Poems by First Line

• The yellow fingers of the sun - Will Hatchett
• THE YELLOW snow-fog curdled thick, - George Walter Thornbury
• Thebes, hearing still the Memnon's mystic tones - Nicholas Michell
• Thebes, whose proud towers, so fabling minstrels tell, - Nicholas Michell
• Thee, Bodley, would I sing; who can refuse - Stephen Duck
• Their breasts are white, their necks are long, - Frank L. Ludwig
• Their silence - David Cookson
• THEIRS was no dream, O monarch hill, - Felicia Hemans
• Then Bradon gently brings forth Avon from her source - Michael Drayton
• THEN commerce brought into the public walk - James Thomson
• Then I saw the Congo, creeping through the black - Vachel Lindsay
• THEN Madoc took His host aside, and in his private ear - Robert Southey
• Then saw we Afflighem, by ruin rent - Robert Southey
• THEN sing they how he first ordained the circled board, - Michael Drayton
• THENCE the laud Baltic passing, black with storm, - James Thomson
• THERE ’s a smile on the lake,—there ’s a voice from the deep; - Freidrich von Schiller
• There are 57,308,738 square - J.R. Solonche
• There are five men in the moonlight - Laurence Binyon
• There are men in the village of Erith - William Cosmo Monkhouse
• There are no ghosts, you say - Alfred Noyes

Poems about Places