Morning poems
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English Eclogues I - The Old Mansion-House
© Robert Southey
STRANGER.
Old friend! why you seem bent on parish duty,
Breaking the highway stones,--and 'tis a task
Somewhat too hard methinks for age like yours.
Should You Wish To Know The Source
© Hayyim Nahman Bialik
Should you wish to know the Source,
From which your brothers drew…
Their strength of soul…
Their comfort, courage, patience, trust,
And iron might to bear their hardships
And suffer without end or measure?
Hymns to the Night : 5
© Novalis
In ancient times, over the widespread families of men an iron Fate ruled with dumb force. A gloomy oppression swathed their heavy souls - the earth was boundless - the abode of the gods and their home. From eternal ages stood its mysterious structure. Beyond the red hills of the morning, in the sacred bosom of the sea, dwelt the sun, the all-enkindling, living Light. An aged giant upbore the blissful world. Fast beneath mountains lay the first-born sons of mother Earth. Helpless in their destroying fury against the new, glorious race of gods, and their kindred, glad-hearted men. The ocean's dark green abyss was the lap of a goddess. In crystal grottos revelled a luxuriant folk. Rivers, trees, flowers, and beasts had human wits. Sweeter tasted the wine - poured out by Youth-abundance - a god in the grape-clusters - a loving, motherly goddess upgrew in the full golden sheaves - love's sacred inebriation was a sweet worship of the fairest of the god-ladies - Life rustled through the centuries like one spring-time, an ever-variegated festival of heaven-children and earth-dwellers. All races childlike adored the ethereal, thousand-fold flame as the one sublimest thing in the world. There was but one notion, a horrible dream-shape -
That fearsome to the merry tables strode,
Morning Hymn
© Charles Wesley
Christ, whose glory fills the skies,
Christ, the true, the only light,
Sun of Righteousness, arise,
Triumph oer the shades of night:
Day-spring from on high, be near:
Day-star, in my heart appear.
Attainment
© Madison Julius Cawein
ON the Heights of Great Endeavour,
Where Attainment looms forever,
Proem
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I LOVE the old melodious lays
Which softly melt the ages through,
The songs of Spensers golden days,
Arcadian Sidneys silvery phrase,
Sprinkling our noon of time with freshest morning dew.
Resolution and Independence
© André Breton
There was a roaring in the wind all night;
The rain came heavily and fell in floods;
Aileen
© Henry Kendall
A splendid sun betwixt the trees
Long spikes of flame did shoot,
When turning to the fragrant South,
With longing eyes and burning mouth,
I stretched a hand athwart the drouth,
And plucked at cooling fruit.
With Emma at the Ladies-Only Swimming Pond on Hampstead Heath
© Michael Rosen
In payment for those mornings at the mirror while,
at her
expense, I’d started my late learning in Applied
An Extraordinary Morning
© Philip Levine
Two young men—you just might call them boys—
waiting for the Woodward streetcar to get
The Rhyme of Joyous Garde
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
Through the lattice rushes the south wind, dense
With fumes of the flowery frankincense
From hawthorn blossoming thickly;
And gold is shower'd on grass unshorn,
For Emily Wilson
© Archie Randolph Ammons
Such a long time as the wave idling gathers
lofts and presses forward into the curvature
of the height before one realizes that the
When on the Marge of Evening
© Louise Imogen Guiney
When on the marge of evening the last blue light is broken,
And winds of dreamy odour are loosened from afar,
Or when my lattice opens, before the lark hath spoken,
On dim laburnum-blossoms, and morning’s dying star,
My Last Afternoon with Uncle Devereux Winslow
© Robert Lowell
a black pile and a white pile....
Come winter,
Uncle Devereux would blend to the one color.
The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto IV.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
III Compensation
That nothing here may want its praise,
Know, she who in her dress reveals
A fine and modest taste, displays
More loveliness than she conceals.
