Morning poems
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Morning Song Of The Bees
© Louisa May Alcott
"Awake! awake! for the earliest gleam
Of golden sunlight shines
Jack o' the Cudgel
© William Topaz McGonagall
'Twas in the famous town of Windsor, on a fine summer morn,
Where the sign of Windsor Castle did a tavern adorn;
And there sat several soldiers drinking together,
Resolved to make merry in spite of wind or weather.
Poppies In October
© Sylvia Plath
Even the sun-clouds this morning cannot manage such skirts.
Nor the woman in the ambulance
Whose red heart blooms through her coat so astoundingly -
The Vengeance Of The Goddess Diana
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
The shore sloped upward into foliaged hills,
Cleft by the channels of rock-fretted rills,
That flashed their wavelets, touched by iris lights,
O'er many a tiny cataract down the heights.
Honours -- Part I
© Jean Ingelow
To strive-and fail. Yes, I did strive and fail;
I set mine eyes upon a certain night
To find a certain star-and could not hail
With them its deep-set light.
The Ballad Of The Little Black Hound
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Who knocks at the Geraldine's door to-night
In the black storm and the rain?
The Vision Of Augustine And Monica
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Mother, because thine eyes are sealed in sleep,
And thy cheeks pale, and thy lips cold, and deep
In silence plunged, so fathomlessly still
Thou liest, and relaxest all thy will,
Love And Liberty
© Horace Smith
The linnet had flown from its cage away,
And flitted and sang in the light of day--
Had flown from the lady who loved it well,
In Liberty's freer air to dwell.
Alas! poor bird, it was soon to prove,
Sweeter than Liberty is Love.
A Streams Singing
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
O HOW beautiful is Morning!
How the sunbeams strike the daisies,
And the kingcups fill the meadow
Like a golden-shielded army
Edwin and Angela, A Ballad
© Oliver Goldsmith
'Turn, gentle hermit of the dale,
And guide my lonely way,
To where yon taper cheers the vale
With hospitable ray.
Sleeping And Waking
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
I Had a dream-I lay upon thy breast,
In that sweet place where we lay long ago:
I thought the morning woodbine to and fro
With playful shadows whipped away my rest,
And in my sleep I cried to thee, too blest,
Morals Of Desperation
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE man who's wholly ruined, sir, fears nothing;
How can he when all's lost to him already?
There is a desperate gayety which comes
To buoy one up in such a strait as this;
At Pompeii
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
At Pompeii I heard a woman laugh,
And turned to find the reason of her mirth;
Lavinia
© James Thomson
The lovely young Lavinia once had friends;
And fortune smiled deceitful on her birth:
For, in her helpless years deprived of all,
Of every stay, save innocence and Heaven,
Album Verses
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
WHEN Eve had led her lord away,
And Cain had killed his brother,
The stars and flowers, the poets say,
Agreed with one another.
Lillie of the Snowstorm
© Henry Clay Work
To his home, his once white, once lov'd cottage,
Late at night, a poor inebriate came;
Song of Unending Sorrow.
© Bai Juyi
China's Emperor, craving beauty that might shake an empire,
Was on the throne for many years, searching, never finding,
Antony Villa
© Henry Lawson
And the daughters of the Vardensthey are beautiful as Graces
But the balconys deserted, and they rarely show their faces;
And the swells of their acquaintance never seem to venture near them,
And the bailiff says they seldom have a cup of tea to cheer them.
