Morning poems
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A Rhapsody of a Southern Winter Night
© Henry Timrod
Oh! dost thou flatter falsely, Hope?
The day hath scarcely passed that saw thy birth,
On the Death of Richard West
© Thomas Gray
In vain to me the smiling Mornings shine,
And reddening Phbus lifts his golden fire;
When Your Sins Come Home to Roost
© Henry Lawson
When you fear the barbers mirror when you go to get a crop,
Or in sorrow every morning comb your hair across the top:
When you titivate and do the little things you never used
It is close upon the season when your sins come home to roost.
A Song Of The Forest
© Alma Frances McCollum
The Legend of Love-Sick Lake
WHEN you wander alone through the forest
The Two Bears
© Carolyn Wells
Prince Curlilocks remarked one day
To Princess Dimplecheek,
"I haven't had a real good play
For more than 'most a week."
Ancestral
© Archibald MacLeish
slow hooves and dripping with the dark
The velvet muzzles, the white feet that move
In a dream water
and O soon now soon
Sleep and the night.
Paradise Lost: Book IV
© Patrick Kavanagh
"Which of those rebel Spirits adjudg'd to Hell
Com'st thou, escap'd thy prison? and, transform'd,
Why satt'st thou like an enemy in wait,
Here watching at the head of these that sleep?"
The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveller hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Morning
© Sara Teasdale
I went out on an April morning
All alone, for my heart was high,
I was a child of the shining meadow,
I was a sister of the sky.
Elegy for a Soldier
© Marilyn Hacker
You, who stood alone in the tall bay window
of a Brooklyn brownstone, conjuring morning
with free-flying words, knew the power, terror
in words, in flying;
The Wood-Cutter's Night Song
© John Clare
Welcome, red and roundy sun,
Dropping lowly in the west;
Now my hard day's work is done,
I'm as happy as the best.
February
© Margaret Atwood
Winter. Time to eat fat
and watch hockey. In the pewter mornings, the cat,
Marenghi
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
II.
A massy tower yet overhangs the town,
A scattered group of ruined dwellings now...
Hymn to Life
© James Schuyler
The wind rests its cheek upon the ground and feels the cool damp
And lifts its head with twigs and small dead blades of grass
Poems - Written On The Deaths Of Three Lovely Children
© Jean Ingelow
Yellow leaves, how fast they flutter-woodland hollows thickly strewing,
Where the wan October sunbeams scantly in the mid-day win,
While the dim gray clouds are drifting, and in saddened hues imbuing
All without and all within!
Fears In Solitude. Written In April, 1798, During The Alarm Of An Invasion
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
A green and silent spot, amid the hills,
A small and silent dell! O'er stiller place
No singing sky-lark ever poised himself.
The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope,
Eagle Affirmation
© John Kinsella
You’ve got to understand that sighting the pair
of eagles over the block, right over our house,
