Morning poems
/ page 143 of 310 /
Winged Man
© Stephen Vincent Benet
The moon, a sweeping scimitar, dipped in the stormy straits,
The dawn, a crimson cataract, burst through the eastern gates,
The cliffs were robed in scarlet, the sands were cinnabar,
Where first two men spread wings for flight and dared the hawk afar.
Benedetta Minelli
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
IT is near morning. Ere the next night fall
I shall be made the bride of heaven. Then home
To my still marriage chamber I shall come,
And spouseless, childless, watch the slow years crawl.
The Loss Of Female Character
© George Moses Horton
See that fallen Princess! her splendor is gone--
The pomp of her morning is over;
Her day-star of pleasure refuses to dawn,
She wanders a nocturnal rover.
The Drug-Shop, or, Endymion in Edmonstoun
© Stephen Vincent Benet
No herbage broke the barren flats of land,
No winds dared loiter within smiling trees,
Nor were there any brooks on either hand,
Only the dry, bright sand,
Naked and golden, lay before the seas.
May Morning
© Stephen Vincent Benet
This is the time of all-sufficing laughter
At idiotic things some one has done,
And there is neither past nor vague hereafter.
And all your body stretches in the sun
And drinks the light in like a liquid thing;
Filled with the divine languor of late spring.
Morning Land
© George Essex Evans
Around and beneath, the dull grey mist and the sullen roar of the sea,
Scant footing-place on the sheer cliffs facewith death for a penalty;
But afar and above there is rest and love, there is hope for brain and hand,
The valleys fair and the crystal air and the peaks of Morning Land.
Written In Early Youth. The Time,--An Autumnal Evening
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Scenes of my hope! the aching eye ye leave
Like yon bright hues that paint the clouds of eve!
Tearful and sadd'ning with the saddened blaze
Mine eye the gleam pursues with wistful gaze;
Sees shades on shades with deeper tint impend,
Till chill and damp the moonless night descend.
Preparatory Meditations - Second Series: 143
© Edward Taylor
Wonders amazed! Am I espoused to Thee?
My glorious Lord? What! Shall my bit of clay
Be made more bright than brightest angels be,
Look forth like as the morning every way?
And shall my lump of dirts wear such attire?
Rise up in heavenly ornaments thus, higher?
Epitaph on her Son H. P.
© Katherine Philips
WHat on Earth deserves our trust ?
Youth and Beauty both are dust.
Long we gathering are with pain,
What one moment calls again.
Unshriven
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
Oh! the sun rose on the lea, and the bird sang merrilie,
And the steed stood ready harness'd in the hall,
And he left his lady's bower, and he sought the eastern tower,
And he lifted cloak and weapon from the wall.
L'Avenir
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
I saw the human millions as the sand
Unruffled on the starlit wilderness.
The Twenty Hoss-Power Shay
© Ellis Parker Butler
Wonderful vehicle, youll admit,
With not one flaw in the whole of it;
As long as I had it, I declare
I hadnt one cent to pay for repair,
It couldnt break down because, you see,
It was such a logical symphony.
The Vanity Of Human Wishes
© Michael Wigglesworth
I walk'd and did a little Mole-hill view
Full peopled with a most industrious crew
Exile
© Conrad Aiken
Bring water with you if you come to live here
Cold tinkling cisterns, or else wells so deep
That one looks down to Ganges or Himalayas.
Yes, and bring mountains with you, white, moon-bearing,
Mountains of ice. You will have need of these
Profundities and peaks of wet and cold.
When The Dressmaker Comes
© Edgar Albert Guest
WHEN the dressmaker comes I am told to clear out,
For they don't want me anywhere hanging about;
Sunbeam
© Anna Akhmatova
I pray to the sunbeam from the window -
It is pale, thin, straight.
Since morning I have been silent,
And my heart - is split.
Love And A Day
© Madison Julius Cawein
In girandoles of gladioles
The day had kindled flame;
And Heaven a door of gold and pearl
Unclosed when Morning,--like a girl,
A red rose twisted in a curl,--
Down sapphire stairways came.
Under Siege
© Mahmoud Darwish
Here on the slopes of hills, facing the dusk and the cannon of time
Close to the gardens of broken shadows,
We do what prisoners do,
And what the jobless do:
We cultivate hope.
