Morning poems
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The Cap And Bells; Or, The Jealousies: A Faery Tale -- Unfinished
© John Keats
I.
In midmost Ind, beside Hydaspes cool,
Le Forgeron (The Blacksmith)
© Arthur Rimbaud
Le bras sur un marteau gigantesque, effrayant
D'ivresse et de grandeur, le front large, riant
Gladys And Her Island
© Jean Ingelow
“Ah, well, but I am here; but I have seen
The gay gorse bushes in their flowering time;
I know the scent of bean-fields; I have heard
The satisfying murmur of the main.”
In The Dark City
© John Hall Wheelock
There is a harper plays
Through the long watches of the lonely night
When, like a cemetery,
Sleeps the dark city, with her millions laid each in his tomb.
The Golden Flower
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
WHEN Advent dawns with lessening days,
While earth awaits the angels' hymn;
The Child Of The Islands - Spring
© Caroline Norton
I.
WHAT shalt THOU know of Spring? A verdant crown
Of young boughs waving o'er thy blooming head:
White tufted Guelder-roses, showering down
By an Evolutionist
© Alfred Tennyson
The Lord let the house of a brute to the soul of a man,
And the man said, Am I your debtor?
And the LordNot yet; but make it as clean as you can,
And then I will let you a better.
A Death in the Bush
© Henry Kendall
For, ere the early settlers came and stocked
These wilds with sheep and kine, the grasses grew
So that they took the passing pilgrim in
And whelmed him, like a running sea, from sight.
Again Rejoicing Nature Sees
© Robert Burns
In vain to me the cowslips blaw,
In vain to me the vi'lets spring;
In vain to me, in glen or shaw,
The mavis and the lintwhite sing.
And maun I still…
The Return Of Peace
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
They could not quell the grieved and shuddering air,
That breathed about me its forlorn despair:
It almost seemed as if stern Triumph sped
To one whose hopes were dead,
And flaunting there his fortune's ruddier grace,
Smote--with a taunt--wan Misery in the face!
The Baptism
© France Preseren
(an excerpt from the epic The Baptism at The Savica)
The warring clouds have vanished from the skies;
The Sailor's Grave at Clo-oose, V.I.
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
And watch for the deep-sea liner climbing
Out of the bright West,
With a salmon-sky and her wake shining
Like a tern's breast, -
In Plaster
© Sylvia Plath
I shall never get out of this! There are two of me now:
This new absolutely white person and the old yellow one,
To An Old Schoolhouse
© Margaret Elizabeth Sangster
Down by the end of the lane it stands,
Where the sumac grows in a crimson thatch,
A Tale
© John Logan
Where pastoral Tweed, renown'd in song,
With rapid murmur flows;
In Caledonia's classic ground,
The hall of Arthur rose.
The Origin of the Sail
© Amelia Opie
"Sweet maid! on whom my wishes rest,
My morning thought, my midnight dream,
O grant Lysander's fond request,
And let those eyes with mercy beam!
To W. Hohenzollern, On Resuming The Conning Tower
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Well William, since I wrote you long ago-
As I recall, one cool October morning-
(I have The Tribune files. They clearly show
I gave you warning).
Freedoms
© Gerald Gould
To every hill there is a lowly slope,
But some have heights beyond all height--so high
They make new worlds for the adventuring eye.
We for achievement have forgone our hope,
And shall not see another morning ope,
Nor the new moon come into the new sky.
