Morning poems

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I WANDER all night in my vision,
Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noiselessly stepping and
stopping,
Bending with open eyes over the shut eyes of sleepers,
Wandering and confused, lost to myself, ill-assorted, contradictory,
Pausing, gazing, bending, and stopping.

Now The Lilac Trees In Bud

© Bliss William Carman

NOW the lilac tree's in bud,
And the morning birds are loud.
Now a stirring in the blood
Moves the heart of every crowd.

The Lion For Real

© Allen Ginsberg

I came home and found a lion in my living room
Rushed out on the fire escape screaming Lion! Lion!
Two stenographers pulled their brunnette hair and banged the window shut
I hurried home to Patterson and stayed two days

A Poem. For the AMA at New York, 1853

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

FOR THE MEETING OF THE AMERICAN MEDICAL ASSOCIATION

AT NEW YORK, MAY 5, 1853

On The Pilots Who Destroyed Germany In The Spring Of 1945

© Stephen Spender

I stood on a roof top and they wove their cage
Their murmuring throbbing cage, in the air of blue crystal.
I saw them gleam above the town like diamond bolts
Conjoining invisible struts of wire,
Carrying through the sky their geometric cage
Woven by senses delicate as a shoal of flashing fish.

Intaglio - Frank Denz

© Henry Kendall

Oh, women and men who have known the perils of weather and wave,
It is sad that my sweet ones are blown under sea without shelter of grave;
I sob like a child in the night, when the gale on the waters is loud
My darlings went down in my sight, with neither a coffin nor shroud.

Written In A Country Churchyard

© John Kenyon

Oh! how I hate the cumbrous pride

Of plume and pall and scutcheon'd hearse,

The Children Of The Lord's Supper. (From The Swedish Of Bishop Tegner)

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Closed was the Teacher's task, and with heaven in their hearts and their faces,
Up rose the children all, and each bowed him, weeping full sorely,
Downward to kiss that reverend hand, but all of them pressed he
Moved to his bosom, and laid, with a prayer, his hands full of blessings,
Now on the holy breast, and now on the innocent tresses.

On The Death Of Canon Kingsley

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

MORTALS there are who seem, all over, flame,
Vitalized radiance, keen, intense, and high,
Whose souls, like planets in it dominant sky,
Burn with full forces of eternity:

Pentucket

© John Greenleaf Whittier

Quiet and calm without a fear,
Of danger darkly lurking near,
The weary laborer left his plough,
The milkmaid carolled by her cow;
From cottage door and household hearth
Rose songs of praise, or tones of mirth.

Sordello: Book the First

© Robert Browning

TO J. MILSAND, OF DIJON.

1840.

The Church-Porch. Perirrhanterium

Thou, whose sweet youth and early hopes inhance
Thy rate and price, and mark thee for a treasure,
Hearken unto a Vesper, who may chance
Ryme thee to good, and make a bait of pleasure:
A verse may finde him who a sermon flies,
And turn delight into a sacrifice.

Centennial

© John Hay

A hundred times the bells of Brown
Have rung to sleep the idle summers,
And still to-day clangs clamoring down
A greeting to the welcome comers.

Tragedy

© Harry Graham

That morning, when my wife eloped
With James, our chauffeur, how I moped!
What tragedies in life there are!
I'm dashed if I can start the car.

The Columbiad: Book IV

© Joel Barlow

Yet must we mark, the bondage of the mind
Spreads deeper glooms, and subj ugates mankind;
The zealots fierce, whom local creeds enrage,
In holy feuds perpetual combat wage,
Support all crimes by full indulgence given,
Usurp the power and wield the sword of heaven,