Poems begining by R

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62

Rain In The Desert

© John Gould Fletcher

The huge red-buttressed mesa over yonder

Is merely a far-off temple where the sleepy sun is burning

Romance

© Juan del Encina

Yo me estava reposando,

durmiendo como solía.

Requiescant

© Frederick George Scott

In lonely watches night by night
Great visions burst upon my sight,
For down the stretches of the sky
The hosts of dead go marching by.

Riches I hold in light esteem

© Emily Jane Brontë

Riches I hold in light esteem
And Love I laugh to scorn
And lust of Fame was but a dream
That vanished with the morn

Rome And Nature

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

Rome has fallen, ye see it lying
Heaped in undistinguished ruin:
Nature is alone undying.

You might try to drown the sorrow, but the drink has no effect;
You cannot stand the barmaid with her coarse and vulgar wit;
And so you seek the street again, and start for home direct,
When youre hit, old manhard hit.

Rendezvous

© Leon Gellert

I'll meet you where I left you there
Lying all awry.
You said, "We will continue the
Discussion by and by."
. . . . . . . .

Refuge

© Archibald Lampman

Where swallows and wheatfields are,
O hamlet brown and still,
O river that shineth far,
By meadow, pier, and mill:

Romero

© William Cullen Bryant

"Here will I make my home--for here at least I see,
Upon this wild Sierra's side, the steps of Liberty;
Where the locust chirps unscared beneath the unpruned lime,
And the merry bee doth hide from man the spoil of the mountain thyme;
Where the pure winds come and go, and the wild vine gads at will,
An outcast from the haunts of men, she dwells with Nature still.

Rose Mary

© Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Of her two fights with the Beryl-stone

Lost the first, but the second won.

Report To Crazy Horse

© William Stafford

Crazy Horse, tell me if I am right:
these are the things we thought we were
doing something about.

Rubaiyat 28

© Shams al-Din Hafiz

Dont let go of the cups lips
Till you receive your worldly tips.
Bittersweet is the worlds cup
From lovers lips and the cup sips.

Reverence Waking Hope

© George MacDonald

A power is on me, and my soul must speak

To thee, thou grey, grey man, whom I behold

Rich And Poor

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Hill and valley and mead and plain
Are all her own, with their wealth of grain.

Remonstrance

Oh! why those narrow rules extol?
These but restrain from ill,
True virtue lies in strength of soul
And energy of will.

Reply To A Magistrate

© Wang Wei

You want to taste success or failure?
A lone fisherman sings out on the water.

Rain in the Mountains

© Henry Lawson

The sky is of a leaden grey,
Save where the north is surly,
The driven daylight speeds away,
And night comes oer us early.

Radiator by Connie Wanek: American Life in Poetry #52 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006

© Ted Kooser

What a marvelous gift is the imagination, and each of us gets one at birth, free of charge and ready to start up, get on, and ride away. Can there be anything quite so homely and ordinary as a steam radiator? And yet, here, Connie Wanek, of Duluth, Minnesota, nudges one into play. Radiator

Mittens are drying on the radiator,
boots nearby, one on its side.
Like some monstrous segmented insect
the radiator elongates under the window.