R
Rage, rage ye tears, that never more should creep like hounds about God's footstool
Ran like a young fawn
Rattle in the ear like a flourish of trumpets
Rays springing from the east like golden arrows
Red as the print of a kiss might be
Redolent with the homely scent of old-fashioned herbs and flowers
Reflected each in the other like stars in a lake
Refreshed like dusty grass after a shower
Refreshing as descending rains to sunburnt climes
Remote as the hidden star
Restless as a blue-bottle fly on a warm summer's day
Revealed his doings like those of bees in a glass hive
Rich as the dawn
Ride like the wind through the night
Rivers that like silver threads ran through the green and gold of pasture lands
Roared like mountain torrents
Rolling it under the tongue as a sweet morsel
Round my chair the children run like little things of dancing gold
Ruddy as sunrise
Ruddy his face as the morning light
Ruffling out his cravat with a crackle of starch, like a turkey when it spreads its feathers
Running to and fro like frightened sheep
Rushing and hurrying about like a June-bug