Famous poems that start with letter P
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Penniwit, the Artist by Edgar Lee Masters
I lost my patronage in Spoon River
From trying to put my mind in the camera
To catch the soul of t.. Paul McNeely by Edgar Lee Masters Dear Jane! dear winsome Jane! How you stole in the room (where I lay so ill) In your nurse’s cap a.. Peleg Poague by Edgar Lee Masters Horses and men are just alike. There was my stallion, Billy Lee, Black as a cat and trim as a deer.. Pauline Barrett by Edgar Lee Masters Almost the shell of a woman after the surgeon’s knife! And almost a year to creep back into strengt.. Percy Bysshe Shelley by Edgar Lee Masters My father who owned the wagon-shop And grew rich shoeing horses Sent me to the University of Montr.. Plymouth Rock Joe by Edgar Lee Masters Why are you running so fast hither and thither Chasing midges or butterflies? Some of you are stan.. Percival Sharp by Edgar Lee Masters Observe the clasped hands! Are they hands of farewell or greeting, Hands that I helped or hands th.. Petit, The Poet by Edgar Lee Masters Seeds in a dry pod, tick, tick, tick, Tick, tick, tick, like mites in a quarrel-- Faint iambics th.. Phallus by Alec Derwent Hope This was the gods’ god, The leashed divinity, Divine divining rod And Me within the me. By min.. Parabola by Alec Derwent Hope Year after year the princess lies asleep Until the hundred years foretold are done, Easily drawing.. Portrait in Georgia by Jean Toomer Hair--braided chestnut, coiled like a lyncher’s rope, Eyes--fagots, Lips--old scars, or the first.. People by Jean Toomer To those fixed on white, White is white, To those fixed on black, It is the same, And red is red.. Portrait of a Lady by T. S. Eliot Thou hast committed— Fornication: but that was in another country, And besides, the wench is dead... Preludes by T. S. Eliot I THE WINTER evening settles down With smell of steaks in passageways. Six o’clock. The burnt-.. Poet And Peer by Robert William Service They asked the Bard of Ayr to dine; The banquet hall was fit and fine, With gracing it a Lord; Th.. Portrait by Robert William Service Painter, would you make my picture? Just forget the moral stricture. Let me sit With my belly to.. Portrait by Robert William Service Because life’s passing show Is little to his mind, There is a man I know Indrawn from human kind... Poor Poet by Robert William Service ’A man should write to please himself,’ He proudly said. Well, see his poems on the shelf, Dusty,.. Prelude by Robert William Service Because the rhymes I make for raiment Fail to avail its meed of payment, I fain must make my well-.. Pilgrims by Robert William Service For oh, when the war will be over We’ll go and we’ll look for our dead; We’ll go when the bee’s on.. |
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