Poems begining by R
/ page 56 of 62 /
Rabbi Ben Ezra
© Robert Browning
Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made:
Our times are in His hand
Who saith 'A whole I planned,
Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!'
Reveille
© Alfred Edward Housman
Wake: the silver dusk returning
Up the beach of darkness brims,
And the ship of sunrise burning
Strands upon the eastern rims.
Rosemary
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
For the sake of some things
That be now no more
I will strew rushes
On my chamber-floor,
I will plant bergamot
At my kitchen-door.
Recuerdo
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
WE were very tired, we were very merry
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable
But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table,
We lay on a hill-top underneath the moon;
And the whistles kept blowing, and the dawn came soon.
Renascence
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
Over these things I could not see;
These were the things that bounded me;
And I could touch them with my hand,
Almost, I thought, from where I stand.
And all at once things seemed so small
My breath came short, and scarce at all.
Riprap
© Gary Snyder
Lay down these words
Before your mind like rocks.
placed solid, by hands
In coice of place, set
Rousseau
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Monument of our own age's shame,
On thy country casting endless blame,
Rousseau's grave, how dear thou art to me
Calm repose be to thy ashes blest!
In thy life thou vainly sought'st for rest,
But at length 'twas here obtained by thee!
Rapture -- To Laura
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
From earth I seem to wing my flight,
And sun myself in Heaven's pure light,
When thy sweet gaze meets mine
I dream I quaff ethereal dew,
When my own form I mirrored view
In those blue eyes divine!
Robin Hood
© John Keats
to a friend No! those days are gone away
And their hours are old and gray,
And their minutes buried all
Under the down-trodden pall
Resolutions
© John Matthew
Resolutions I have made,
Kept, I have none,
Why do I have to make,
Resolutions anymore?
Riddle
© Richard Wilbur
Where far in forest I am laid,
In a place ringed around by stones,
Look for no melancholy shade,
And have no thoughts of buried bones;
Rain Has Fallen All the Day
© James Joyce
Rain has fallen all the day.
O come among the laden trees:
The leaves lie thick upon the way
Of memories.
Realization
© Lucy Maud Montgomery
I smiled with skeptic mocking where they told me you were dead,
You of the airy laughter and lightly twinkling feet;
"They tell a dream that haunted a chill gray dawn," I said,
"Death could not touch or claim a thing so vivid and so sweet!"
Rain on the Hill
© Lucy Maud Montgomery
Now on the hill
The fitful wind is so still
That never a wimpling mist uplifts,
Nor a trembling leaf drop-laden stirs;
Rain along Shore
© Lucy Maud Montgomery
Wan white mists upon the sea,East wind harping mournfullyAll the sunken reefs along,Wail and heart-break in its song,But adown the placid bayFisher-folk keep holiday.
Rewards
© Robert Herrick
Still to our gains our chief respect is had ;
Reward it is that makes us good or bad.
Rusty Crimson
© Carl Sandburg
(Chirstmas Day, 1917)THE FIVE OCLOCK prairie sunset is a strong man going to sleep after a long day in a cornfield.
The red dust of a rusty crimson is fixed with two fingers of lavender. A hook of smoke, a womans nose in charcoal and
nothing.
River Roads
© Carl Sandburg
LET the crows go by hawking their caw and caw.
They have been swimming in midnights of coal mines somewhere.
Let em hawk their caw and caw.
River Moons
© Carl Sandburg
THE DOUBLE moon, one on the high back drop of the west, one on the curve of the river face,
The sky moon of fire and the river moon of water, I am taking these home in a basket, hung on an elbow, such a teeny weeny elbow, in my head.
I saw them last night, a cradle moon, two horns of a moon, such an early hopeful moon, such a childs moon for all young hearts to make a picture of.
The riverI remember this like a picturethe river was the upper twist of a written question mark.
I know now it takes many many years to write a river, a twist of water asking a question.
And white stars moved when the moon moved, and one red star kept burning, and the Big Dipper was almost overhead.
Repetitions
© Carl Sandburg
THEY are crying salt tears
Over the beautiful beloved body
Of Inez Milholland,
Because they are glad she lived,
