Morning poems

 / page 49 of 310 /
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An Afternoon

© Raymond Carver

As he writes, without looking at the sea,


he feels the tip of his pen begin to tremble.

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Lochiel's Warning

© Thomas Campbell

Lochiel. - Go, preach to the coward, thou death-telling seer!
Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear,
Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight!
This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright.

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Sonnet III (To the Virgin Mary)

© Mikolaj Sep Szarzynski

Unequalled Virgin, the second ornament
Of the human race, whose dignity has not diminished
Her humility, nor has humility lessened her generosity of heart,
O rare Mother of her own Creator!

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First Day Of Summer

© Robert Laurence Binyon

Sweetest of all delights are the vainest, merest;
Hours when breath is joy, for the breathing's sake.
Summer awoke this morning, and early awake
I rose refreshed, and gladly my eyes saluted

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Morning In The Hospital Solarium

© Sylvia Plath

Sunlight strikes a glass of grapefruit juice,
flaring green through philodendron leaves
in this surrealistic house
of pink and beige, impeccable bamboo,

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New Morality

© George Canning


But say,-indignant does the Muse retire,
Her shrine deserted, and extinct its fire?
No pious hand to feed the sacred flame,
No raptured soul a Poet's charge to claim.

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Coogee

© Henry Kendall

Sing the song of wave-worn Coogee, Coogee in the distance white,

With its jags and points disrupted, gaps and fractures fringed with light;

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Music's Duel

© Richard Crashaw

Now westward Sol had spent the richest beams

Of noon's high glory, when, hard by the streams

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Marmion: Canto IV. - The Camp

© Sir Walter Scott

I.

Eustace, I said, did blithely mark

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Maternal Grief

© William Wordsworth

DEPARTED Child! I could forget thee once
Though at my bosom nursed; this woeful gain
Thy dissolution brings, that in my soul
Is present and perpetually abides

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Lara. A Tale

© George Gordon Byron

Proud Otho on the instant, reddening, threw
His glove on earth, and forth his sabre flew.
"The last alternative befits me best,
And thus I answer for mine absent guest."

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The Mountain Of The Lovers

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

I.
LOVE scorns degrees! the low he lifteth high,
The high he draweth down to that fair plain
Whereon, in his divine equality,

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From North Wales: To The Mother

© George MacDonald

When the summer gave us a longer day,
And the leaves were thickest, I went away:
Like an isle, through dark clouds, of the infinite blue,
Was that summer-ramble from London and you.

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After A Lecture On Wordsworth

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

COME, spread your wings, as I spread mine,
And leave the crowded hall
For where the eyes of twilight shine
O'er evening's western wall.

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Pioneers

© William Henry Drummond

If dey 're walkin' on de roadside, an' dey 're bote in love togeder,
  An' de star of spring is shinin' wit' de young moon in between,
  It was purty easy guessin' dey 're not talkin' of de wedder,
  W'en de boy is comin' twenty, an' de girl is jus' eighteen.

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To A Jilted Lover

© Sylvia Plath

Cold on my narrow cot I lie
and in sorrow look
through my window-square of black:

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Glasgow

© Alexander Smith

SING, poet, 'tis a merry world;

That cottage smoke is rolled and curled

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The Broken Circle

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

I STOOD On Sarum's treeless plain,
The waste that careless Nature owns;
Lone tenants of her bleak domain,
Loomed huge and gray the Druid stones.

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At Long Last

© Ada Cambridge

Late, late, the prize is drawn, the goal attained,
The Heart's Desire fulfilled, Love's guerdon gained.
Wealth's use is past, Fame's crown of laurel mocks
The downward-drooping head and grizzled locks.
The end is reached-the end of toil and strife-
The end of life.

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Retrospection

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

WHEN you and I were young, the days

Were filled with scent of pink and rose,