Morning poems

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Peace

© Robert Laurence Binyon

I
Lovely word flying like a bird across the narrow seas,
When winter is over and songs are in the skies,
Peace, with the colour of the dawn upon the name of her,

In Memoriam 131: O Living Will That Shalt Endure

© Alfred Tennyson

O living will that shalt endure
When all that seems shall suffer shock,
Rise in the spiritual rock,
Flow thro' our deeds and make them pure,

The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto V.

© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore

III The Heart's Prophecies
Be not amazed at life; 'tis still
The mode of God with His elect
Their hopes exactly to fulfil,
In times and ways they least expect.

Fragments Of An Unfinished Drama

Will you walk with me to the brow of the hill, to visit the farmer's wife,
Whose daughter lies in the churchyard now, eased of the ache of life?
Half a mile by the winding lane, another half to the top:
There you may lean o'er the gate and rest; she will want me awhile to stop,
Stop and talk of her girl that is gone and no more will wake or weep,
Or to listen rather, for sorrow loves to babble its pain to sleep.

Late Came the God

© Rudyard Kipling

Late came the God, having sent his forerunners who were

not regarded-

Where Home Was

© Augusta Davies Webster

'TWAS yesterday; 'twas long ago:

And for this flaunting grimy street,

Charles The First

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

A Pursuivant.
Place, for the Marshal of the Masque!

On Winter

© George Moses Horton

When smiling Summer's charms are past,
The voice of music dies;
Then Winter pours his chilling blast
From rough inclement skies.

The Moat House

© Edith Nesbit

PART I

I

Charleston

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

Then fold about thy beauteous form
The imperial robe thou wearest,
And front with regal port the storm
Thy foe would dream thou fearest;
If strength, and will, and courage fail
To cope with ruthless numbers,

Touchstone On A Bus

© Alfred Noyes

Last night I rode with Touchstone on a bus

From Ludgate Hill to World's End. It was he!

Senlin: A Biography Pt 02: His Futile Preoccupations

© Conrad Aiken

Vine leaves tap my window,
Dew-drops sing to the garden stones,
The robin chips in the chinaberry tree
Repeating three clear tones.

Ned the Larrikin

A SONG that is bitter with griefa ballad as pale as the light

That comes with the fall of the leaf, I sing to the shadows to-night.

The Dream by the Fountain

Bright was her brow, not the mornings brow brighter,
But her eyes were two midnights of passionate thought;
Light was her motion, the breezes not lighter,
And her looks were like sunshine and shadow in-wrought.