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- “Then we will have tonight!” we said. by Dorothy Parker
- “There is no God,” the wicked saith, by Arthur Hugh Clough
- “There’s a footstep coming; look out and see.” by Christina Rossetti
- “There’s something in your face, Michael, I’ve seen it all the day; by Robert Service
- “There, but for the grace of God, goes…“ by Edwin Arlington Robinson
- “There, on the left!” said the colonel: the battle by George Parsons Lathrop
- “They called it Annandale—and I was there by Edwin Arlington Robinson
- “They have no more wine!” she said. by George MacDonald
- “They have not chosen me,” he said, by Emily Dickinson
- “Thin Rain, whom are you haunting, by Edna St. Vincent Millay
- “This bunch of violets,” he said, by Robert Service
- “Thou art a fool,” said my head to my heart, by Paul Laurence Dunbar
- “Thou drinkest deep.” by Christina Rossetti
- “Thou Ship of Earth, with Death, and Birth, and Life, and Sex aboard, by Sidney Lanier
- “Thou wanderest in the land of dreams, by George MacDonald
- “Thou whom I love, for whom I died, by Christina Rossetti
- “To heal his heart of long-time pain by Sidney Lanier
- “Tomorrow”—whose location by Emily Dickinson
- “Trash, trash!” the king my uncle said, by Delmore Schwartz
- “Traveller, what lies over the hill? by George MacDonald
- “Tuberculosis should not be,” by Robert Service
- “Turn out, boys!”—”What’s up with our super. to-night? by Adam Lindsay Gordon
- “Unto Me?” I do not know you— by Emily Dickinson
- “Wake, arm Divine! awake, by John Keble
- “Was not” was all the Statement. by Emily Dickinson
- “We are false and evanescent, and aware of our deceit, by Edwin Arlington Robinson
- “We’ve had a brush,” the Captain said, by Hanford Lennox Gordon
- “Well, comrades, let us fight one battle more; by Hanford Lennox Gordon
- “What bluid’s that on thy coat lap? by Andrew Lang
- “What do you gather?” the maiden said, by Arthur Weir
- “What do you think by Robert Graves
- “What gars ye sing,” said the herd-laddie, by George MacDonald
- “What hear I at the gateway ringing? by Hanford Lennox Gordon
- “What maks ye sae canty, granny dear? by George MacDonald
- “What means this throng?” a blind man said, by Nannie R. Glass
- “What of the garden I gave?” by E. (Edith) Nesbit
- “What traveller soever wander here by Thomas Runciman
- “What will you do when you come to die, by Edgar Lee Masters
- “When he was here alive, Eileen, by Edwin Arlington Robinson
- “Whence do ye come, with the dew on your hair? by Andrew Lang
- “Where are you going to-night, to-night,— by Edwin Arlington Robinson
- “Where are you going, Young Fellow My Lad, by Robert Service
- “Where is thy crown, O tree of Love? by George MacDonald
- “Where is your little boy to-day?” by Robert Service
- “Where shall we go for our garlands glad by Adam Lindsay Gordon
- “Where’s the need of singing now?”— by Edwin Arlington Robinson
- “Whether all towns and all who live in them— by Edwin Arlington Robinson
- “Which of you, knight or squire, will dare by George MacDonald
- “While I sit at the door by Christina Rossetti
- “Who comes?” The sentry’s warning cry by Bret Harte
- “Who curseth Sorrow knows her not at all. by Isabella Valancy Crawford
- “Who is Blackmouth?” Well, that’s hard to say. by George Parsons Lathrop
- “Who is it that this dark night by Sir Philip Sidney
- “WHO is this little one lying,” by George MacDonald
- “Whoa! Victorine. by Amy Lowell
- “Whom God hath joined”—ah, this sententious phrase by Hattie Howard
- “Why am I not myself these many days, by Edwin Arlington Robinson
- “Why did you melt your waxen man by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
- “Why do I love” You, Sir? by Emily Dickinson
- “Why does your brand sae drop wi’ blude, by Andrew Lang
- “Why this fever—why this sighing?— by Hanford Lennox Gordon
- “Why, Max! Stop, Max!” And out they came pell-mell, by Amy Lowell
- “Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail. by Lewis Carroll
- “Will you walk into my parlor?” by Mary Howitt
- “Willis, I didn’t want you here to-day: by Robert Frost
- “With tears thy grief thou dost bemoan, by Emma Lazarus
- “Within the arbour, Mynheer Breuck, I’ll bring by Amy Lowell
- “Woman’s place is in my home.”—Appius Claudius. by Alice Duer Miller
- “Ye have robbed,” said he, “ye have slaughtered and made an end, by Henry Newbolt
- “Yes—deep within and deeper yet by John Keble
- “Yes,” said the sister with the little pinched face, by Vachel Lindsay
- “You are old, Father William,” the young man said, by Lewis Carroll
- “You ought to have seen what I saw on my way by Robert Frost
- “You think I am dead,” by Edith M. Thomas
- “You thought we knew,” she said, “but we were wrong. by Edwin Arlington Robinson
- “You’re bloody right—I was a Red,” by Robert Service
- “Young fellow, listen to a friend: by Robert Service
- … But I was dead, an hour or more. by Robert Graves
- … So, praise the gods, Catullus is away! by Dorothy Parker
- À chaque Robinson by James A. Emanuel
- À des heures et sans que tel souffle l’émeuve by Stéphane Mallarmé
- À la fenêtre recelant by Stéphane Mallarmé
- À la nue accablante tu by Stéphane Mallarmé
- À la pêche aux mots by James A. Emanuel
- Ça monte, la pression : by James A. Emanuel
- « I sing the LORD’S songs » by James A. Emanuel
- « Love Supreme » : ça file by James A. Emanuel
- (”My name is also named ‘Played Out.’”) by Andrew Lang
- (A Poem Game.) by Vachel Lindsay
- (BROADWAY, 1906) by Edwin Arlington Robinson
- (Comus.) Your hay it is mow’d, and your corn is reap’d; by John Dryden
- (From Oedipus at Colonus) by William Butler Yeats
- (J. H., 1905-1930) by Dorothy Parker
- (O Earth-and-Autumn of the Setting Sun, by William Ellery Leonard
- (On the Anniversary of Lincoln’s Birth) by James Weldon Johnson
- (one!) by E. E. Cummings
- (Reply of the Pythian Oracle to Philip of Macedon.) by George Gordon Lord Byron
- (Retold in Rhyme) by Robert Service
- (the phonograph’s voice like a keen spider skipping by E. E. Cummings
- (The Priests within the Temple) by Rupert Brooke
