Morning poems
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All Things will Die
© Alfred Tennyson
Over the sky.
One after another the white clouds are fleeting;
Every heart this May morning in joyance is beating
Twenty-First Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
The morning mist is cleared away,
Yet still the face of Heaven is grey,
Nor yet this autumnal breeze has stirred the grove,
Faded yet full, a paler green
Skirts soberly the tranquil scene,
The red-breast warbles round this leafy cove.
A Dubious "Old Kriss"
© James Whitcomb Riley
Us-folks is purty _pore_--but Ma
She's waitin'--two years more--tel Pa
He serve his term out. Our Pa he--
_He's in the Penitenchurrie_!
Lines On A Friend, Who Died Of A Frenzy Fever, Induced By Calumnious Reports
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Rest, injured shade! the poor man's grateful prayer
On heaven-ward wing thy wounded soul shall bear.
As oft at twilight gloom thy grave I pass,
And oft sit down upon its recent grass,
With introverted eye I contemplate
Similitude of soul, perhaps of -- fate!
HMS Pinafore: Act II
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Same Scene. Night. Awning removed. Moonlight. Captain
discovered singing on poop deck, and accompanying himself on
a mandolin. Little Buttercup seated on quarterdeck, gazing
sentimentally at him.
The World-Soul
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
Still, still the secret presses,
The nearing clouds draw down,
The crimson morning flames into
The fopperies of the town.
Within, without, the idle earth
Stars weave eternal rings,
When the Evening Star Went Down
© Henry Clay Work
They sleep in a fathomless grave,
The guest and the mariner brave;
They pillow their heads on coral beds,
Beneath the blue ocean waves,
Beneath the blue ocean waves.
All The World's A Stage
© William Shakespeare
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
Mild the mist upon the hill
© Emily Jane Brontë
Mild the mist upon the hill
Telling not of storms tomorrow;
No, the day has wept its fill,
Spent its store of silent sorrow.
The Wonder-Working Magician - Act I
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
TO THE MEMORY OF
SHELLEY,
WHOSE ADMIRATION FOR
"THE LIGHT AND ODOUR OF THE FLOWERY AND STARRY AUTOS"
IS THE HIGHEST TRIBUTE TO THE BEAUTY OF
CALDERON'S POETRY,
The Lady Of La Garaye - Part II
© Caroline Norton
A FIRST walk after sickness: the sweet breeze
That murmurs welcome in the bending trees,
When the cold shadowy foe of life departs,
And the warm blood flows freely through our hearts:
Hymn VIII. When Jesus, by the Virgin brought
© John Logan
When Jesus, by the Virgin brought,
So runs the law of Heaven,
Was offer'd holy to the Lord,
And at the altar given;
From the Somme
© Leslie Coulson
In other days I sang of simple things,
Of summer dawn, and summer noon and night,
The dewy grass, the dew wet fairy rings,
The larks long golden flight.
In The Valley
© Henry Kendall
Said the yellow-haired Spirit of Spring
To the white-footed Spirit of Snow,
Mountaineer-Song
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Deep in a glen, retir'd and green,
How sweetly smiles my native cot;
Where peace, and joy, and love serene,
Have sanctified the tranquil spot!
Dan's Wife
© Anonymous
Up in early morning light,
Sweeping, dusting, "setting right,"
Oiling all the household springs,
Sewing buttons, tying strings,
Working People
© Arthur Rimbaud
O that warm February morning!
The untimely south came
to stir up our absurd paupers' memories,
our young distress.
King Billy's Skull.
© James Brunton Stephens
THE scene is the Southern Hemisphere;
The time oh, any time of the year
The Cap And Bells
© William Butler Yeats
THE jester walked in the garden:
The garden had fallen still;
