Poems begining by R
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Remembrance
© Emily Jane Brontë
COLD in the earth--and the deep snow piled above thee,
Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave!
Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee,
Sever'd at last by Time's all-severing wave?
Recollections
© Giacomo Leopardi
Ye dear stars of the Bear, I did not think
I should again be turning, as I used,
Rich Man And Lazarus
© Arthur Symons
All my wealth I would give,
I would give all my fame,
For a woman who would kiss me
And call me by my name.
Railway Station
© Boris Pasternak
My dear railway station, my treasure
Of meetings and partings, my friend
In times of hard trials and pleasure,
Your favours have been without end.
Reflections V.
© Samuel Rogers
Oh, if the selfish knew how much they lost,
What would they not endeavour, not endure,
To imitate, as far as in them lay,
Him who his wisdom and his power employs
In making others happy!
Racine And Shakespeare
© John Kenyon
As one too long immured in courtly bower,
Such as Le Nôtre shaped, high-wrought and trim,
Regret for Peony Flowers
© Bai Juyi
I'm saddened by the peonies before the steps, so red,
As evening came I found that only two remained.
Once morning's winds have blown, they surely won't survive,
At night I gaze by lamplight, to cherish the fading red.
Reward Of Fickleness
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
ALTON.
YOU see that man with the quick eyes and brow,
Too ponderous almost for his slender frame,
His dark locks tinged with gray; you'd hardly think it,
Running out of the nets
© Yosa Buson
Running out of the nets,
running out of the nets,
the water, the moon
Revolutions
© Matthew Arnold
Before man parted for this earthly strand,
While yet upon the verge of heaven he stood,
God put a heap of letters in his hand,
And bade him make with them what word he could.
Rhymed Plea For Tolerance - Prefatory Dialogue
© John Kenyon
Ye, thus who write in spite of critic law,
How had their satire kept your freaks in awe!
And, to sole sway controlling her pretence,
Bound Fancy down to compromise with Sense!
Revelation
© Aldous Huxley
Pure knowledge from this tainted well,
And now hears voices yet unheard
Within it, and without it sees
That world of which the poets tell
Their vision in the stammered word
Of those that wake from piercing ecstasies.
Red Lips Are Not So Red
© Wilfred Owen
Red lips are not so red
As the stained stones kissed by the English dead.
Kindness of wooed and wooer
Seems shame to their love pure.
O Love, your eyes lose lure
When I behold eyes blinded in my stead!
Rococo
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
TAKE HANDS and part with laughter;
Touch lips and part with tears;
Re an interuption to Orlando Innamorato
© Matteo Maria Boiardo
But while I sing, mine eyes, great God! behold
A flaming fire light all the Italian sky,
Brought by these French, who, with their myriads bold,
Come to lay waste, I know not where or why.
Therefore, at present, I must
Rencontre
© Henry Van Dyke
Oh, was I born too soon, my dear, or were you born too late,
That I am going out the door while you come in the gate?
Rehab by Thomas Reiter : American Life in Poetry #277 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Here’s hoping that very few of our readers have to go through cardiac rehab, which Thomas Reiter of New Jersey captures in this poem, but if they do, here’s hoping that they come through it feeling wildly alive and singing at the tops of their lungs.
Rehab
We wear harnesses like crossing guards.
