Morning poems

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The Willow-Tree

© William Makepeace Thackeray

Domine, Domine!
Sing we a litany,
Sing for poor maiden-hearts broken and weary;
Domine, Domine!
Sing we a litany,
Wail we and weep we a wild Miserere!

The Peace Convention At Brussels

© John Greenleaf Whittier

STILL in thy streets, O Paris! doth the stain
Of blood defy the cleansing autumn rain;
Still breaks the smoke Messina's ruins through,
And Naples mourns that new Bartholomew,

Immutable

© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

AUTUMN to winter, winter into spring,
Spring into summer, summer into fall,--
So rolls the changing year, and so we change;
Motion so swift, we know not that we move.

Macleay Street and Red Rock Lane

© Henry Lawson

MACLEAY STREET looks to Mosman,

Across the other side,

Birthday Verses

© Thomas Hood

Good morrow to the golden morning,
Good morrow to the world's delight
I've come to bless thy life's beginning,
Since it makes my own so bright!

Pharsalia - Book IX: Cato

© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus

Such were the words he spake; and soon the fleet
Had dared the angry deep: but Cato's voice
While praising, calmed the youthful chieftain's rage.

Martha

© Robert Laurence Binyon

A woman sat, with roses red
Upon her lap before her spread,
On that high bridge whose parapet
Wide over turbulent Thames is set,

Think how the hidden things that poets see
In amber eves or mornings crystalline,
Hide in the soul their constant quenchless light,
Till, called by some celestial alchemy,
Out of forgotten depths, they rise and shine
Like buried treasure on Midsummer night.

Brisbane Ladies

© Anonymous

Farewell and adieu to you, Brisbane ladies
Farewell and adieu, you maids of Toowong
We've sold all our cattle and we have to get a movin'
But we hope we shall see you again before long.

Hermann And Dorothea - VIII. Melpomene

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

But she conceal'd the pain which she felt, and jestingly spoke thus
"It betokens misfortune,--so scrupulous people inform us,--
For the foot to give way on entering a house, near the threshold.
I should have wish'd, in truth, for a sign of some happier omen!
Let us tarry a little, for fear your parents should blame you
For their limping servant, and you should be thought a bad landlord."

Modern Greece

© Richard Monckton Milnes

As, in the legend which our childhood loved,
The destined prince was guided to the bed,
Where, many a silent year, the charmèd Maid
Lay still, as though she were not; nor could wake,

Playing For Keeps

© Edgar Albert Guest

I've watched him change from his bibs and things, from bonnets known as "cute,"

To little frocks, and later on I saw him don a suit;

The Dead Coach

© Katharine Tynan

At night when sick folk wakeful lie,
I heard the dead coach passing by,
And heard it passing wild and fleet,
And knew my time was come not yet.

Lost Mr. Blake

He was quite indifferent as to the particular kinds of dresses
That the clergyman wore at church where he used to go to pray,
And whatever he did in the way of relieving a chap's distresses,
He always did in a nasty, sneaking, underhanded, hole-and-corner
sort of way.

Tired

No not to-night, dear child; I cannot go;
I'm busy, tired; they knew I should not come;
you do not need me there. Dear, be content,
and take your pleasure; you shall tell me of it.
There, go to don your miracles of gauze,
and come and show yourself a great pink cloud.

The Borough. Letter XIX: The Parish-Clerk

WITH our late Vicar, and his age the same,
His clerk, hight Jachin, to his office came;
The like slow speech was his, the like tall slender

Hattie House

Come all kind friends, wherever you may be,
Come listen to what I say,
It's of a little girl that was pleasant to see,
And she died while out doors at play.

I

The apples hung until a wind at the equinox,

Cairnsmill Den

As I, with hopeless love o'erthrown,
With love o'erthrown, with love o'erthrown,
And this is truth I tell,
As I, with hopeless love o'erthrown,
Was sadly walking all alone,