MORNING MORNING
The Morn! she is the source of sighs, The very face to make us sad; If but to think in other times The same calm quiet look she had. Hood—Ode to Melancholy. </poem>
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The blessed morn has come again;
The early gray
Taps at the slumberer's window pane.
And seems to say,
Break, break from the enchanter's chain,
Away, away!
Ralph Hoyt—Snow. A Winter Sketch.
I have heard the mavis singing
Its love-song to the morn;
I've seen the dew-drop clinging
To the rose just newly born.
Charles Jeffreys—Mary of Argyle.
Hues of the rich unfolding morn,
That, ere the glorious sun be born,
By some soft touch invisible
Around his path are taught to swell.
Keble—The Christian Year. Morning.
• s A fine morning,
Nothing's the matter with it that I know of.
I have seen better and I have seen worse.
| author = Longfellow
| work = Christus. Pt. III. John Endicott. Act V. Sc. 2.
Far off I hear the crowing of the cocks,
And through the opening door that time unlocks
Feel the fresh breathing of To-morrow creep.
| author = Longfellow
| work = To-morrow.
Like pearl
Dropt from the opening eyelids of the morn
Upon the bashful rose.
Middleton—Game of Chess.
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{{Hoyt quote
| num = 5
| text = Under the opening eyelids of the morn.
| author = Milton
| work = Lycidas. L. 26.
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.
| author = Milton
| work = Lycidas. L. 171.
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest birds.
Now morn, her rosy steps in th' eastern clime
Advancing, sow'd the earth with Orient pearl.
| author = Milton
| work = Paradise Lost.
| place = Bk. V. L. 1.
Morn,
Wak'd by the circling hours, with rosy hand
Unbarr'd the gates of light.
| author = Milton
| work = Paradise Lost.
| place = Bk. VI. L. 2.
Till morning fair
Came forth with pilgrim steps in amice gray.
| author = Milton
| work = Paradise Regained. Bk. IV. L. 426.
When did morning ever break,
And find such beaming eyes awake?
Moore—Fly not Yet.
Morgen Stunde hat Gold im Munde.
The morning hour has gold in the mouth.
For history of the saying see Max Miller—
Lectures on the Science of Language. Sec.
Series. P. 378. (Ed. 1864)
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{{Hoyt quote
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| text = <poem>Hadn't he been blowing kisses to Earth millions
of years before I was born?
James Oppenheim—Morning and I.
Bright chanticleer proclaims the dawn
And spangles deck the thorn.
John O'Keefe—Tzar Peter. Act I. Sc. 4.
(Originally "bold" for "bright.
