Morning poems
/ page 160 of 310 /Bahaman
© Bliss William Carman
To T. B. M.
IN the crowd that thronged the pierhead, come to see their friends take ship
Misery and Splendor
© Robert Hass
Summoned by conscious recollection, she
would be smiling, they might be in a kitchen talking,
When Mother Cooked With Wood
© Edgar Albert Guest
I do not quarrel with the gas,
Our modern range is fine,
Special Treatments Ward
© Dana Gioia
I put this poem aside twelve years ago
because I could not bear remembering
the faces it evoked, and every line
seemed—still seems—so inadequate and grim.
A Man Who Would Woo a Fair Maid
© William Schwenck Gilbert
A man who would woo a fair maid,
Should 'prentice himself to the trade;
A Lecture upon the Shadow
© John Donne
Stand still, and I will read to thee
A lecture, love, in love's philosophy.
The Broken Crutch: A Tale
© Robert Bloomfield
A burst of laughter rang throughout the hall,
And Peggy's tongue, though overborne by all,
Pour'd its warm blessings, for, without control
The sweet unbridled transport of her soul
Was obviously seen, till Herbert's kiss
Stole, as it were, the eloquence of bliss.
The Night Before The Mowing
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
ALL shimmering in the morning shine
And diamonded with dew,
And quivering in the scented wind
That thrills its green heart through,--
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 72
© Alfred Tennyson
Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again,
And howlest, issuing out of night,
With blasts that blow the poplar white,
And lash with storm the streaming pane?
Fragments Written For Hellas
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Fairest of the Destinies,
Disarray thy dazzling eyes:
Keener far thy lightnings are
Replica
© Marvin Bell
The fake Parthenon in Nashville, Stonehenge reduced by a quarter
near Maryhill on the Columbia, the little Statue of Liberty
Mutation
© William Cullen Bryant
They talk of short-lived pleasure–be it so–
Pain dies as quickly: stern, hard-featured pain
Sonnet L: Beauty, Sweet Love
© Samuel Daniel
Beauty, sweet love, is like the morning dew
Whose short refresh upon the tender green
Count GismondAix in Provence
© Robert Browning
Christ God who savest man, save most
Of men Count Gismond who saved me!
Count Gauthier, when he chose his post,
Chose time and place and company
To suit it; when he struck at length
My honour, 't was with all his strength.