GET up, my lad! The sun is rising, it is a most majestic day; Aurora's beauties are surprising, you should be glad to quit the hay. Get up, get up, the dew is gleaming, like priceless jewels on the grass; it is a sin to lie here dreaming, while morning's transient glories pass. Get up, my son, the light is stealing athwart the summit of the hill, and I can hear the porkers squealing for buckets of refreshing swill. The oriole's already soaring, the mocking bird begins to mock, and you, O sluggish youth, are snoring, although it's nearly four o'clock! When I was young my sainted father ne'er had to rouse me from my bed; I thought it shame to cause such bother—I rose before the East was red. Before the wren began its carols, or catbird raised its solo fine, I went and carried seven barrels of slop to feed the humpbacked swine. I went about my labors singing, as I would see you do, my son; and when the breakfast bell was ringing, the morning chores were always done. Get up, get up, the world is waking! The morn is grand, but soon it fades! And in three shakes I will be breaking this slat across your shoulder blades! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOLY SONNET: ANNUNCIATION by JOHN DONNE THE PHILOSOPHER by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 12. ON RECOVERING FROM A FIT OF SICKNESS IN COUNTRY by MARK AKENSIDE SABBATH HYMN by SOLOMON BEN MOSES HA-LEVI ALKABEZ |