Morning poems
/ page 69 of 310 /
The Heroic Enthusiasts - Part The First =Fifth Dialogue.=
© Giordano Bruno
CIC. Now show me how I may be able for myself to consider the conditions
of these enthusiasts, through that which appears in the order of the
warfare here described.
To a Mountain
© Henry Kendall
To thee, O father of the stately peaks,
Above me in the loftier light - to thee,
The Buried Flower
© William Edmondstoune Aytoun
In the silence of my chamber,
When the night is still and deep,
And the drowsy heave of ocean
Mutters in its charmed sleep,
Josephs Dreams and Reuben's Brethren [A Recital in Six Chapters]
© Henry Lawson
CHAPTER I
I cannot blame old Israel yet,
Translations And Adaptations From Heine
© Ezra Pound
I
Is your hate, then, of such measure?
Do you, truly, so detest me?
Through all the world will I complain
Of how you have addressed me.
Scholar And The Carpenter
© Jean Ingelow
While ripening corn grew thick and deep,
And here and there men stood to reap,
Sonnet XL: But Love
© Samuel Daniel
But love whilst that thou mayst be lov'd again,
Now whilst thy May hath fill'd thy lap with flowers;
Cymru
© George Essex Evans
Dim in the mist of ages, seeking a resting-place,
Broke on the shores of Britain the wave of an Aryan race.
Shooting
© Henry James Pye
The Monarch hears, and with reluctant eyes
Gives the consent his boding heart denies;
His brow a placid guise dissembling wears,
While Reason vainly combats stronger fears.
To The River Arve
© William Cullen Bryant
Not from the sands or cloven rocks,
Thou rapid Arve! thy waters flow;
The Guest House
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.
On Mr. Howard's Account Of Lazarettos
© William Lisle Bowles
Mortal! who, armed with holy fortitude,
The path of good right onward hast pursued;
Lines Written Under The Conviction That It Is Not Wise To Read Mathematics In November After Ones F
© James Clerk Maxwell
In the sad November time,
When the leaf has left the lime,
The Child's Grave
© Edmund Blunden
I came to the churchyard where pretty Joy lies
On a morning in April, a rare sunny day;
Such bloom rose around, and so many birds' cries
That I sang for delight as I followed the way.
The Lovers Of Marchaid
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
Dominic came riding down, sworded, straight and splendid,
Drave his hilt against her door, flung a golden chain.
Said: "I'll teach your lips a song sweet as his that's ended,
Ere the white rose call the bee, the almond flower again."
The Old Flame
© Robert Lowell
My old flame, my wife!
Remember our lists of birds?
One morning last summer, I drove
by our house in Maine. It was still
on top of its hill -
