Morning poems
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The Kiss
© Julia Caroline (Ripley) Dorr
When you lay before me dead,
In such pallid rest,
On those passive lips of thine
Not one kiss I pressed!
Voyagers
© Madison Julius Cawein
Where are they, that song and tale
Tell of? lands our childhood knew?
Sea-locked Faerylands that trail
Morning summits, dim with dew,
Crimson o'er a crimson sail.
The Princess (prologue)
© Alfred Tennyson
Sir Walter Vivian all a summer's day
Gave his broad lawns until the set of sun
The Camel-Rider
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
There is no thing in all the world but love,
No jubilant thing of sun or shade worth one sad tear.
Why dost thou ask my lips to fashion songs
Other than this, my song of love to thee?
Christmas Morn
© Claire Nixon
Cold frosty mornings
Ice on window pain
Huddle under coats
keep the warmth in
Domestic Work, 1937
© Natasha Trethewey
Windows and doors flung wide,
curtains two-stepping
forward and back, neck bones
bumping in the pot, a choir
of clothes clapping on the line.
Who Can Live In Heart So Glad
© Nicholas Breton
Who can live in heart so glad
As the merry country lad?
Jinny the Just
© Matthew Prior
Releas'd from the noise of the butcher and baker
Who, my old friends be thanked, did seldom forsake her,
And from the soft duns of my landlord the Quaker,
Death, that struck when I was most confiding
© Emily Jane Brontë
Death! that struck when I was most confiding.
In my certain faith of joy to be-
Strike again, Time's withered branch dividing
From the fresh root of Eternity!
A Better Answer
© Matthew Prior
Dear Chloe, how blubbered is that pretty face;
Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hair all uncurled!
Prithee quit this caprice, and (as old Falstaff says)
Let us e'en talk a little like folks of this world.
The Seasons: Winter
© James Thomson
OH! bear me then to high, embowering, Shades;
To twilight Groves, and visionary Vales;
To weeping Grottos, and to hoary Caves;
Where Angel-Forms are seen, and Voices heard,
Sigh'd in low Whispers, that abstract the Soul,
From outward Sense, far into Worlds remote.
The Lonely Life
© Giacomo Leopardi
The morning rain, when, from her coop released,
The hen, exulting, flaps her wings, when from
Julian and Maddalo : A Conversation
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I rode one evening with Count Maddalo
Upon the bank of land which breaks the flow
Of Adria towards Venice: a bare strand
Of hillocks, heaped from ever-shifting sand,
Gertrude of Wyoming
© Thomas Campbell
PART IOn Susquehanna's side, fair Wyoming!
Although the wild-flower on thy ruin'd wall,
And roofless homes, a sad remembrance bring,
Of what thy gentle people did befall;
Life
© William Cullen Bryant
Oh Life! I breathe thee in the breeze,
I feel thee bounding in my veins,
I see thee in these stretching trees,
These flowers, this still rock's mossy stains.
Alfred. Book IV.
© Henry James Pye
"I come," the stranger said, "from fields of fame,
A Saxon born, and Aribert my name.
I come from Devon's shores, where Devon's lord
Waves o'er the prostrate Dane the British sword.
Freedom might yet revisit Britain's coast,
Did Alfred live to lead her victor host."
The Task: Book II. -- The Time-Piece
© William Cowper
In man or woman, but far most in man,
And most of all in man that ministers
And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe
All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn;
Object of my implacable disgust.
Introduction And Conclusion Of A Long Poem
© Alan Seeger
I have gone sometimes by the gates of Death
And stood beside the cavern through whose doors
A Little Boy in the Morning
© Francis Ledwidge
He will not come, and still I wait.
He whistles at another gate
Where angels listen. Ah I know
He will not come, yet if I go
How shall I know he did not pass
barefooted in the flowery grass?
