Poems begining by P
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Pax Britannica
© Alfred Austin
Behind her rolling ramparts England lay,
Impregnable, and girt by cliff-built towers,
Weaving to peace and plenty, day by day,
The long-drawn hours.
Passion And Love
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
A MAIDEN wept and, as a comforter,
Came one who cried, "I love thee," and he seized
Places
© Sara Teasdale
PLACES I love come back to me like music,
Hush me and heal me when I am very tired;
I see the oak woods at Saxton's flaming
In a flare of crimson by the frost newly fired;
Poor Patriarch by Susie Patlove : American Life in Poetry #245 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2
© Ted Kooser
I love the way the following poem by Susie Patlove opens, with the little rooster trying to “be what he feels he must be.” This poet lives in Massachusetts, in a community called Windy Hill, which must be a very good place for chickens, too.
Poor Patriarch
The rooster pushes his head
Prologue To The Second Part Of Henry IV
© Henry James Pye
AS ALTERED FROM SHAKESPEAR, BY THE REV. DR. VALPY, AND PERFORMED BY THE YOUNG GENTLEMEN OF READING SCHOOL.
Phases
© Wallace Stevens
I.
Theres a little square in Paris,
Waiting until we pass.
They sit idly there,
They sip the glass.
Philosophy
© Edith Nesbit
The sulky sage scarce condescends to see
This pretty world of sun and grass and leaves;
To him 'tis all illusion--only he
Is real amid the visions he perceives.
Paul's Voyage
© John Newton
If Paul in Caesar's court must stand,
He need not fear the sea;
Secured from harm, on every hand,
By the divine decree.
Passion makes the old medicine new:
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
Passion makes the old medicine new:
Passion lops off the bough of weariness.
Pride
© William Henry Drummond
Ma fader he spik to me long ago,
"Alphonse, it is better go leetle slow,
Plovers
© Padraic Colum
THE Plovers fly and cry around,
Unguided, nestless, without bourn,
Wandering and impetuous,
Turning and flying to return.
Paean
© John Greenleaf Whittier
NOW, joy and thanks forevermore!
The dreary night has wellnigh passed,
The slumbers of the North are o'er,
The Giant stands erect at last!
Pastiche
© Mathilde Blind
LOVE, oh, Love's a dainty sweeting,
Wooing now, and now retreating;
Brightest joy and blackest care,
Swift as light, and light as air.
Poetry Everywhere
© William Schwenck Gilbert
What time the poet hath hymned
The writhing maid, lithe-limbed,
Quivering on amaranthine asphodel,
How can he paint her woes,
Knowing, as well he knows,
That all can be set right with calomel?
Port Bou
© Stephen Spender
As a child holds a pet,
Arms clutching but with hands that do not join,
And the coiled animal watches the gap
To outer freedom in animal air,
Pain
© Sara Teasdale
WAVES are the sea's white daughters,
And raindrops the children of rain,
But why for my shimmering body
Have I a mother like Pain?
Premonition
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
LAST night I dreamed
No dream of joy or sorrow,
Yet, when I woke, I wept,
Knowing the brightness of some far to-morrow
Had darkened while I slept!
Parker Cleveland. Written On Revisiting Brunswick In The Summer of 1875
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Among the many lives that I have known,
None I remember more serene and sweet,
