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Sunrise Poems

Table of Contents

  1. Good-Morning, Sun by Annette Wynne
  2. At Sunrise by Bliss Carman
  3. Sunrise by James Thomson
  4. Sunrise Through the Trees by Amos Russel Wells
  5. Sunrise by Anonymous
  6. A Morning Walk by Amos Russel Wells
  7. Sunrise by Anonymous
  8. The Dawn by Robin A. Walker
  9. Reveille by A.E Houseman
  10. Glad Day by W. Graham Robertson
  11. A Dew sufficed itself by Emily Dickinson
  12. The Juggler of Day by Emily Dickinson
  13. A Day by Emily Dickinson
  14. VII. Dawn by Emily Dickinson
  15. XVII. Dawn by Emily Dickinson
  16. The Traveller by Bliss Carman
  17. Dawn by Laurence Dunbar
  18. Dawn by John B. Tabb
  19. How the News Came by Amos Russel Wells
  20. Daybreak by John B. Tabb
  21. Sunrise From Mount Washington by Rufus Dawes
  22. Fire in the Sky by Ruby Archer
  23. A Song of the Sunrise by Anonymous
  24. Dawn by John Charles McNeill
  25. A Gift by Leonora Speyer
  26. Each Dawn by Annette Wynne

  1. At Sunrise

    by Bliss Carman

    Now the stars have faded
    In the purple chill,
    Lo, the sun is kindling
    On the eastern hill.

    Tree by tree the forest
    Takes the golden tinge,
    As the shafts of glory
    Pierce the summit's fringe.

    Rock by rock the ledges
    Take the rosy sheen,
    As the tide of splendor
    Floods the dark ravine.

    Like a shining angel
    At my cabin door,
    Shod with hope and silence,
    Day is come once more.

    Then, as if in sorrow
    That you are not here,
    All his magic beauties
    Gray and disappear.

  2. Sunrise

    by James Thomson

    But yonder comes the powerful king of day,
    Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud,
    The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow
    Illumed with liquid gold, his near approach
    Betoken glad. Lo! now apparent all,
    Aslant the dew-bright earth and colored air
    He looks in boundless majesty abroad,
    And sheds the shining day that, burnished, plays
    On rocks, and hills, and towers, and wandering streams,
    High gleaming from afar.

  3. Sunrise Through the Trees

    by Amos Russel Wells

    Where ocean reaches vast and wonderful
    Its ever-changing leagues of liquid light,
    Beating against the shore, but leading on
    The ardent vision, on and ever on,
    Beyond the circled margin of the sky,
    To fabled islands and to thoughts of God,
    There with what radiance of majesty
    The sun approaches, all the heavens lit
    With torches of his couriers, all the sea
    Laid with resplendent carpets for his feet!

    And how the flaming arches blare and ring
    With color salvos as my lord the sun
    Steps from the invisible chariot of the night
    And lifts his golden sceptre o'er the world!
    Beholding, man becomes imperial,
    And bears himself with finer confidence,
    For he, yes, he, and haply who but he,
    Sits on a throne co-sovereign of the day,
    And smiles at fear and toil and destiny,

    But dearer is the breaking of the dawn,
    And nearer is the coming of the sun,
    When, far from ocean or the level sweep
    Of broad savannas, through the friendly trees,
    The many-branching, close, and friendly trees,
    We see the sun approaching neighborly.
    Each waiting leaf is shining with the joy
    He flings before him; crossed and intercrossed
    With woodland mysteries of dark design,
    The softly happy sky pours gladness down,
    Till all the shadows twinkle with a smile,
    And all the blacknesses dissolve away.
    There's not a twig upon a lowly bush,
    Or bit of moss that gems a hidden stone,
    Or tiniest ant that creeps along the ground,
    But knows his neighbor Sun, and, knowing loves.
    The slender brook that winds through ferny clefts
    Talks of him to the pebbles; butterflies
    Carry the word of him, and reverent thrush
    Sings in his praise the anthem of the woods.

    Thus came the Christ: not clothed in sovereign state,
    Flashing with jewels, girt with steely pride,
    An empire-founder, builder of a throne,
    Uplifted high above the mass of men,
    And glittering on a million dazzled eyes;
    But taking little children on His knee,
    And pointing weary fishers to a catch,
    And lingering beside a village well
    To help a harlot into purity.
    And trudging up and down the flinty ways
    Of common life with homely, common men,
    Just to give here a smile, a warning there,
    Or glorify a meal by sharing it.
    And so He brought the heavens very near,
    For men to touch, and love, and rest upon.
    And wrap their shivering bodies in its glow.
    Thus to the hidden darkness of the world.
    The lurking fears, the festering secret sins,
    He brought the medicine of light; and thus
    To lonely souls despairing of a friend,
    And empty souls despairing of a good,
    And bitter souls despairing of a God,
    He brought a friendliness that never fails.
    The treasure-key of all and endless wealth,
    And showed them God low-knocking at their doors.

    O Sun of righteousness, Thou glorious One,
    Thou Majesty of majesties, Thou Might,
    Thou Wisdom, Thou Supreme of vastnesses,
    How good to know Thee in our woodland ways,
    And greet Thee through the parting of the trees!

  4. Sky Blooms

    by Amos Russel Wells

    From the lips of Morning,
    Where the blossoms lie,
    Petulantly scorning,
    Breathed a little sigh;

    "Sunrise flowers wither,
    Quickly turn to gray;
    Whither fly they? Whither
    Pass from light away?"

    From the sunset splendor,
    Glowing soft and clear,
    Came a whisper tender:
    "Morning, we are here!"

  5. A Morning Walk

    by Amos Russel Wells

    All hail! my brave, bright world of green and gold,
    My morning, smiling from the kiss of night!
    Your other lover greets you. Left and right
    The air's a-twitter in the sunshine bold,
    The air is praying in the shadowy wold.

    Sole lord am I of all this realm of sight,
    These swinging meadow sweeps, this delight
    Of ranking hills, these clouds just out of fold.
    Stoutly the sturdy road heneath my feet
    Rings me a morning weicome. Rise, my soul,
    The benediction of the sky to meet.
    Sound, color, fragrance, freshness—mine whole;
    Mine to receive, and haply mine to give;
    A kingly day, and kingly must I live.

  6. Sunrise

    by Anonymous

    I watch the glory that brings in the day
    From college towers that look across the glen,
    The eastern heaven spread out to my ken:
    The trees below, bright-tipped with morning's ray;

    The sky above with livid colors gay,
    Now filled with flaming clouds, with banks fire
    Heaped to the zenith, now in dull attire—
    One glowing hand helow the heaven's gray—
    And now a quiet sea with tint of green,
    And flakes of rosy and of sapphire lights,
    And now a hand of purple, dark and deep,
    In lighter skies, and edged with silver sheen;
    Now all one flush of color: wondrous sights
    By angels hrought us from the land of sleep.

  7. The Dawn

    by Robin A. Walker

    I stood upon a street at break of day,
    When first the rays of sunlight pierced the clouds
    And banished frosts and mists of night away
    And with them all the fears that night enshrouds.

    I saw the city's buildings lift their heads,
    To stand once more four square beside the spires,
    And men who last night crawled half-heartedly to bed
    Now hurried forth with hope's rekindled fires.

    The mighty clouds that fain would linger on
    The chilling winds that sought to hurt and freeze,
    Now faded into nothingness at dawn,
    I marveled that we'd given heed to these.

    While through the air a thought of newness came,
    New strength and vim, with joy to brest the fray,
    This was God's gift, to every one the same.
    The greatest of all gifts—a new-born day.

  8. Reveille

    by A.E Houseman

    Wake: the silver dusk returning
    Up the beach of darkness brims,
    And the ship of sunrise burning
    Strands upon the eastern rims.

    Wake: the vaulted shadow shatters,
    Trampled to the floor it spanned,
    And the tent of night in tatters
    Straws the sky-pavilioned land.

    Up, lad, up, ’tis late for lying:
    Hear the drums of morning play;
    Hark, the empty highways crying
    ‘Who’ll beyond the hills away?’

    Towns and countries woo together,
    Forelands beacon, belfries call;
    Never lad that trod on leather
    Lived to feast his heart with all.

    Up, lad: thews that lie and cumber
    Sunlit pallets never thrive;
    Morns abed and daylight slumber
    Were not meant for man alive.

    Clay lies still, but blood’s a rover;
    Breath’s a ware that will not keep.
    Up, lad: when the journey’s over
    There’ll be time enough to sleep.

  9. Glad Day

    by W. Graham Robertson

    Here's another day, dear,
    Here's the sun again
    Peeping in his pleasant way
    Through the window pane.
    Rise and let him in, dear,
    Hail him "hip hurray!"
    Now the fun will all begin.
    Here's another day!

    Down the coppice path, dear,
    Through the dewy glade,
    (When the Morning took her bath
    What a splash she made!)
    Up the wet wood-way, dear,
    Under dripping green
    Run to meet another day,
    Brightest ever seen.

    Mushrooms in the field, dear,
    Show their silver gleam.
    What a dainty crop they yield
    Firm as clouted cream,
    Cool as balls of snow, dear,
    Sweet and fresh and round!
    Ere the early dew can go
    We must clear the ground.

    Such a lot to do, dear,
    Such a lot to see!
    How we ever can get through
    Fairly puzzles me.
    Hurry up and out, dear,
    Then—away! away!
    In and out and round about,
    Here's another day!

  10. A Dew sufficed itself

    by Emily Dickinson

    A dew sufficed itself
    And satisfied a leaf,
    And felt, 'how vast a destiny!
    How trivial is life!'

    The sun went out to work,
    The day went out to play,
    But not again that dew was seen
    By physiognomy.

    Whether by day abducted,
    Or emptied by the sun
    Into the sea, in passing,
    Eternally unknown.

  11. The Juggler of Day

    by Emily Dickinson

    Blazing in gold and quenching in purple,
    Leaping like leopards to the sky,
    Then at the feet of the old horizon
    Laying her spotted face, to die;

    Stooping as low as the otter's window,
    Touching the roof and tinting the barn,
    Kissing her bonnet to the meadow, —
    And the juggler of day is gone!

  12. A Day

    by Emily Dickinson

    I'll tell you how the sun rose, —
    A ribbon at a time.
    The steeples swam in amethyst,
    The news like squirrels ran.

    The hills untied their bonnets,
    The bobolinks begun.
    Then I said softly to myself,
    "That must have been the sun!"

    * * *

    But how he set, I know not.
    There seemed a purple stile
    Which little yellow boys and girls
    Were climbing all the while

    Till when they reached the other side,
    A dominie in gray
    Put gently up the evening bars,
    And led the flock away.

  13. VII. Dawn

    by Emily Dickinson

    Not knowing when the dawn will come
    I open every door;
    Or has it feathers like a bird,
    Or billows like a shore?

  14. XVII. Dawn

    by Emily Dickinson

    When night is almost done,
    And sunrise grows so near
    That we can touch the spaces,
    It 's time to smooth the hair

    And get the dimples ready,
    And wonder we could care
    For that old faded midnight
    That frightened but an hour.

  15. The Traveller

    by Bliss Carman

    Before the night-blue fades
    And the stars are quite gone,
    I lift my head
    At the noiseless tread
    Of the angel of dawn.

    I hear no word, yet my heart
    Is beating apace;
    Then in glory all still
    On the eastern hill
    I behold his face.

    All day through the world he goes,
    Making glad, setting free;
    Then his day's work done, On the galleon sun
    He sinks in the sea.

  16. Dawn

    by Laurence Dunbar

    An angel, robed in spotless white,
    Bent down and kissed the sleeping Night.
    Night woke to blush; the sprite was gone.
    Men saw the blush and called it Dawn.

  17. Dawn

    by John B. Tabb

    Behold, as from a silver horn,
    The sacerdotal Night
    Outpours upon his latest-born
    The chrism of the light;
    And bids him to the altar come,
    Whereon for sacrifice,
    (A lamb before his shearers, dumb,)
    A victim shadow lies.

  18. Daybreak

    by John B. Tabb

    What was thy dream, sweet Morning? for, behold,'
    Thine eyes are heavy with the balm of night,
    And, as reluctant lilies to the light,
    The languid lids of lethargy unfold.
    Was it the tale of Yesterday retold —
    An echo wakened from the western height,
    Where the warm glow of sunset dalliance bright
    Grew, with the pulse of waning passion, cold?
    Or was it some heraldic vision grand
    Of legends that forgotten ages keep
    In twilight, where the sundering shoals of day
    Vex the dim sails, unpiloted, of Sleep,
    Till, one by one, the freighting fancies gay,
    Like bubbles, vanish on the treacherous strand?

  19. How the News Came

    by Amos Russel Wells

    'Twas a hawk first caught the glimmer from the top of Bradford's Hill;
    Swift he flew to tell the mastiff who keeps guard at Saunder's mill;
    Loud the mastiff barked: "He's coming! Sun is coming! Coming soon!"
    And a little squirrel heard it far away at Hazeldoon;
    Like a flash the squirrel hounded up the hill and down the glen,
    And he told the joyful message to a sleepy little wren;
    Up she started, chirping loudly: "Sun is coming Almost here!"
    And her eager little chirping woke our brave old chanticleer;
    Boldly he sang out the tidings, loud and clear as call could be—
    And the rooster by his crowing told the gladsome news to me.

  20. Sunrise From Mount Washington

    by Rufus Dawes

    The laughing hours have chased away the night,
    Plucking the stars out from her diadem:
    And now the blue-eyed Morn, with modest grace,
    Looks through her half-drawn curtains in the east,
    Blushing in smiles and glad as infancy.
    And see, the foolish Moon, but now so vain
    Of borrowed beauty, how she yields her charms,
    And, pale with envy, steals herself away!
    The clouds have put their gorgeous livery on,
    Attendant on the day: the mountain tops
    Have lit their beacons, and the vales below
    Send up a welcoming: no song of birds,
    Warbling to charm the air with melody,
    Floats on the frosty breeze; yet Nature hath
    The very soul of music in her looks!
    The sunshine and the shade of poetry.

    I stand upon thy lofty pinnacle,
    Temple of Nature! and look down with awe
    On the wide world beneath me, dimly seen;
    Around me crowd the giant sons of earth,
    Fixed on their old foundations, unsubdued;
    Firm as when first rebellion bade them rise
    Unrifted to the Thunderer: now they seem
    A family of mountains, clustering round
    Their hoary patriarch, emulously watching
    To meet the partial glances of the day.
    Far in the glowing east the flickering light,
    Mellow'd by distance, with the blue sky blending,
    Questions the eye with ever-varying forms.

    The sun comes up! away the shadows fling
    From the broad hills; and, hurrying to the West,
    Sport in the sunshine till they die away.
    The many beauteous mountain streams leap down,
    Out-welling from the clouds, and sparkling light
    Dances along with their perennial flow.
    And there is beauty in yon river's path,
    The glad Connecticut! I know her well,
    By the white veil she mantles o'er her charms:
    At times she loiters by a ridge of hills,
    Sportfully hiding; then again with glee,
    Out-rushes from her wild-wood lurking-place,
    Far as the eye can bound, the ocean-waves,
    And hills and rivers, mountains, lakes, and woods,
    And all that hold the faculty entranced,
    Bathed in a flood of glory, float in air,
    And sleep in the deep quietude of joy.

    There is an awful stillness in this place,
    A Presence, that forbids to break the spell,
    Till the heart pour its agony in tears.
    But I must drink the vision while it lasts;
    For even now the curling vapours rise,
    Wreathing their cloudy coronals, to grace
    These towering summits—bidding me away;
    But often shall my heart turn back again,
    Thou glorious eminence! and when oppress'd,
    And aching with the coldness of the world,
    Find a sweet resting-place and home with thee.

  21. Fire in the Sky

    by Ruby Archer

    I thought the darkness would not yield,
    Glooming the sun-forgotten sky,
    'Till pulsing, surging glows revealed
    A far-off burning,—home or field,
    Up flung the light. Oh whence? O why?

    I thought forgetfulness had spread
    A Lethean gloom athwart one sky,
    'Till memory's light crept warmly red
    From flame I deemed in ashes dead.
    Up leapt the light. Oh whence? Oh why?

  22. A Song of the Sunrise

    by Anonymous

    The night breaks. The light shakes
    Down from the sky.
    The darkness trembles: shivers, dissembles:
    Unwilling to die.
    And facile and fleet, on dusky feet,
    Out of the dripping sunlight tripping,
    Shadows pass by,
    All sprinkled and spattered
    With golden rain,
    All shivered, all shattered, like dream-ghosts scattered
    By the waking brain.

    The light dawns. The night mourns
    And the stars shiver,
    The moon pales. The loon wails
    Far down the river.
    And strong in the might of perfect delight,
    Fearless and bold with its wealth of gold,
    Stronger than sadness,
    Brighter than gladness,
    Mad with the madness
    Of victory won—
    Above night's gloom, above life's bloom,
    Higher and higher, like a passioned desire,
    To the highest height of earth's blinded sight
    Rises the sun,
    And the battle is done.

    Yet afar, unforgetting,
    Hid by the hill,
    Night awaits the day's setting,
    Revengeful and still.

  23. Dawn

    by John Charles McNeill

    The hills again reach skyward with a smile.
    Again, with waking life along its way,
    The landscape marches westward mile on mile
    And time throbs white into another day.

    Though eager life must wait on livelihood,
    And all our hopes be tethered to the mart,
    Lacking the eagle's wild, high freedom, would
    That ours might be this day the eagle's heart!

  24. A Gift

    by Leonora Speyer

    I Woke: —
    Night, lingering, poured upon the world
    Of drowsy hill and wood and lake
    Her moon-song,
    And the breeze accompanied with hushed fingers
    On the birches.

    Gently the dawn held out to me
    A golden handful of bird’s-notes.

  25. Each Dawn

    by Annette Wynne

    Each dawn before my eyes I see
    A shining new day spread for me;
    All trace of worn-out yesterday
    The winds of night have washed away.
    O let me use God's hand-work well—
    His glorious daily miracle!