|
|
|
Classic and Contemporary Poetry
SONNET: 1, 22, by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN Poet's Biography
First Line: The morning comes; not slow, with reddening gold
Last Line: And breaking hearts that hate the morning light.
First Line: The morning comes; not slow, with reddening gold
Last Line: And breaking hearts that hate the morning light.
The morning comes, not slow with reddening gold,
But wildly driven with windy shower and sway
As if the wind would blow the dark away:
Voices of wail, of misery multifold,
Wake with the light and its harsh glare obey.
And yet I walk betimes this day of spring,
Still my own private portion reckoning,
Not to compute, though every tear be told.
O might I on the gale my sorrow fling!
But sweep, sweep on, wild blast; who bids thee stay?
Across the stormy headlands shriek and sing
And, earlier than the daytime bring the day
To pouring eyes half-quenched with watery sight,
And breaking hearts that hate the morning light.
Other Poems of Interest...
A LATTER-DAY SAINT by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN
A SAMPLE OF COFFEE BEANS by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN
AN INCIDENT by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN
ANYBODY'S CRITIC by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN
APRIL by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN
AS SOMETIMES IN A GROVE by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN
CORALIE by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN
ELIDORE by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN
G.D.W. by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN
GUNHILDA by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN
HYMN TO THE VIRGIN by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN
HYMN WRITTEN FOR THE DEDICATION OF A CEMETERY by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN