Poems begining by R
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Romeo and Juliet
© Richard Brautigan
If you will die for me,
I will die for you
and our graves will be like two lovers washing
their clothes together
Re-adjustment
© Clive Staples Lewis
I thought there would be a grave beauty, a sunset splendour
In being the last of one's kind: a topmost moment as one watched
The huge wave curving over Atlantis, the shrouded barge
Turning away with wounded Arthur, or Ilium burning.
Refrain
© Helen Hunt Jackson
Of all the songs which poets sing
The ones which are most sweet
Are those which at close intervals
A low refrain repeat;
Red Dust
© Philip Levine
This harpie with dry red curls
talked openly of her husband,
his impotence, his death, the death
of her lover, the birth and death
Rosabelle
© Sir Walter Scott
O listen, listen, ladies gay!
No haughty feat of arms I tell;
Soft is the note, and sad the lay
That mourns the lovely Rosabelle.
Rich and Rare Were the Gems She Wore
© Thomas Moore
Rich and rare were the gems she wore,
And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore;
But oh! her beauty was far beyond
Her sparkling gems, or snow-white wand.
Remember Thee!
© Thomas Moore
Remember thee! yes, while there's life in this heart,
It shall never forget thee, all lorn as thou art;
More dear in thy sorrow, thy gloom, and thy showers,
Than the rest of the world in their sunniest hours.
Repentance
© George Herbert
Lord, I confess my sin is great;
Great is my sin. Oh! gently treat
With thy quick flow'r, thy momentany bloom;
Whose life still pressing
Is one undressing,
A steady aiming at a tomb.
Redemption
© George Herbert
Having been tenant long to a rich lord,
Not thriving, I resolved to be bold,
And make a suit unto him, to afford
A new small-rented lease, and cancel the old.
Rice Pudding
© Alan Alexander Milne
What is the matter with Mary Jane?
She's crying with all her might and main,
And she won't eat her dinner - rice pudding again -
What is the matter with Mary Jane?
Reeds of Innocence
© William Blake
Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he laughing said to me:
Romance
© Edgar Allan Poe
Romance, who loves to nod and sing
With drowsy head and folded wing
Among the green leaves as they shake
Far down within some shadowy lake,
Richard Coeur de Lion
© Marriott Edgar
Richard the First, Coeur-de-Lion,
Is a name that we speak of with pride,
Though he only lived six months in England
From his birth to the day that he died.
Root Cellar
© Theodore Roethke
Nothing would sleep in that cellar, dank as a ditch,
Bulbs broke out of boxes hunting for chinks in the dark,
Shoots dangled and drooped,
Lolling obscenely from mildewed crates,
Rainbird in the Annex
© Desi Di Nardo
I make my way to MacEwens salient red door
To catch some remnants of her
A faint scent lifting into old familiar skin
Her unbendable pronounced lightness absorbed by sky
Reading Moby-Dick at 30,000 Feet
© Tony Hoagland
At this height, Kansas
is just a concept,
a checkerboard design of wheat and corn
Recollections
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
Years upon years, as a course of clouds that thicken
Thronging the ways of the wind that shifts and veers,
Pass, and the flames of remembered fires requicken
Years upon years.
Rain Towards Morning
© Elizabeth Bishop
The great light cage has broken up in the air,
freeing, I think, about a million birds
whose wild ascending shadows will not be back,
and all the wires come falling down.
Roosters
© Elizabeth Bishop
At four o'clock
in the gun-metal blue dark
we hear the first crow of the first cock
