Morning poems
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Her Epitaph
© William Strode
Happy Grave, thou dost enshrine
That which makes thee a rich mine:
Remember yet, 'tis but a loane;
And wee must have it back, Her owne,
Moonlight
© John Kenyon
Not alway from the lessons of the schools,
Taught evermore by those who trust them not,
Hymn 102
© Isaac Watts
No, I'll repine at death no more,
But with a cheerful gasp resign
To the cold dungeon of the grave
These dying, with'ring limbs of mine.
The Fields Of Even
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
O STILLER than the fields that lie
Beneath the morning heaven,
And sweeter than day's gardens are
The purple fields of even!
The House Delirious
© Leon Gellert
These corridors! These corridors and halls!
This change of light and gathered mystery:
These whisperings; this silent dust that palls
The buried gone are mine-a solemn property.
Tangerine by Ruth L. Schwartz: American Life in Poetry #54 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Poet Ruth L. Schwartz writes of the glimpse of possibility, of something sweeter than we already have that comes to us, grows in us. The unrealizable part of it causes bitterness; the other opens outward, the cycle complete. This is both a poem about a tangerine and about more than that.
Tangerine
In Childhood
© Kimiko Hahn
things don't die or remain damaged
but return: stumps grow back hands,
a head reconnects to a neck,
a whole corpse rises blushing and newly elastic.
The Charm Of 5:30
© David Berman
We're within inches of the perfect distance from the sun,
the sky is blueberries and cream,
and the wind is as warm as air from a tire.
Even the headstones in the graveyard
Seem to stand up and say "Hello! My name is..."
Self-Portrait At 28
© David Berman
If squeezed for more information
I can remember old clock radios
with flipping metal numbers
and an entree called Surf and Turf.
The Patriot Engineer
© George Meredith
'Sirs! may I shake your hands?
My countrymen, I see!
I've lived in foreign lands
Till England's Heaven to me.
A hearty shake will do me good,
And freshen up my sluggish blood.'
Saul And David
© Anthony Evan Hecht
It was a villainous spirit, snub-nosed, foul
Of breath, thick-taloned and malevolent,
That squatted within him wheresoever he went
.......And possessed the soul of Saul.
A Hill
© Anthony Evan Hecht
In Italy, where this sort of thing can occur,
I had a vision once - though you understand
It was nothing at all like Dante's, or the visions of saints,
And perhaps not a vision at all. I was with some friends,
A Gallop From The Train
© William Henry Ogilvie
Though I can't afford a hunter -more's the pity,
I love a rousing gallop like the rest!-
Every morning as I travel to the city
I have five and forty minutes of the best.
The rank stench of those bodies haunts me still
© Siegfried Sassoon
The rank stench of those bodies haunts me still
And I remember things I'd best forget.
Distichs.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
WHO is the happiest of men? He who values the merits
of others,
And in their pleasure takes joy, even as though 'twere his own.
May.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
LIGHT and silv'ry cloudlets hoverIn the air, as yet scarce warm;
Mild, with glimmer soft tinged over,Peeps the sun through fragrant balm.
Gently rolls and heaves the oceanAs its waves the bank o'erflow.
And with ever restless motionMoves the verdure to and fro,Mirror'd brightly far below.What is now the foliage moving?Air is still, and hush'd the breeze,
Time And The Lady
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Haste, maiden, haste! the spray has come to budding,
The dawn creeps o'er the heavens gold and fair.
The Morning of Love
© Thomas Love Peacock
O! The spring-time of life is the season of blooming,
And the morning of love is the season of joy;
Two Sunsets
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
In the fair morning of his life,
When his pure heart lay in his breast,
Panting, with all that wild unrest
To plunge into the great world's strife
The Meeting Of The Dryads
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
IT was not many centuries since,
When, gathered on the moonlit green,
Beneath the Tree of Liberty,
A ring of weeping sprites was seen.
