Morning poems
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A Christmas Letter From Australia
© Douglas Brooke Wheelton Sladen
T IS Christmas, and the North wind blows; t was two years yesterday
Since from the Lusitanias bows I looked oer Table Bay,
Willie's Question
© George MacDonald
I.
Willie speaks.
Is it wrong, the wish to be great,
For I do wish it so?
I have asked already my sister Kate;
She says she does not know.
An April Morning
© Bliss William Carman
ONCE more in misted April
The world is growing green.
Along the winding river
The plumey willows lean.
Tauler
© John Greenleaf Whittier
And as he walked he prayed. Even the same
Old prayer with which, for half a score of years,
Morning, and noon, and evening, lip and heart
Had groaned: "Have pity upon me, Lord!
Thou seest, while teaching others, I am blind.
Send me a man who can direct my steps!"
Break o Day
© Henry Lawson
I was born to ruin or born to mar
The home wherever I light.
Oh! I wish that you were the Evening Star
And that I were the Fall o Night.
San Stefano
© Sir Henry Newbolt
She'd a right fighting company, three hundred men and more,
Nine and forty guns in tackle running free;
And they cheered her from the shore for her colours at the fore,
When the bold _Menelaus_ put to sea.
On Lucy, Countess of Bedford
© Benjamin Jonson
This morning, timely rapt with holy fire,
I thought to form unto my zealous Muse
Praise Of Creation
© George Moses Horton
Creation fires my tongue!
Nature thy anthems raise;
And spread the universal song
Of thy Creator's praise!
To A.J. Scott
© George MacDonald
I walked all night: the darkness did not yield.
Around me fell a mist, a weary rain,
Enduring long. At length the dawn revealed
The Dunciad: Book III.
© Alexander Pope
But in her Temple's last recess inclos'd,
On Dulness' lap th' Anointed head repos'd.
Thoughts Fer The Discuraged Farmer
© James Whitcomb Riley
The summer winds is sniffin' round the bloomin'
locus' trees;
Juliet's Soliloquy
© William Shakespeare
Farewell!--God knows when we shall meet again.
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins
The Wolves
© Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy
When the church-village slumbers
And the last songs are sung,
Fourth Sunday After Epiphany
© John Keble
They know the Almighty's power,
Who, wakened by the rushing midnight shower,
The Hidden Heart
© Roderic Quinn
AS I rode out of Lochinvar
About me all the scene was fair;
The skies, with not a cloud to mar,
Were filled with fresh and dewy air,
Child Thoughts
© William Henry Drummond
WRITTEN TO COMMEMORATE THE ANNIVER-
SARY OF MY BROTHER TOM 'S BIRTHDAY
