Morning poems
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Somebody Spoke A Cheering Word
© Edgar Albert Guest
SOMEBODY spoke a cheering word,
Somebody praised his labor,
Sweet are His ways who rules above
© Jean Ingelow
Sweet are His ways who rules above,
He gives from wrath a sheltering place;
But covert none is found from grace,
Man shall not hide himself from love.
The Starlings
© Charles Kingsley
Early in spring time, on raw and windy mornings,
Beneath the freezing house-eaves I heard the starlings sing-
'Ah dreary March month, is this then a time for building wearily?
Sad, sad, to think that the year is but begun.'
The Queen
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
From out the glow, from out the flame, from ruin fierce and wild,
I saw her come with dancing feet and glad face like a child,
Her red-gold hair, her snow-white brow, her gown of silken green
Out through the ruins of her home, she walked as would a queen.
Ni Houlihan, Ni Houlihan, she came a splendid queen.
The Woman Who Collects Noah's Arks by Janet McCann: American Life in Poetry #15 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poe
© Ted Kooser
Many of us are collectors, attaching special meaning to the inanimate objects we acquire. Here, Texas poet Janet McCann gives us insight into the significance of one woman's collection. The abundance and variety of detail suggest the clutter of such a life.
The Woman Who Collects Noah's Arks
A Room In The Villa Taverna
© Frances Anne Kemble
Three windows cheerfully poured in the light:
One from the east, where o'er the Sabine hills
Book Third [Residence at Cambridge]
© William Wordsworth
IT was a dreary morning when the wheels
Rolled over a wide plain o'erhung with clouds,
And nothing cheered our way till first we saw
The long-roofed chapel of King's College lift
Turrets and pinnacles in answering files,
Extended high above a dusky grove.
The Secret
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
WHAT says the wind to the waving trees?
What says the wave to the river?
All here
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
IT is not what we say or sing,
That keeps our charm so long unbroken,
Maud
© Alfred Tennyson
Come into the garden, Maud,
For the black bat, Night, has flown,
Come into the garden, Maud,
I am here at the gate alone;
And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,
And the musk of the roses blown.
Truth
© William Cowper
Man, on the dubious waves of error toss'd,
His ship half founder'd, and his compass lost,
Metamorphoses: Book The Fifth
© Ovid
The End of the Fifth Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
The Corduroy Road
© William Henry Drummond
De corduroy road go bompety bomp,
De corduroy road go jompety jomp,
An' he' s takin'beeg chances upset hees load
De horse dat 'll trot on de corduroy road.
Beach Burial with German Translation
© Kenneth Slessor
Softly and humbly to the Gulf of Arabs
The convoys of dead sailors come;
At night they sway and wander in the waters far under,
But morning rolls them in the foam.
October
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
IT is no joy to me to sit
On dreamy summer eves,
When silently the timid moon
Kisses the sleeping leaves,
The Saint And The Hunchback
© William Butler Yeats
Hunchback. Stand up and lift your hand and bless
A man that finds great bitterness
In thinking of his lost renown.
A Roman Caesar is held down
Under this hump.
An Ode For The Fourth Of July
© James Russell Lowell
Entranced I saw a vision in the cloud
That loitered dreaming in yon sunset sky,
To The Town Clock
© Joseph Howe
Thou grave old Time Piece, many a time and oft
I've been your debtor for the time of day;
And every time I cast my eyes aloft,
And swell the debt-I think 'tis time to pay.
Liberty
© James Whitcomb Riley
or a hundred years the pulse of time
Has throbbed for Liberty;
For a hundred years the grand old clime
Columbia has been free;
For a hundred years our country's love,
The Stars and Stripes, has waved above.
