Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A LIFE-DAY, by GEORGE BOYER VASHON First Line: The breeze awakes with morn's first ray Last Line: For this, o warren! That you died? Subject(s): U.s. - Reconstruction (1865-77) | ||||||||
MORNING The breeze awakes with morn's first ray, Like childhood roused from sleep to play; The sunshine, like a fairy sprite, Comes to undo the wrong of night; And earth is jocund with the glee That swells from hill and vale and tree. It echoes music fitly set For mocking-bird and paroquet; And, joyous as a ransomed soul, It hears the notes of the oriole. The murmur of the wide-swept cane Hymneth the rapture of the plain, And mingles with the brooklet's song, -- A mirthful brook with fitful gleam, Hasting to Mississippi's stream, And gladdening both its banks along; Surely, to the mid scenes like this Doth render life a dream of bliss -- A treasure-house without alloy; -- Here's Joy's alive, and Life is joy. Oh! what a joy it is to him Who for this scene has left the room Where sickness, hollow-eyed and grim, Hath held, for years, its court of gloom -- Whose shrunken limbs too clearly own That there the monster had his throne! They tell not all his tale of woe, -- How friends and brothers from him fled, And left him to the fever's glow, The ulcered frame, the throbbing head, With no defense against the grave Save this - the care of one poor slave. That faithful one is by his side; -- What more of bliss can now betide? What matter that the earth is fair? What matter that the glad birds sing? His pleasure is that she doth share The balmy breeze's welcoming. Her sweet smile is the sunshine bright That floods the landscape wide with light; Her gladsome youth the genial morn That doth his happy day adorn, And her soft voice the music sweet With which no warbler can compete. And now that Life and Hope again Ope to him paths long closed by pain, -- Now, while her tawny cheek, her eye, Are bright with modest ecstasy, The hushed shades of the orange grove Smilingly hear his tale of love. NOON How swiftly glide our mortal years, When Love doth wing each blissful hour, -- When all our hopes, and all our fears, Shades of the heroes, long since gone! Was this your glory's end and aim Was it for this, O Washington! That, welcoming the rebel's name, Halter and battle you defined? For this, O Warren! that you died? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BROTHERHOOD (2) by EDWIN MARKHAM THE SHANNON AND THE CHESAPEAKE [JUNE 1, 1813] by THOMAS TRACY BOUVE A DISAPPOINTMENT by JOANNA BAILLIE THE HAPPY DAYS WHEN I WER YOUNG by WILLIAM BARNES AFTER CHURCH by SAMUEL ALFRED BEADLE A GIRL'S SONG ON HER LOVER, PAIDIN RUADH by CHARLES BEWLEY |
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