Morning poems
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This Unimportant Morning
© Lawrence Durrell
This unimportant morning
Something goes singing where
The capes turn over on their sides
And the warm Adriatic rides
Her blue and sun washing
At the edge of the world and its brilliant cliffs.
Child Of Dawn
© Harold Monro
I need thy hands, O gentle wonder-child,
For they are moulded unto all repose;
Thy lips are frail,
And thou art cooler than an April rose;
White are thy words and mild:
Child of the morning, hail!
James Shirley: XIV
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
And in the thickening twilight under thee
Walks Davenant, pensive in the paths where he,
The blithest throat that ever carolled love
In music made of mornings merriest heart,
Glad Suckling, stumbled from his seat above
And reeled on slippery roads of alien art.
Happiness
© Raymond Carver
So early it's still almost dark out.
I'm near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.
The Troubadour. Canto 3
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
But sadness moved him when he gave
DE VALENCE to his lowly grave,--
The grave where the wild flowers were sleeping,
And one pale olive-tree was weeping,--
And placed the rude stone cross to show
A Christian hero lay below.
To The King Of Macedonia
© George Moses Horton
Thou may'st with pleasure hail the dawn,
And greet the morning's eye;
Remember, king, the night comes on,
The fleeting day will soon be gone,
Not distant, loud proclaims the funeral tone,
Phillip, thou hast to die.
Flora
© Charlotte Turner Smith
REMOTE from scenes, where the o'erwearied mind
Shrinks from the crimes and follies of mankind,
Bereavement Of The Fields
© William Wilfred Campbell
Soft fall the February snows, and soft
Falls on my heart the snow of wintry pain;
For never more, by wood or field or croft,
Will he we knew walk with his loved again;
The Charm
© Rupert Brooke
Your magic and your beauty and your strength,
Like hills at noon or sunlight on a tree,
Sleeping prevail in earth and air.
The Door and the Window
© Henry Reed
My love, you are timely come, let me lie by your heart.
For waking in the dark this morning, I woke to that mystery,
Which we can all wake to, at some dark time or another:
Waking to find the room not as I thought it was,
But the window further away, and the door in another direction.
The Singing Leaves
© James Russell Lowell
'What fairings will ye that I bring?'
Said the King to his daughters three;
'For I to Vanity Fair am bound,
Now say what shall they be?'
Goddess In The Wood, The
© Rupert Brooke
Till a swift terror broke the abrupt hour.
The gold waves purled amidst the green above her;
And a bird sang. With one sharp-taken breath,
By sunlit branches and unshaken flower,
The immortal limbs flashed to the human lover,
And the immortal eyes to look on death.
Ode to Memory
© Alfred Tennyson
O strengthen me, englighten me!
I faint in this obscurity,
Thou dewy dawn of memory.
Safety
© Rupert Brooke
Dear! of all happy in the hour, most blest
He who has found our hid security,
Assured in the dark tides of the world that rest,
And heard our word, 'Who is so safe as we?'
II. Safety
© Rupert Brooke
Dear! of all happy in the hour, most blest
He who has found our hid security,
Assured in the dark tides of the world that rest,
And heard our word, `Who is so safe as we?'
Charm, The
© Rupert Brooke
Your magic and your beauty and your strength,
Like hills at noon or sunlight on a tree,
Sleeping prevail in earth and air.
Easter-Day
© Alessandro Manzoni
Yes, HE IS RISEN. That hallowéd head
No longer lies wrapped in the cloth of the dead.
HE IS SURELY RISEN. At the side of the tomb
Lies the overturned door of the solitary room.
Like the valorous champion drunk after strife
The LORD has awaked to omnipotent life;
The Little Dog's Day
© Rupert Brooke
All in the town were still asleep,
When the sun came up with a shout and a leap.
In the lonely streets unseen by man,
A little dog danced. And the day began.
