Morning poems

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"Earth's children cleave to Earth"

© William Cullen Bryant

Earth's children cleave to Earth--her frail

  Decaying children dread decay.

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The Gossips

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler


And the dark, handsome Bee, with his cloak o'er his shoulder,
Came swift through the sunlight and kissed the sad Rose,
And whispered: "My darling, I've roved the world over,
And you are the loveliest flower that grows."

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The Muses Threnodie: Sixth Muse

© Henry Adamson

From thence we passing by the Windy Gowle,
Did make the hollow rocks with echoes yowle,
And all alongst the mountains of Kinnoull,
Where did we shoot at many fox and fowl.

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Poems For Piraye (9 To 10 O’Clock Poems)

© Nazim Hikmet

Remembering you is good
in prison
amid the news
of victory and death
as my fortieth year passes...

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A Dream

© Matthew Arnold

Was it a dream? We sail'd, I thought we sail'd,

Martin and I, down the green Alpine stream,

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"The Undying One" - Canto IV

© Caroline Norton

On she goes, and the waves are dashing
Under her stern, and under her prow;
Oh! pleasant the sound of the waters splashing
To those who the heat of the desert know.

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Don Juan: Canto The Seventeenth

© George Gordon Byron

The world is full of orphans: firstly, those

  Who are so in the strict sense of the phrase

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A Word For It

© Franklin Pierce Adams

"Scorn not the sonnet." Well, I reckon not,

  I would not scorn a rondeau, villanelle,

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When I Woke

© Dylan Thomas

When I woke, the town spoke.

Birds and clocks and cross bells

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Verse

© Nizar Qabbani

1
Friends
The old word is dead.
The old books are dead.
Our speech with holes like worn-out shoes is dead.
Dead is the mind that led to defeat.

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The Spirit Of Discovery By Sea - Book The First

© William Lisle Bowles

Awake a louder and a loftier strain!

  Beloved harp, whose tones have oft beguiled

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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Poet's Tale; The Birds of Killingworth

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

It was the season, when through all the land

  The merle and mavis build, and building sing

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Morning

© Edith Nesbit

DAWN in the east, and chill dew falling--

  Tears of the new-born day;

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St. Michael's Mount

© William Lisle Bowles

INSCRIBED TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD SOMERS.

  While summer airs scarce breathe along the tide,

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Marianna Alcoforando

© Sara Teasdale

But I have seen my day grow calm again.
The sun sets slowly on a peaceful world,
And sheds a quiet light across the fields.

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Instead of Sitting Wrapped up in Flannel

© Thomas Love Peacock

Instead of sitting wrapped up in flannel

 With rheumatism in every joint,

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Extempore Lines

© Henry Kendall

A MORNING crowns the Western hill,

  A day begins to reign,

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A Complaint On The Miseries Of Life

© James Thomson

I loathe, O Lord, this life below,
And all its fading fleeting joys;
'Tis a short space that's fill'd with woe,
Which all our bliss by far outweighs.

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The Missionary - Canto First

© William Lisle Bowles

  Three hundred brandished spears shone to the sky:
  We perish, or we leave our country free;
  Father, our blood for Chili and for thee!
  The mountain-chief essayed his club to wield,
  And shook the dust indignant from the shield. 
  Then spoke:--

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The Shepherds Calendar - July (2nd version)

© John Clare

July the month of summers prime
Again resumes her busy time
Scythes tinkle in each grassy dell
Where solitude was wont to dwell