Morning poems

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Smile then, children, hand in handBright and white as the summer snow,Or that young King of the Grecian land,Who smiled on Thetis, long ago, --So long ago when, heart aflame,The grave and gentle Peleus cameTo the shore where the halcyon fliesTo wed the maiden of his devotion,The dancing lady with sky-blue eyes,Thetis, the darling of Paradise,The daughter of old Ocean

Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám

© Edward Fitzgerald

IHas flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight: And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caughtThe Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.

St. Transcona

© Fiorentino Jon Paul

Transcona calls me at three in the morningdemanding a rewrite

To a Very Young Lady

© Sir George Etherege

Brother and Sister

© George Eliot

The Young Captive

© Toru Dutt

The budding shoot ripens unharmed by the scythe,Without fear of the press, on vine branches lithe, Through spring-tide the green clusters bloom

An Evening Contemplation in a College

© Duncombe John

The Curfew tolls the hour of closing gates,With jarring sound the porter turns the key,Then in his dreary mansion slumb'ring waits,And slowly, sternly quits it -- tho' for me.

A Nupial Eve

© Sydney Thompson Dobell

The murmur of the mourning ghost That keeps the shadowy kine,"Oh, Keith of Ravelston, The sorrows of thy line!"

A little east of Jordan (59)

© Emily Dickinson

A little east of Jordan,Evangelists record,A gymnast and an angelDid wrestle long and hard,

The bustle in the house (1078)

© Emily Dickinson

The bustle in a houseThe morning after deathIs solemnest of industriesEnacted upon earth.

Sherbourne Morning

© Pier Giorgio Di Cicco

I begin to understand the old men, parked on benchessmoking a bit of July, waiting for the earlybottle; the large tears of the passers-by, wrappedin white cotton, the world bandaged at 7 AM; when the day goes old, they lean overand nod into their arms, lovers, one-time carriersof their separate hearts; their wives, their childrenare glass partitions through which they see themselvescrying

I Want You to See

© Pier Giorgio Di Cicco

I want you to see the hole in my shirt where yourheart went through like a Colt 45, and openeda dream at the back of the neck

The Husband’s and Wife’s Grave

© Dana Richard Henry

Husband and wife! No converse now ye hold,As once ye did in your young days of love,On its alarms, its anxious hours, delays,Its silent meditations, its glad hopes,Its fears, impatience, quiet sympathies;Nor do ye speak of joy assured, and blissFull, certain, and possessed

Forty Below

© Dafoe Christopher

From this valley we hope to be going,When at last we can travel alone,For we're sick of the snow and the dust storms,In Toronto we'll find a new home.

Heard

© Currin Jen

Genius is the word for I've lost the joband my heart is breakfast.

Marching On

I heard the young lads singing In the still morning air,Gaily the notes came ringing Across the lilac'd square;They sang like happy children Who know not doubt or care, "As WE GO MARCHING ON."

Charing Cross

At five o'clock they ring a tinkly bell;The April dawn glimmers along the beds,There is a lifting up of weary headsFrom weary pillows

Jesus the Low Rider

© Crosbie Lynn

take a little triptake a little trip with me

The Task: from Book V: The Winter Morning Walk

'Tis morning; and the sun, with ruddy orbAscending, fires th' horizon: while the clouds,That crowd away before the driving wind,More ardent as the disk emerges more,Resemble most some city in a blaze,Seen through the leafless wood