Morning poems
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Natalias Resurrection: Sonnet IX
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Thus Adrian learned it. And behold, his heart,
Which he had hardened against all dismay,
And wrapped up secretly and laid apart
As something which should not be used to--day,
Three Dead Friends
© James Whitcomb Riley
Always suddenly they are gone--
The friends we trusted and held secure--
The Blind Caravan
© William Wilfred Campbell
Faint elfin songs from out the past
Of some lost sunset land
Haunt this grim pageant drifting, vast,
Across the trackless sand.
After A Lecture On Shelley
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
ONE broad, white sail in Spezzia's treacherous bay
On comes the blast; too daring bark, beware I
The cloud has clasped her; to! it melts away;
The wide, waste waters, but no sail is there.
The Outlaw
© William Henry Ogilvie
Our realm was the fenceless ranges. We fed in the bluegrass swamps.
The green of the branching wilga was the roof of our noonday camps.
We drank at the pools in the lignum, where die mist and moonlight meet,
Stealing like wraiths through the darkness with the dew on our shoeless feet.
Merope
© Henry Kendall
FAR in the ways of the hyaline wastesin the face of the splendid
Six of the sistersthe star-dowered sisters ineffably bright,
Garrison
© John Greenleaf Whittier
THE storm and peril overpast,
The hounding hatred shamed and still,
Go, soul of freedom! take at last
The place which thou alone canst fill.
On The Truth Of The Saviour
© George Moses Horton
E'en John the Baptist did not know
Who Christ the Lord could be,
And bade his own disciples go
The strange event to see.
The Welcome
© Thomas Osborne Davis
Come in the evening, or come in the morning;
Come when you re lookd for, or come without warning:
The Dawn of God's Sabbath
© Ada Cambridge
The dawn of Gods dear Sabbath
Breaks oer the earth again,
Father William
© James Whitcomb Riley
"You are old, Father William, and though one would think
All the veins in your body were dry,
Yet the end of your nose is red as a pink;
I beg your indulgence, but why?"
The Hot Season
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
But soon the people could not bear
The slightest hint of fire;
Allusions to caloric drew
A flood of savage ire;
January Morning
© William Carlos Williams
I have discovered that most of
the beauties of travel are due to
the strange hours we keep to see them:
Corporal Schnapps
© Henry Clay Work
CHORUS: Ach! Mein fraulein!
You ish so ferry unkind!
You coes mit Hans to Zhermany to live,
And leaves poor Schnapps pehind,
And leaves poor Schnapps pehind.
Ode For Washingtons Birthday
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
CELEBRATION OF THE MERCANTILE LIBRARY ASSOCIATION,
FEBRUARY 22, 1856
Mirage
© Ada Cambridge
Is it a will-o'-the-wisp, or is dawn breaking,
That our horizon wears so strange a hue?
Is it but one more dream, or are we waking
To find that dreams, at last, are coming true?
