Poems begining by P
/ page 35 of 110 /Poesia
© Pablo Neruda
Y fue a esa edad... Llegó la poesía
a buscarme. No sé, no sé de dónde
salió, de invierno o río.
No sé cómo ni cuándo,
Parvenu
© Vachel Lindsay
Where does Cinderella sleep?
By far-off day-dream river.
A secret place her burning Prince
Decks, while his heart-strings quiver.
Peruvian Tales: Cora, Tale VI
© Helen Maria Williams
The troops of ALMAGRO and ALPHONSO meet on the plain of CUZCO -. MANCO -CAPAC attacks them by nights-His army is defeated, and he is forced to fly with its scattered remains-CORA goes in search of him- Her infant in her arms-Overcome with fatigue, she rests at the foot of a mountain-An earthquake-A band of Indians fly to the mountain for shelter-CORA discovers her husband-Their interview-Her death -He escapes with his infant-ALMAGRO claims a share of the spoils of Cuzco-His contention with PIZARRO -The Spaniards destroy each other-ALMAGRO is taken prisoner, and put to death-His soldiers, in revenge, assassinate PIZARRO in his palace-LAS CASAS dies-The annual festival of the PERUVIANS -Their victories over the Spaniards in Chili-A wish for the restoration of their liberty-Conclusion.
Pot And Kettle
© Robert Graves
Come close to me, dear Annie, while I bind a lover's knot.
A tale of burning love between a kettle and a pot.
The pot was stalwart iron and the kettle trusty tin,
And though their sides were black with smoke they bubbled love within.
Phantoms
© Madison Julius Cawein
This was her home; one mossy gable thrust
Above the cedars and the locust trees:
This was her home, whose beauty now is dust,
A lonely memory for melodies
The wild birds sing, the wild birds and the bees.
Phil-O-Rum's Canoe
© William Henry Drummond
O Ma ole canoe! w'at's matter wit' you,
an' w'y was you be so slow?
Praise Of Ysolt
© Ezra Pound
In vain have I striven,
to teach my heart to bow;
In vain have I said to him
'There be many singers greater than thou'.
Pruning Flowering Gums
© Lesbia Harford
One summer day, along the street,
Men pruned the gums
To make them neat.
The tender branches, white with flowers,
Prayer (II)
© George Herbert
Of what an easie quick accesse,
My blessed Lord, art thou! how suddenly
May our requests thine eare invade!
To shew that state dislikes not easinesse,
If I but lift mine eyes, my suit is made:
Thou canst no more not heare, than thou canst die.
Pierrot
© Sara Teasdale
Pierrot stands in the garden
Beneath a waning moon,
And on his lute he fashions
A little silver tune.
Poor Thyrsis! What boots it to weep out thine eyes?
© Theocritus
Poor Thyrsis! What boots it to weep out thine eyes?
Thy kid was a fair one, I own:
But the wolf with his cruel claw made her his prize,
And to darkness her spirit hath flown.
Do the dogs cry? What boots it? In spite of their cries
There is left of her never a bone.
Peace
© Sir Henry Newbolt
No more to watch by Night's eternal shore,
With England's chivalry at dawn to ride;
No more defeat, faith, victory---O! no more
A cause on earth for which we might have died.
Psalm
© Georg Trakl
It is a light, that the wind has extinguished.
It is a pub on the heath, that a drunk departs in the afternoon.
"PH. Best & Co.'s Lager-Beer"
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
In every part of the thrifty town,
Whether my course be up or down,
In lane, and alley, and avenue,
Painted in yellow, and red, and blue,
This side and that, east and west,
Was this flaunting sign-board of "Ph. Best."
Perdition
© Arthur Symons
Why have I never loved? Is it that I am abnormal,
Condemned for my sins, not as some in absurd concavity
Private Eye Lettuce
© Richard Brautigan
Three crates of Private Eye Lettuce,
the name and drawing of a detective
Political Intelligence
© Arthur James Marshall Smith
Nobody said Apples for nearly a minute
I thought I should die.
Patriotism
© Robert Fuller Murray
There was a time when it was counted high
To be a patriot-whether by the zeal
Of peaceful labour for the country's weal,
Or by the courage in her cause to die: