Peter is a plain lad With a strong will. He never looks behind him When he climbs a hill. There are many others Equally as wise, With as much sparkle In their young eyes; But once Peter traveled Over foreign lands And brought back perfume In his simple hands; And when I breathe its fragrance Exotic and rare I think first of Peter And his red hair. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONGS OUT OF SORROW: REFUGE by SARA TEASDALE SONNET TO A FRIEND WHO ASKED, HOW I FELT ... MY INFANT TO ME by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE OLD KING COLE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON A SOUL; A STUDY by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI TIPPERARY: 2. AS THE TRANSLATORS WOULD HAVE INTERLINED IT . . . by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE WITCHES' FROLIC by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 17. THE CHILD by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |