Poems begining by P
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Poem Read At The Dinner Given To The Author By The Medical Profession Of The City Of New York, April
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Good was the dinner, better was the talk;
Some whispered, devious was the homeward walk;
The story came from some reporting spy,
They lie, those fellows, oh, how they do lie!
Not ours those foot-tracks in the new-fallen snow,
Poets and sages never zigzagged so!
People In Church
© Arthur Rimbaud
Penned between oaken pews,
in corners of the church which their breath stinkingly warms,
all their eyes on the chancel dripping with gold,
and the choir with its twenty pairs of jaws bawling pious hymns;
Private Property
© Aldous Huxley
Like fauns embossed in our domain,
We look abroad, and our calm eyes
Mark how the goatish gods of pain
Revel; and if by grim surprise
They break into our paradise,
Patient we build its beauty up again.
Paracelsus In Excelsis
© Ezra Pound
Being no longer human, why should I
Pretend humanity or don the frail attire?
Pity For Poor Africans
© William Cowper
I own I am shocked at the purchase of slaves,
And fear those who buy them and sell them are knaves;
What I hear of their hardships, their tortures, and groans
Is almost enough to draw pity from stones.
Parting: 1940
© John Frederick Nims
Not knowing in what season this again
Not knowing when again the arms outyearning
Nor the flung smile in eyes not knowing when
Poppies
© Leon Gellert
Some scarlet poppies lay upon our right.
He watched them through his periscope all day.
He watched then all the day; but in the night
They seemed to pass away.
Peace
© Bliss William Carman
THE sleeping tarn is dark
Below the wooded hill.
Save for its homing sounds,
The twilit world grows still.
Psalm II.
© John Milton
Why do the Gentiles tumult, and the Nations
Muse a vain thing, the Kings of th'earth upstand
With power, and Princes in their Congregations
Lay deep their plots together through each Land,
Prythee, sing something sweet to me
© Theocritus
Prythee, sing something sweet to me--you that can play
First and second at once. Then I too will essay
To croak on the pipes: and yon lad shall salute
Our ears with a melody breathed through his flute.
In the cave by the green oak our watch we will keep,
And goatish old Pan we'll defraud of his sleep.
Perhaps
© Gamaliel Bradford
He who knows what life and death is
Walks superior to fate.
Every word that Fortune saith is
Just accordant to his state.
Possessions
© Ken Smith
They spent my life plotting against me.
With nothing to do but cultivate themselves,
but to be there, aligning their shadows,
they were planning to undo me,
wanting to own me completely.
Psalm The 137th Paraphras'd To The 7th Verse
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Proud Babylon! Thou saw'st us weep;
Euphrates, as he pass'd along,
Saw, on his Banks, the Sacred Throng
A heavy, solemn Mourning keep.
Sad Captives to thy Sons, and Thee,
When nothing but our Tears were Free!
Propertius's Bid For Immortality
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Let us return, then, for a time,
To our accustomed round of rhyme;
And let my songs' familiar art
Not fail to move my lady's heart.
Prayer Before Birth
© Louis MacNeice
I am not yet born; O hear me.
Let not the bloodsucking bat or the rat or the stoat or the
club-footed ghoul come near me.
Persian Poem
© Amir Khusro
Kafir-e-ishqam musalmani mara darkaar neest
Har rag-e mun taar gashta hajat-e zunnaar neest;
Preface to God's Determinations Touching His Elect
© Edward Taylor
Infinity, when all things it beheld
In Nothing, and of Nothing all did build,
