Quivering like an eager race-horse to start
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