Poems begining by P
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Prayer of a Soldier's Mother
© Anonymous
O, Mother of Perpetual Help,
To thee I send my plea,
Look down upon my soldier son,
Take care of him for me.
Passing the Temple
© Wang Wei
Tonight he walks with his light stick,
Stops by the Tiger Streams source,
Pleasing Dad
© Edgar Albert Guest
When I was but a little lad, not more than two or three,
I noticed in a general way my dad was proud of me.
He liked the little ways I had, the simple things I said;
Sometimes he gave me words of praise, sometimes he stroked my head;
And when I'd done a thing worth while, the thought that made me glad
Was always that I'd done my best, and that would please my dad.
Palinodia
© Charles Kingsley
Ye mountains, on whose torrent-furrowed slopes,
And bare and silent brows uplift to heaven,
I envied oft the soul which fills your wastes
Of pure and stern sublime, and still expanse
Unbroken by the petty incidents
Of noisy life: Oh hear me once again!
Peace
© Edgar Albert Guest
A man must earn his hour of peace,
Must pay for it with hours of strife and care,
Must win by toil the evening's sweet release,
The rest that may be portioned for his share;
The idler never knows it, never can.
Peace is the glory ever of a man.
Paradiso (English)
© Dante Alighieri
The glory of Him who moveth everything
Doth penetrate the universe, and shine
In one part more and in another less.
Panegyric To Sir Lewis Pemberton
© Robert Herrick
Till I shall come again, let this suffice,
I send my salt, my sacrifice
Petite Ste. Rosalie
© Susie Frances Harrison
FATHER Couture loves a fricassee,
Served with a sip of home-made wine,
He is the Curé, so jolly and free,
Poor Johnnie Pope
© Anonymous
Poor Johnnie Pope
Has lost his coat,
But let him never mind it;
When he comes down
To Richmond town,
There he'll be sure to find it.
Pen-Y-GWRYDD: To Tom Hughes, Esq.,
© Charles Kingsley
There is no inn in Snowdon which is not awful dear,
Excepting Pen-y-gwrydd (you can't pronounce it, dear),
Parting
© Boris Pasternak
A man is standing in the hall
His house not recognizing.
Her sudden leaving was a flight,
Herself, maybe, surprising.
Pre-Ordination
© Madison Julius Cawein
She bewitched me in my childhood,
And the witch's charm is hidden--
Far beyond the wicked wildwood
I shall find it, I am bidden.
Psyche
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The butterfly the ancient Grecians made
The soul's fair emblem, and its only name--
But of the soul, escaped the slavish trade
Of mortal life! -- For in this earthly frame
Pioneers
© William Henry Drummond
If dey 're walkin' on de roadside, an' dey 're bote in love togeder,
An' de star of spring is shinin' wit' de young moon in between,
It was purty easy guessin' dey 're not talkin' of de wedder,
W'en de boy is comin' twenty, an' de girl is jus' eighteen.
Phantom Or Fact? A Dialogue In Verse
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Friend.
This riddling Tale, to what does it belong?
Is't History? Vision? or an idle Song?
Or rather say at once, within what space
Of Time this wild disastrous change took place?
Primroses
© Nérée Beauchemin
COMME au printemps de l'autre année,
Au mois des fleurs, après les froids,
Par quelque belle matinée
Nous irons encor sous les bois.
Parade-Song of the Camp-Animals
© Rudyard Kipling
We lent to Alexander the strength of Hercules,
The wisdom of our foreheads, the cunning of our knees.
We bowed our necks to service-they ne'er were loosed again,-
Make way there, way for the ten-foot teams
Of the Forty-Pounder train!
Pro Patria
© William Henry Drummond
An' soon deres comin', all dress to kill,
Beeg feller from far away,
Shoutin' lak devil on top de hill,
An' dis is de t'ing he say--
