Morning poems
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London Snow
© John Hall Wheelock
When men were all asleep the snow came flying,
In large white flakes falling on the city brown,
The Habitants Summer
© William Henry Drummond
O, who can blame de winter, never min'
de hard he 's blowin'
Vernal Ode
© William Wordsworth
I
BENEATH the concave of an April sky,
When all the fields with freshest green were dight,
Appeared, in presence of the spiritual eye
From Violence to Peace
© James Russell Lowell
Twenty-eight shotgun pellets
crater my thighs, belly and groin.
I gently thumb each burnt bead,
fingering scabbed stubs with ointment.
Immigrant Blues
© Li-Young Lee
People have been trying to kill me since I was born,
a man tells his son, trying to explain
the wisdom of learning a second tongue.
"Give me October's meditative haze"
© Alfred Austin
Give me October's meditative haze,
Its gossamer mornings, dewy-wimpled eves,
Rivers Of Canada
© Bliss William Carman
O all the little rivers that run to Hudson's Bay,
They call me and call me to follow them away.
Missinaibi, Abitibi, Little Current-whe re they run
Dancing and sparkling I see them in the sun.
Sonnet 132: "Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,..."
© William Shakespeare
Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,
Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain,
Ormuzd And Ahriman. Part II
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
Fear not, for ye shall live if ye receive
The life divine, obedient to the law
Of truth and good. So shall there be no frown
Upon his face who wills the good of all.
Confiteor
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
The shore-boat lies in the morning light,
By the good ship ready for sailing;
Sonnet XXXIII: Full many a Glorious Morning have I Seen
© William Shakespeare
Full many a glorious morning have I seen
Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,
The Evening Of The Year
© Mathilde Blind
The grief of many partings near
Wails like an echo in the wind:
The days of love lie far behind,
The days of loss lie shuddering near.
Life's morning-glory who shall bind?
It is the evening of the year.
What the Rattlesnake Said
© Roald Dahl
The Moon's a little prairie-dog.
He shivers through the night.
He sits upon his hill and cries
For fear that I will bite.
