Morning poems
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No Time Like The Old Time
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THERE is no time like the old time, when you and I were young,
When the buds of April blossomed, and the birds of spring-time sung!
The garden's brightest glories by summer suns are nursed,
But oh, the sweet, sweet violets, the flowers that opened first!
The Merchant
© Rabindranath Tagore
Imagine, mother, that you are to stay at home and I am to travel
into strange lands.
The King Of Denmark's Sons
© William Morris
In Denmark gone is many a year,
So fair upriseth the rim of the sun,
Two sons of Gorm the King there were,
So grey is the sea when day is done.
The Columbiad: Book III
© Joel Barlow
His eldest hope, young Rocha, at his call,
Resigns his charge within the temple wall;
In whom began, with reverend forms of awe,
The functions grave of priesthood and of law,
Among The Millet
© Archibald Lampman
The dew is gleaming in the grass,
The morning hours are seven,
And I am fain to watch you pass,
Ye soft white clouds of heaven.
Pasha Bailey Ben
© William Schwenck Gilbert
A proud Pasha was BAILEY BEN,
His wives were three, his tails were ten;
His form was dignified, but stout,
Men called him "Little Roundabout."
The Snowdrop In The Snow
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
O full of Faith! The Earth is rock,-the Heaven
The dome of a great palace all of ice,
The Psalm Of A Sojourner
© Henry Van Dyke
Thou hast taken me into the tent of the world, O God:
Beneath thy blue canopy I have found shelter:
Therefore thou wilt not deny me the right of a guest.
To Any Member Of My Generation
© George Barker
Whenever we kissed we cocked the future's rifles
And from our wild-oat words, like dragon's teeth,
Death underfoot now arises; when we were gay
Dancing together in what we hoped was life,
Who was it in our arms but the whores of death
Whom we have found in our beds today, today?
A Poor Excuse, But Our Own
© Franklin Pierce Adams
My right-hand neighbour hath a child,
A pretty child of five or six,
Not more than other children wild,
Nor fuller than the rest of tricks--
At five he rises, shine or rain,
And noisily plays "fire" or "train."
Nature
© James Beattie
O how canst thou renounce the boundless store
Of charms which Nature to her votary yields!
Girl At Midnight
© Weldon Kees
But I must dream once more of cities burned away,
Corrupted wood, and silence on the piers.
Love is a sickroom with the roof half gone
Where nights go down in a continual rain.
Is It Well?
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Saw you the youth, with the face like the morning,
Refilling the glass, that foamed white as the sea?
The Vision of the Rock
© Charles Harpur
I SATE upon a lonely peak,
A backwood rivers course to view,
The Imprisoned Innocents
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
ONE morning I said to my wife,
Near the time when the heavens are rife
With the Equinoctial strife,
"Arabella, the weather looks ugly as sin!
A Serious Question
© Carolyn Wells
A kitten went a-walking
One morning in July,
And idly fell a-talking
With a great big butterfly.
Nocturne
© Rubén Dario
I want to express my anguish in verses that speak
of my vanished youth, a time of dreams and roses,
and the bitter defloration of my life
by many small cares and one vast aching sorrow.
Retrospection
© William Lisle Bowles
I turn these leaves with thronging thoughts, and say,
Alas! how many friends of youth are dead;
