Matthews
To E. H. K.
To Her
To J. Q.
To Louise
To Miss Mary Britton
To Pfrimmer
To The Eastern Shore
To the Memory of Mary Young
To the Miami
To The Road
To the South
Trouble In De Kitchen
Tryst, The
Turning Of The Babies In The Bed, The
Twell De Night Is Pas'
Twilight
Two Little Boots
Two Songs
Then.
He loved her, and through many years,
Had paid his fair devoted court,
Until she wearied, and with sneers
Turned all his ardent love to sport.
That night within his chamber lone,
He long sat writing by his bed
A note in which his heart made moan
For love; the morning found him dead.
Now.
Like him, a man of later day
Was jilted by the maid he sought,
And from her presence turned away,
Consumed by burning, bitter thought.
He sought his room to write--a curse
Like him before and die, I ween.
Ah no, he put his woes in verse,
And sold them to a magazine.
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Last updated: Wed, Feb-29-2012