Poems begining by P

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Pastoral Sung To The King

© Robert Herrick

MON. Bad are the times. SIL. And worse than they are we.

MON. Troth, bad are both; worse fruit, and ill the tree:

Plain Language From Truthful James

© Francis Bret Harte

Which I wish to remark,
And my language is plain,
That for ways that are dark
And for tricks that are vain,
The heathen Chinee is peculiar,
Which the same I would rise to explain.

Proud With the Spoils of Royal Cully

© Charles Sackville

Proud with the spoils of royal cully,
With false pretence to wit and parts,
She swaggers like a batter'd bully
To try the tempers of men's hearts.

Paradise Regain'd: Book IV (1671)

© Patrick Kavanagh

PErplex'd and troubl'd at his bad success

The Tempter stood, nor had what to reply,

Paradise Regain'd: Book I (1671)

© Patrick Kavanagh

I Who e're while the happy Garden sung,

By one mans disobedience lost, now sing

Paths

© John Montague

Sealed off by sweetpea
clambering up its wired fence,
the tarred goats' shack
which stank in summer,
in its fallow, stone-heaped corner.

When the world is reduced to a single dark wood for our two pairs of dazzled eyes—to a beach for two faithful children—to a musical house for our clear understanding—then I shall find you.
When there is only one old man on earth, lonely, peaceful, handsome, living in unsurpassed luxury, then I am at your feet.
When I have realized all your memories, —when I am the girl who can tie your hands,—then I will stifle you.

Paraphrase Of Psalm: CXLVIII

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

PRAISE ye the Lord! on every height
Songs to his glory raise!
Ye angel-hosts, ye stars of light,
Join in immortal praise!

Prayer For The Lord's Promised Presence

© John Newton

Son of God! thy people's shield!
Must we still thine absence mourn?
Let thy promise be fulfilled,
Thou hast said, I will return!

Prophecy

© Jules Supervielle

One day the Earth will be
just a blind space turning,
night confused with day.
Under the vast Andean sky
there’ll be no more mountains,
not a rock or ravine.

Pyrography

© John Ashbery

Out here on Cottage Grove it matters. The galloping

Wind balks at its shadow. The carriages

Prayer For The Home

© Edgar Albert Guest

Peace, unto this house, I pray,
Keep terror and despair away;
Shield it from evil and let sin
Never find lodging room within.
May never in these walls be heard
The hateful or accusing word.

Pharaoh and the Sergeant

© Rudyard Kipling

Said England unto Pharaoh, "I must make a man of you,

That will stand upon his feet and play the game;

Preparatory Meditations - First Series: 6.

Am I Thy gold? Or purse, Lord, for Thy wealth;
Whether in mine or mint refined for Thee?
I'm counted so, but count me o'er Thyself,
Lest gold-washed face, and brass in heart I be.
I fear my touchstone touches when I try
Me, and my counted gold too overly.

Political Reflection

No bars are set too close, no mesh too fine
To keep me from the eagle and the lion,
Whom keepers feed that I may freely dine.
This goes to show that if you have the wit
To be small, common, cute, and live on shit,
Though the cage fret kings, you may make free with it.