Morning poems
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The Farm House By The River
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
I know a little country place
Where still my heart doth linger,
The Parting And The Coming Guest
© Henry Van Dyke
Who watched the worn-out Winter die?
Who, peering through the window-pane
Unveiled
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
Oh! sometimes by the fire
Of holy passion, in me, all subdued,
And melted to a mortal woman's mood,
Tender and warm,--
She, from her goddess height,
In gracious answer to my soul's desire,
A Story Of Doom: Book II.
© Jean Ingelow
Now ere the sunrise, while the morning star
Hung yet behind the pine bough, woke and prayed
I had a hippopotamus
© Patrick Barrington
I had a hippopotamus; I kept him in a shed
And fed him upon vitamins and vegetable bread.
I made him my companion on many cheery walks,
And had his portrait done by a celebrity in chalks.
Morning Song Of Love
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Darling, my darling, my heart is on the wing,
It flies to thee this morning like a bird,
Like happy birds in springtime my spirits soar and sing,
The same sweet song thine ears have often heard.
Ecco Mormorar L'onde (Now The Waves Murmur)
© Torquato Tasso
Ecco mormorar l'onde,
E tremolar le fronde
A Poem On The Last Day - Book I
© Edward Young
When, lo, a mighty trump, one half conceal'd
In clouds, one half to mortal eye reveal'd,
Shall pour a dreadful note; the piercing call
Shall rattle in the centre of the ball;
The' extended circuit of creation shake,
The living die with fear, the dead awake.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. The Student's Tale; Emma and Eginhard
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Smaragdo, Abbot of St. Michael's, said,
With many a shrug and shaking of the head,
Surely some demon must possess the lad,
Who showed more wit than ever schoolboy had,
And learned his Trivium thus without the rod;
But Alcuin said it was the grace of God.
The Last Prayer
© William Wilfred Campbell
MASTER of life, the day is done;
My sun of life is sinking low;
I watch the hours slip one by one
And hark the night-wind and the snow.
Ormuzd And Ahriman. Part I
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
YE interstellar spaces, serene and still and clear.
Above, below, around!
Ye gray unmeasured breadths of ether, sphere on sphere!
We listen, but no sound
Rings from your depths profound.
On The Death of The Rev'd Dr. Sewall
© Phillis Wheatley
Now this faint Semblance of his life complete
He is, thro' Jesus, made divinely great
And left a glorious pattern to repeat
'On the Summit of Mt. Clarence'
© Henry Lawson
On the summit of Mount Clarence rotting slowly in the air
Stands a tall and naked flagstaff, relic of the Russian scare
Russian scare that scares no longer, for the cry is All is well
Yet the flagstaff still is standing like a lonely sentinel.
And it watches through the seasonswinters cold and summers heat,
Watches seaward, watches ever for the phantom Russian fleet.
At The Grave Of Keats
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
To G. W. C.
LONG, long ago, in the sweet Roman spring
Through the bright morning air we slowly strolled,
And in the blue heaven heard the skylarks sing
Arethusa
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Arethusa arose
From her couch of snows
In the Acroceraunian mountains,--
The Two Friends
© Carolyn Wells
A Spider and a Centipede went out to take a walk;
The Centipede said frankly, "I will listen while you talk,
But I may appear distracted, or assume a vacant stare,
Because to keep my feet in step requires my constant care."
"Lucy"
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
FOR HER GOLDEN WEDDING, OCTOBER 18, 1875
"Lucy."--The old familiar name
