Poems begining by R
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Reply to Some Verses of J.M.B. Pigot, Esq.
© Lord Byron
Why, Pigot, complain of this damsel's disdain,
Why thus in despair do you fret?
For months you may try, yet, believe me, a sigh
Will never obtain a coquette.
Remember Him, Whom Passion's Power
© Lord Byron
Remember him, whom Passion's power
Severely---deeply---vainly proved:
Remember thou that dangerous hour,
When neither fell, though both were loved.
Remind Me Not, Remind Me Not
© Lord Byron
Remind me not, remind me not,
Of those beloved, those vanish'd hours,
When all my soul was given to thee;
Hours that may never be forgot,
Till Time unnerves our vital powers,
And thou and I shall cease to be.
Remo: "Drink, Drink, Drink"
© Sharon Esther Lampert
At Quattro Gatti, she is the poet-in-residence:
In Barcelona, Piccasso started here, painting
A humble sketch of a picket-white fence.
Regarding Art
© Nazim Hikmet
Sometimes, I, too, tell the ah's
of my heart one by one
like the blood-red beads
of a ruby rosary strung
on strands of golden hair!
Resignation
© Walter Savage Landor
WHY, why repine, my pensive friend,
At pleasures slipp'd away?
Some the stern Fates will never lend,
And all refuse to stay.
Remain!
© Walter Savage Landor
REMAIN, ah not in youth alone!
--Tho' youth, where you are, long will stay--
But when my summer days are gone,
And my autumnal haste away.
Rose Aylmer
© Walter Savage Landor
Ah, what avails the sceptred race!
Ah, what the form divine!
What every virtue, every grace!
Rose Aylmer, all were thine.
Religion.
© Robert Crawford
Priests indeed may prate
This side o' death, but 'yond the bourne
Their service fails.
Read Your Fate
© Charles Simic
A world's disappearing.
Little street,
You were too narrow,
Too much in the shade already.
Request to a Year
© Judith Wright
If the year is meditating a suitable gift,
I should like it to be the attitude
of my great- great- grandmother,
legendary devotee of the arts,
Richard H. Dana, Sen.
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
O DEEP grave eyes! that long have seemed to gaze
On our low level from far loftier days,
O grand gray head! all aureole seemed to gird,
Drawn from the spirit's pure, immaculate rays!
Russian Cathedral
© Claude McKay
Bow down my soul and let the wondrous light
Of beauty bathe thee from her lofty throne,
Bow down before the wonder of man's might.
Bow down in worship, humble and alone;
Bow lowly down before the sacred sight
Of man's divinity alive in stone.
Romance
© Claude McKay
To clasp you now and feel your head close-pressed,
Scented and warm against my beating breast;To whisper soft and quivering your name,
And drink the passion burning in your frame;To lie at full length, taut, with cheek to cheek,
And tease your mouth with kisses till you speakLove words, mad words, dream words, sweet senseless words,
Rest in Peace
© Claude McKay
No more for you the city's thorny ways,
The ugly corners of the Negro belt;
The miseries and pains of these harsh days
By you will never, never again be felt.
Reed Call For April
© Madison Julius Cawein
When April comes, and pelts with buds
And apple-blooms each orchard space,
And takes the dog-wood-whitened woods
With rain and sunshine of her moods,
Like your fair face, like your fair face:
Rumors from an Aeolian Harp
© Henry David Thoreau
There love is warm, and youth is young,
And poetry is yet unsung.
For Virtue still adventures there,
And freely breathes her native air.
Resolution And Independence
© William Wordsworth
I There was a roaring in the wind all night;
The rain came heavily and fell in floods;
But now the sun is rising calm and bright;
The birds are singing in the distant woods;
