I used to hail the festal morn How must Mohammed greet it now?

And if to crown my joys, 530 Ye grant me health, that, ruddy in my cheeks, Blooms in my life's decline; fields, woods, and streams, Each towering hill, each humble vale below, Shall hear my cheering voice, my hounds shall wake The lazy morn, and glad the horizon round.

But, Fragoletta, now you're born, You must learn to love the morn, Love the lovely working light, Love the miracle of sight, Love the thousand things to do Little girl, I envy you!

No more the rising sun shall gild the morn, Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn; But lost, dissolved in thy superior rays, One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze O'erflow thy courts; the Light himself shall shine Revealed, and God's eternal day be thine!

[From Rollo, Duke of Normandy.] Take, oh take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn, And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn; But my kisses bring again, Seals of love, though sealed in vain.

As yet the trembling year is unconfirmed, And Winter oft at eve resumes the breeze, Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving sleets Deform the day delightless; so that scarce The bittern knows his time, with bill engulfed, To shake the sounding marsh, or from the shore The plovers when to scatter

In the dusk ere breaks the morn; And in silvery wavelets dallies, With the wind, the ripening corn.

They do not sow, nor reap the corn, Gar-ner nor barn have they; God gives them break-fast every morn, And feeds them through the day.

Thou lingering star, with lessening ray, That lov'st to greet the early morn, Again thou usher'st in the day My Mary from my soul was torn, O Mary!

Soon as the father saw the rosy morn, And the moon shining with a blunter horn, He bid the nimble Hours without delay Bring forth the steeds; the nimble Hours obey: From their full racks the generous steeds retire, 140 Dropping ambrosial foams and snorting fire.

She wud be gled, though she wud greet, if I got a bullet the morn.

Why should we then suspect or fear The influences of a year, So smiles upon us the first morn, And speaks us good so soon as born? Plague on't!

I rose this morn resolved to be more true To your high thought of womanhood, and wife, To bear with Torm more patiently, and strive To make my life more worthy of your love; And then,God help me,my resolve was crushed By Torm's fierce hand, and love for you set free.

Replete with thee, e'en hideous night grows fair: Then what would sweet morn be, if thou wert there?

He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of doubting, For mist and the blowing of winds and the mouthing of words he scorns; Not the sinuous speech of schools he hears, but a knightly shouting, And never comes darkness down, yet he greeteth a million morns.

Darker grew the morn.

To-morrow's light (O haste the glorious morn!)

November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh; The shortening winter-day is near a close; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh; The blackening trains o' craws to their repose: The toil-worn cotter frae his labour goes This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend.

[THE SPLENDOUR OF INSECTS] Gemmed o'er their heads the mines of India gleam, And heaven's own wardrobe has arrayed their frame; Each spangled back bright sprinkling specks adorn, Each plume imbibes the rosy-tinctured morn; Spread on each wing, the florid seasons glow, Shaded and verged with the celestial bow, Where colours blend an ever-varying dye, And wanton in their gay exchanges vie.

The robin is the one That interrupts the morn With hurried, few, express reports When March is scarcely on.

"Oh, soon to me may summer suns Nae mair light up the morn!

But while the seamen crouched to sleep, Conn sat alone in reverie deep, And saw before him in a maze The mute procession of his days, In gloom and glamour wending fast His heart a-hungering for the past Again he leapt, a tender boy, To greet his sire with eager joy, When he came over the wide North Sea, Enriched with spoils of victory Then heavily loomed that fateful morn When tidings of his fall were borne From Alban shore ...

It is in our hours of pain and privation that we begin to feel its sting: if we are prosperous, we fancy we reap the fruits of our own merit; but if we are unfortunate, the voice of truth seldom fails to remind us that we are deserving of our fate:a blessed provision of Providence that often makes the saddest hours of our earthly career the morn of a day that is to endure for ever.

Ah! Bernard, say our pageants were not wasted, Not vain the Adjutant's laborious blush! Was it to Maud this glowing morn you hasted With yonder bauble in its bed of plush

When milk-maids milk her morn and night, She gives them milk so fresh and white; And this, we little children think, Is very nice for us to drink.