Morning poems

 / page 194 of 310 /
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Repining

© Christina Georgina Rossetti

She sat alway thro' the long day
Spinning the weary thread away;
And ever said in undertone:
'Come, that I be no more alone.'

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I Explain A Few Things

© Pablo Neruda

You are going to ask: and where are the lilacs?
and the poppy-petalled metaphysics?
and the rain repeatedly spattering
its words and drilling them full
of apertures and birds?
I'll tell you all the news.

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The Maid Of Jerusalem

© John Clare

Maid of Jerusalem, by the Dead Sea,
I wandered all sorrowing thinking of thee,--
Thy city in ruins, thy kindred deplored,
All fallen and lost by the Ottoman's sword.

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The Old Squire

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

I like the hunting of the hare
Better than that of the fox;
I like the joyous morning air,
And the crowing of the cocks.

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Pauline

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

To die for what we love! Oh! there is power
In the true heart, and pride, and joy, for this;
It is to live without the vanish'd light
That strength is needed.  -Anon

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A Fable

© William Cowper

A raven, while with glossy breast

Her new-laid eggs she fondly press'd,

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Time

© James Whitcomb Riley

1

The ticking-- ticking-- ticking of the clock--!

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Reflection

© Edgar Albert Guest

You have given me riches and ease,

You have given me joys through the years,

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The Farmer's Boy - Summer

© Robert Bloomfield

Here, midst the boldest triumphs of her worth,
NATURE herself invites the REAPERS forth;
Dares the keen sickle from its twelvemonth's rest,
And gives that ardour which in every breast
From infancy to age alike appears,
When the first sheaf its plumy top uprears.

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Clarence

© Sheldon Allan Silverstein

Clarence Lee from Tennessee
Loved the commercials he saw on TV.
He watched with wide believing eyes
And bought everything they advertised --

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The Colonel's Soliloquy

© Thomas Hardy

"The quay recedes.   Hurrah!  Ahead we go! . . .
It's true I've been accustomed now to home,
And joints get rusty, and one's limbs may grow
  More fit to rest than roam.

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Edwin and Eltruda, a Legendary Tale

© Helen Maria Williams

Where the pure Derwent's waters glide
  Along their mossy bed,
Close by the river's verdant side,
  A castle rear'd its head.

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Tale XIII

© George Crabbe

hall,
Sires, sons, and sons of sons, were buried all,
She then abounded, and had wealth to spare
For softening grief she once was doom'd to share;
Thus train'd in misery's school, and taught to

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HMS Pinafore: Act I

© William Schwenck Gilbert


SCENE - Quarter-deck of H.M.S. Pinafore.  Sailors, led by
  Boatswain, discovered cleaning brasswork, splicing rope, etc.

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The Chapel of the Hermits

© John Greenleaf Whittier

"I do believe, and yet, in grief,
I pray for help to unbelief;
For needful strength aside to lay
The daily cumberings of my way.

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To Lucy, Countess of Bedford, with John Donne's Satires

© Benjamin Jonson

Lucy, you brightness of our sphere, who are

 Life of the Muses' day, their morning star!

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Bell Birds

© Henry Kendall


By channels of coolness the echoes are calling,

And down the dim gorges I hear the creek falling;

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Within and Without: Part III: A Dramatic Poem

© George MacDonald

SCENE I.-Night. London. A large meanly furnished room; a single
candle on the table; a child asleep in a little crib. JULIAN
sits by the table, reading in a low voice out of a book. He looks
older, and his hair is lined with grey; his eyes look clearer.

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Mazeppa

© George Gordon Byron

'Twas after dread Pultowa's day,
  When fortune left the royal Swede--
Around a slaughtered army lay,
  No more to combat and to bleed.

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To Mr. Murray

© George Gordon Byron

To hook the reader, you, John Murray,
  Have publish'd 'Anjou's Margaret,
Which won't be sold off in a hurry
  (At least, it has not been as yet);