Morning poems
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A Pastoral Dialogue Between Two Shepherdesses
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
[Dorinda] No! my Chaplet wou'd decay;
Ev'ry drooping Flow'r wou'd mourn,
And wrong the Face, they shou'd adorn.
Woodchucks
© Maxine Kumin
Gassing the woodchucks didn't turn out right.
The knockout bomb from the Feed and Grain Exchange
was featured as merciful, quick at the bone
and the case we had against them was airtight,
both exits shoehorned shut with puddingstone,
but they had a sub-sub-basement out of range.
Hymn to the Sun
© Thomas Hood
Giver of glowing light!
Though but a god of other days,
The kings and sages
Of wiser ages
After Us
© Connie Wanek
I don't know if we're in the beginning
or in the final stage.
-- Tomas Tranströmer
Listen, Lord: A Prayer
© James Weldon Johnson
O Lord, we come this morning
Knee-bowed and body-bent
Before Thy throne of grace.
O Lord--this morning--
Go Down, Death
© James Weldon Johnson
And Jesus took his own hand and wiped away her tears,
And he smoothed the furrows from her face,
And the angels sang a little song,
And Jesus rocked her in his arms,
And kept a-saying: Take your rest,
Take your rest.
Lullaby
© Fenny Sterenborg
Softly lie down
and close your eyes so blue
worry no more
for tonight I'll watch over you
The Milkman
© Christopher Morley
EARLY in the morning, when the dawn is on the roofs,
You hear his wheels come rolling, you hear his horses hoofs;
You hear the bottles clinking, and then he drives away:
You yawn in bed, turn over, and begin another day!
Noises
© Fenny Sterenborg
I woke up this morning
with the city's noises
fusing into my dream
A pride of lions
Name of a Tree
© Catherine Anderson
Some days I am Ana's teacher, some days she is mine.
This morning, we look through her kitchen window,
the one she can't get clean, cobwebs massed
between sash and pane. The sky is blue-gold, almost
Englands Openers
© Gerald England
Bare midrifs above belt-like skirts
Bedraggled daffodils line the lanes
Belladonna is unlucky
Beyond the wooded embankment home
Big Irma
Mid-december
© Gerald England
A full moon shines
over the morning frost;
the lanes are full of late-fallen leaves;
walking across the mulch
is almost as tricky
as treading over ice.
Mazeppa
© Lord 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.
The Siege of Corinth
© Lord Byron
Still the old man stood erect,
And Alp's career a moment check'd.
"Yield thee, Minotti; quarter take,
For thine own, thy daughter's sake."
Bride of Abydos, The
© Lord Byron
"Had we never loved so kindly,
Had we never loved so blindly,
Never met or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted." Burns
Morning Thoughts
© James Montgomery
What secret hand at morning light,
By stealth unseals mine eye,
Draws back the curtain of the night,
And opens earth and sky?
The Giaour
© Lord Byron
A Fragment of a Turkish TaleThe tale which these disjointed fragments present, is founded upon circumstances now less common in the East than formerly; either because the ladies are more circumspect than in the 'olden time', or because the Christians have better fortune, or less enterprise. The story, when entire, contained the adventures of a female slave, who was thrown, in the Mussulman manner, into the sea for infidelity, and avenged by a young Venetian, her lover, at the time the Seven Islands were possessed by the Republic of Venice, and soon after the Arnauts were beaten back from the Morea, which they had ravaged for some time subsequent to the Russian invasion. The desertion of the Mainotes on being refused the plunder of Misitra, led to the abandonment of that enterprise, and to the desolation of the Morea,during which the cruelty exercised on all sides was unparalleled even in the annals of the faithful.
No breath of air to break the wave
That rolls below the Athenian's grave,
That tomb which, gleaming o'er the cliff
Let's Drink to our next Meeting
© Hew Ainslie
Let's drink to our next meeting, lads,
Nor think on what's atwixt;
They're fools wha spoil the present hour
By thinking on the next.
The Bride of Abydos
© Lord Byron
"Had we never loved so kindly,
Had we never loved so blindly,
Never met or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted." Burns
