Morning poems
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One Against the World
© William Schwenck Gilbert
When charms enthral
There's some excuse
For measures strong;
And after all
I'm but a goose,
And may be wrong!
The Bells Of Ostend
© William Lisle Bowles
No, I never, till life and its shadows shall end,
Can forget the sweet sound of the bells of Ostend!
Second Sunday After Epiphany
© John Keble
The heart of childhood is all mirth:
We frolic to and fro
As free and blithe, as if on earth
Were no such thing as woe.
My Portrait Gallery
© James Russell Lowell
Oft round my hall of portraiture I gaze,
By Memory reared, the artist wise and holy,
Dream-Death
© Robert Crawford
There is a breath at midnight that comes in
Sad as a sigh, for then the day is dead
To My Young Countryman D.H.D.
© Charles Harpur
Who doubteth, when the morning star doth light
Her lamp of beauty, that the day is coming?
A Portrait
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Thoughtful in youth, but not austere in age;
Calm, but not cold, and cheerful though a sage;
Too true to flatter and too kind to sneer,
And only just when seemingly severe;
So gently blending courtesy and art
That wisdomâs lips seemed borrowing friendshipâs heart.
One Woman's Memory
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Here is a lock of his soft, dark hair,
And here are the letters he wrote to me.
Joy Of The Morning
© Edwin Markham
I hear you, little bird,
Shouting a-swing above the broken wall.
Shout louder yet: no song can tell it all.
Sing to my soul in the deep, still wood :
Tis wonderful beyond the wildest word:
I d tell it, too, if I could.
The Orphans' New Year's Gift
© Arthur Rimbaud
The room is full of shadow; you can hear, indistinctly, the sad soft whispering of two children.
Their foreheads lean forward, still heavy with dreams, beneath the long white bed-curtain
Evangeline: Part The Second. I.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
MANY a weary year had passed since the burning of Grand-Pré,
When on the falling tide the freighted vessels departed,
Parable Of The Madman
© Friedrich Nietzsche
Have you not heard of that madman who lit a lantern in the bright morning
hours,
Crazed
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
'The Spring again hath started on the course
Wherein she seeketh Summer thro' the Earth.
I will arise and go upon my way.
It may be that the leaves of Autumn hid
His footsteps from me; it may be the snows.
Remonstrance
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Bless the dear old verdant land,
Brother, wert thou born of it?
As thy shadow life doth stand,
Twining round its rosy band,
Naucratia; Or Naval Dominion. Part II.
© Henry James Pye
Yet midst the scene of dread, when certain fate
Rides on the tempest in terrific state,
Bold in the face of death the naval train
Exert their force, and brave the insulting main;
Though rising horrors on their efforts lower,
And the deaf whirlwind mock their useless power.
Across The Pampas
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Dost thou remember, oh, dost thou remember,
Here as we sit at home and take our rest,
How we went out one morning on a venture
In the West?
