Morning poems
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Jerusalem Delivered - Book 03 - part 01
© Torquato Tasso
THE ARGUMENT.
The camp at great Jerusalem arrives:
Ballade Des Pendus
© Theodore de Banville
Prince, where leaves murmur of the May,
A tree of bitter clusters grows;
The bodies of men dead are they!
_This is King Louis's orchard close_!
Aspiration
© Madison Julius Cawein
God knows I strive against low lust and vice,
Wound in the net of their voluptuous hair;
God knows that all their kisses are as ice
To me who do not care.
It is not seemly to be famous...
© Boris Pasternak
It is not seemly to be famous:
Celebrity does not exalt;
There is no need to hoard your writings
And to preserve them in a vault.
Quatrain (With English Translation)
© Faiz Ahmed Faiz
Raat yunh dil mein teri khoee hui yaad aayee
Jaise veeraaney mein chupkey sey bahaar aa jaye
Jaisey sehra on mein howley se chaley baadey naseem
Jaisey beemaar ko bey wajhey Qaraar aa jaaye
Dewdrops
© John Clare
The dewdrops on every blade of grass are so much like silver drops
that I am obliged to stoop down as I walk to see if they are pearls,
The Morning Dream, A Ballad. To The Tune Of 'Tweed Side.'
© William Cowper
'Twas in the glad season of spring,
Asleep at the dawn of the day,
Unyielding
© Rabindranath Tagore
In the fierce harsh storms of Baisakh,
Golden ripened fruit fell tumbling.
'Dust, I said, 'defiles such offerings:
Let your hands be heaven to them.'
Still you showed no friendliness.
The Old Dutch Oven
© Arthur Chapman
Some sigh for cooks of boyhood days, but none of them for me;
One roundup cook was best of all t was with the X-Bar-T.
And when we heard the grub-pile call at morning, noon, and night,
The old Dutch oven never failed to cook the things just right.
Three (O'clock) in the Morning
© Judith Viorst
At three in the morning I used to be sleeping an untroubled
sleep in my bed.
But lately at three in the morning I'm tossing and turning,
Awakened by hypochondria, and gas, and nameless dread,
Whose name I've been learning. (worry)
The Merrimac
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Stream of my fathers! sweetly still
The sunset rays thy valley fill;
Fitz Adam's Story
© James Russell Lowell
The next whose fortune 'twas a tale to tell
Was one whom men, before they thought, loved well,
Purgatorio (English)
© Dante Alighieri
To run o'er better waters hoists its sail
The little vessel of my genius now,
That leaves behind itself a sea so cruel;
The Lily of St Leonards
© Henry Lawson
O Lily of St Leonards!
And I was mad to roam
She died with loving words for me
Three days ere I came home.
The Sense Of Beauty
© Caroline Norton
Lo! at his pencil's touch steals faintly forth
(Like an uprising star in the cold north)
Some face which soon shall glow with beauty's fire:
Dim seems the sketch to those who stand around,
Dim and uncertain as an echoed sound,
But oh! how bright to him, whose hand thou dost inspire!
Good Tidings; Or News From The Farm
© Robert Bloomfield
Where's the Blind Child, so admirably fair,
With guileless dimples, and with flaxen hair
On Receiving One Of Glorianas Letters
© Vachel Lindsay
Your pen needs but a ruffle
To be Pavlova whirling.
