Morning poems
/ page 90 of 310 /The Golden Island: Arran From Ayr
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
DEEP set in distant seas it lies;
The morning vapors float and fall,
The noonday clouds above it rise,
Then drop as white as virgin's pall.
For The Fallen
© Robert Laurence Binyon
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
The Wrongs Of Africa, A Poem. Part The First
© William Roscoe
OFFSPRING of love divine, Humanity!
To who, his eldest born, th'Eternal gave
Can't
© Edgar Albert Guest
Can't is the worst word that's written or spoken;
Doing more harm here than slander and lies;
A Song Of Australia
© Roderick Flanagan
Joy fills to-day my bosom, and it flies through every vein,
It comes as on the parched plain descends midsummer rain;
It fills my soul with gladness, e'en to aerial beings new,
As sunbeams fall on budding flowers when morning gilds the dew.
John Winter
© Robert Laurence Binyon
What ails John Winter, that so oft
Silent he sits apart?
The neighbours cast their looks on him;
But deep he hides his heart.
Dawnlight On The Sea
© Ada Cambridge
When I kneel down the dawn is only breaking;
Sleep fetters still the brown wings of the lark;
The wind blows pure and cool, for day is waking,
But stars are scattered still about the dark.
To Hilda Of Her Roses
© Grace Hazard Conkling
ENOUGH has been said about roses
To fill thirty thick volumes;
There are as many songs about roses
As there are roses in the world
That includes Mexico . . . the Azores… Oregon…
Mary Rivers
© Henry Kendall
Path beside the silver waters, flashing in Octobers sun
Walk, by green and golden margins where the sister streamlets run
Three-Legged Man
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Well now friends you'll never guess it so I really must confess it
I just met the sweetest woman of my long dismal life.
But a friend of mine said, "Buddy, just in case your mind is muddy,
Don't you know that girl you're fooling with is Peg-Leg Johnson's wife.
Guilt And Sorrow, Or, Incidents Upon Salisbury Plain
© William Wordsworth
I
A TRAVELLER on the skirt of Sarum's Plain
Pursued his vagrant way, with feet half bare;
Stooping his gait, but not as if to gain
The Mortal Lease
© Edith Wharton
Because we have this knowledge in our veins,
Shall we deny the journeys gathered lore
The great refusals and the long disdains,
The stubborn questing for a phantom shore,
The sleepless hopes and memorable pains,
And all mortalitys immortal gains?
Creation Made Like Hope
© James Dickey
Has experienced and has perched
Has put up with it and has disinvested
Has raised and has razed
Has pondered and has asked
Has said and has raised
Idylls of the King: The Last Tournament (excerpt)
© Alfred Tennyson
To whom the King, "Peace to thine eagle-borne
Dead nestling, and this honour after death,
Following thy will! but, O my Queen, I muse
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone
Those diamonds that I rescued from the tarn,
And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to wear."
On Carpaccio's Picture
© Amy Lowell
Swept, clean, and still, across the polished floor
From some unshuttered casement, hid from sight,
Paradise Lost : Book VII.
© John Milton
Descend from Heaven, Urania, by that name
If rightly thou art called, whose voice divine