Morning poems
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Pippa Passes: Part III: Evening
© Robert Browning
Mother
If there blew wind, you'd hear a long sigh, easing
The utmost heaviness of music's heart.
The Death-Raven (From The Danish Of Oehlenslaeger)
© George Borrow
"The wealthy bird came towering,
Came scowering,
O'er hill and stream.
'Look here, look here, thou needy bird,
How gay my feathers gleam.'
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 02:
© Conrad Aiken
You readwhat is it, then that you are reading?
What music moves so silently in your mind?
Your bright hand turns the page.
I watch you from my window, unsuspected:
You move in an alien land, a silent age . . .
Up In The Morning Early
© Robert Burns
Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west,
The drift is driving sairly;
Sae loud shrill`s I hear the blast,
I`m sure it`s winters fairly.
Homage to Hieronymus Bosch
© Thomas MacGreevy
A woman with no face walked into the light;
A boy, in a brown-tree norfolk suit,
Holding on
Without hands
To her seeming skirt.
Poems Of Joys
© Walt Whitman
O to make the most jubilant poem!
Even to set off these, and merge with these, the carols of Death.
O full of music! full of manhood, womanhood, infancy!
Full of common employments! full of grain and trees.
Vultures
© Padraic Colum
FOUL-FEATHERED and scald-necked,
They sit in evil state;
Raw marks upon their breasts
As on men's wearing chains.
Sonnet LVIII. The Glow-Worm
© Charlotte Turner Smith
WHEN on some balmy-breathing night of Spring
The happy child, to whom the world is new,
Pursues the evening moth, of mealy wing,
Or from the heath-bell beats the sparkling dew;
Message From Abroad
© Allen Tate
Paris, November 1929
Their faces are bony and sharp but very red, although
their ancestors nearly two hundred years have dwelt
by the miasmal banks of tidewaters where malarial fever
makes men gaunt and dosing with quinine shakes them
as with a palsy. Traveller to America (1799).
The Bride Of The Nile - Act III
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
(Enter Barix and Boïlas conversing.)
Barix. I always said it, Boïlas, it must come at last,
The day of annexation. Things have moved on fast,
Faster than we quite thought a week or two ago.
The mills of Rome grind slowly--quite absurdly slow.
It comes to the same thing.
Marmion: Introduction to Canto I
© Sir Walter Scott
November's sky is chill and drear,
November's leaf is red and sear:
Old Fashioned Roses
© James Whitcomb Riley
They ain't no style about 'em,
And they're sorto' pale and faded,
Lyrebirds
© Judith Wright
Over the west side of the mountain,
thats lyrebird country.
I could go down there, they say, in the early morning,
and Id see them, Id hear them.
Come Slowly, Paradise
© James Benjamin Kenyon
O dawn upon me slowly, Paradise!
Come not too suddenly,
Lest my just-opened, unaccustomed eyes
Smitten with blindness be.
Seasonal Cycle - Chapter 05 - Winter
© Kalidasa
"Oh, dear with best thighs, heart-stealing is this environ with abundantly grown stacks of rice and their cobs, or with sugarcane, and it is reverberated with the screeches of ruddy gees that abide hither and thither… now heightened will be passion, thereby this season will be gladdening for lusty womenfolk, hence listen of this season, called Shishira, the Winter…
"At this time, people enjoy abiding in the medial places of their residences, whose ventilators are blockaded for the passage of chilly air, and at fireplaces, in sunrays, with heavy clothing, and along with mature women of age, for they too will be passionately steamy…
Abide With Me
© Henry Francis Lyte
Abide with me! Fast falls the Eventide;
The darkness thickens. Lord, with me abide
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me!
Song is Not Dead
© Robert Fuller Murray
Song is not dead, although to-day
Men tell us everything is said.
There yet is something left to say,
Song is not dead.
Harvard
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
CHANGELESS in beauty, rose-hues on her cheek,
Old walls, old trees, old memories all around
