Morning poems

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Forward Ho!

© Charles Harpur

Forward ho! Forward ho! Soldiers of liberty,

Hope on; fight on; till mans whole race shall be

THERE was a child went forth every day;
And the first object he look'd upon, that object he became;
And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain part of
the day, or for many years, or stretching cycles of years.

Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee

© Henry Van Dyke

Joyful, joyful we adore Thee, God of glory, Lord of love,
Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee, hail Thee as the sun above.
Melt the clouds of sin and sadness, drive the dark of doubt away;
Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day.

Second Love

© Henry Timrod

Could I reveal the secret joy
Thy presence always with it brings,
The memories so strangely waked
Of long forgotten things,

An April Fool

© Alfred Austin

I sallied afield when the bud first swells,
And the sun first slanteth hotly,
And I came on a yokel in cap and bells,
And a suit of saffron motley.

Retreat

© John Fuller

I should like to live in a sunny town like this
Where every afternoon is half-day closing
And I would wait at the terminal for the one train
Of the day, pacing the platform, and no one arriving.

For My Daughter

© Weldon Kees

Looking into my daughter’s eyes I read

Beneath the innocence of morning flesh

Schemhammphorasch

© Rose Terry Cooke

‘This is the key which was given by the angel Michael to Pali, and by Pali to Moses. If “thou canst read it, then shalt thou understand the words of men, … the whistling of birds, the language of date-trees, the unity of hearts, ... nay, even the thoughts of the rains.”’
Gleanings after the Talmud

A private public space

© Richard Jones

to your party and they don’t come,
they’re too busy tending vaginal
flowers, hating football, walking their golden
and chocolate labs. X gave me a poem

The Sparrow's Fall

© Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

And lifted the gloomy shadows
That overspread my life,
And flooding my home with gladness,
Made me a happy wife.

To Sir George Howland Beaumont, Bart From the South-West Coast Or Cumberland 1811

© William Wordsworth

FAR from our home by Grasmere's quiet Lake,
From the Vale's peace which all her fields partake,
Here on the bleakest point of Cumbria's shore
We sojourn stunned by Ocean's ceaseless roar;

Birth Story -- English Translation

© Rabindranath Tagore

The kid asks his mum,

From where did I come,

Interrupted Meditation

© Robert Hass

Little green involute fronds of fern at creekside.

And the sinewy clear water rushing over creekstone

The Baptistry

© Ada Cambridge

One winter eve, at twilight, when the sound
Of sorrowful winds scarce troubled Nature's rest,
As she lay sleeping, with her hair unbound,
Holding her grey robe to her shivering breast,

The Weather-Prophet

A Fable.
"WHAT can the matter be with the thermometer?
Is it the sun or the moon or the comet, or
Something broke loose in the old earth's pedometer?"

Monte Cassino. Terra Di Lavoro. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fourth)

Beautiful valley! through whose verdant meads
Unheard the Garigliano glides along;--
The Liris, nurse of rushes and of reeds,
The river taciturn of classic song.

The Mariner's Cave

© Jean Ingelow

Once on a time there walked a mariner,
That had been shipwrecked;-on a lonely shore,
And the green water made a restless stir,
And a great flock of mews sped on before.
He had nor food nor shelter, for the tide
Rose on the one, and cliffs on the other side.

Cyprus Brig

© Anonymous

Poor Tom Brown from Nottingham, Jack Williams and poor Joe
They were three gallant poacher boys their country well does know
And by the laws of the Game Act that you may understand
Were fourteen years transported boys unto Van Diemen's Land