Morning poems

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The Dragon of the Black Pool

© Bai Juyi

Deep the waters of the Black Pool, colored like ink;

They say a Holy Dragon lives there, whom men have never seen.

Spring

© Lord Alfred Douglas

Wake up again, sad heart, wake up again !
(I heard the birds this morning singing sweet.)
Wake up again ! The sky was crystal clear,
And washed quite clean with rain ;

Hippodromania; Or, Whiffs From The Pipe

A monk sips morning tea

© Matsuo Basho

A monk sips morning tea,
it's quiet,
the chrysanthemum's flowering.

Paradise Lost : Book XI.

© John Milton

Thus they, in lowliest plight, repentant stood

Praying; for from the mercy-seat above

A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - April

© George MacDonald

1.

LORD, I do choose the higher than my will.

A proper trewe idyll of camelot

Whenas ye plaisaunt Aperille shoures have washed and purged awaye
Ye poysons and ye rheums of earth to make a merrie May,
Ye shraddy boscage of ye woods ben full of birds that syng
Right merrilie a madrigal unto ye waking spring,
Ye whiles that when ye face of earth ben washed and wiped ycleane
Her peeping posies blink and stare like they had ben her een;

A piteous plaint

© Eugene Field

I cannot eat my porridge,
I weary of my play;
No longer can I sleep at night,
No longer romp by day!

Deola's Return

© Cesare Pavese

I'll turn round in the street and look at the passers-by,

I'll be a passer-by myself. I'll learn

The Tragedy

© Henry Lawson

Oh, I never felt so wretched, and things never looked so blue
Since the days I gulped the physic that my Granny used to brew;
For a friend in whom I trusted, entering my room last night,
Stole a bottleful of Heenzo from the desk whereon I write.

The Cricket

© Edwin Markham

Faintly the light breaks over the blowing oats
Sleep, little brother, sleep: I am astir.
We worship Song, and servants are of her
I in the bright hours, thou in shadow-time:
Lead thou the starlit night with merry notes,
And I will lead the clamoring day with rhyme.

Rip Van Winkle. Canto II.

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

So Rip began to look at peopleâs tongues
And thump their briskets (called it âsound their lungs"),
Brushed up his knowledge smartly as he could,
Read in old Cullen and in Doctor Good.
The town was healthy; for a month or two
He gave the sexton little work to do.

The Coming Of Arthur

© Alfred Tennyson

Leodogran, the King of Cameliard,
Had one fair daughter, and none other child;
And she was the fairest of all flesh on earth,
Guinevere, and in her his one delight.

Song

© Hilaire Belloc

Inviting the influence of a young lady upon the opening yearYou wear the morning like your dress
And are with mastery crownd;
When as you walk your loveliness
Goes shining all around:

September

And fading still, and pointing to their scars,
They fled in lessening clouds, where gray and high
Dawn lay along the heaven in misty bars;
But watching from that eastern casement, I
Saw the Republic splendid in the sky,
And round her terrible head the morning stars.

October

Mine host the month, at thy good hostelry,
Tired limbs I'll stretch and steaming beast I'll tether;
Pile on great logs with Gascon hand and free,
And pour the Gascon stuff that laughs at weather;
Swell your tough lungs, north wind, no whit care we,
Singing old songs and drinking wine together.

Boris Godunov

Boyars, The People, Inspectors, Officers, Attendants, Guests,
a Boy in attendance on Prince Shuisky, a Catholic Priest, a
Polish Noble, a Poet, an Idiot, a Beggar, Gentlemen, Peasants,
Guards, Russian, Polish, and German Soldiers, a Russian
Prisoner of War, Boys, an old Woman, Ladies, Serving-women.

Balin and Balan

Then Balan added to their Order lived
A wealthier life than heretofore with these
And Balin, till their embassage returned.

Heroic Poem in Praise of Wine

But since I would not, since I could not stay,
Let me remember even in this my day
How, when the ephemeral vision's lure is past
All, all, must face their Passion at the last