8 Famous Poems About Dawn

1. The Dawn
   Poet: Althea Randolph
   
   I'm up and dressed while yet the World
   Is fast asleep in bed;
   Ofttimes I wear a skirt of blue,
   And ofttimes ruby red;
   About my waist I tie a sash
   Of golden streamers gay.
   And o'er my shoulders throw a scarf
   Of fleecy clouds of gray;
   Upon my head I place a crown
   Of opal rays of light.
   And as the Moon and Stars behold,
   They quickly take their flight!
   I carry in my hands joy-beams,
   To scatter on my way;
   And when I waken birds and flowers,
   They echo back, "Tis day!"
   Behind me comes the amber Sun, -
   Each morn he gives me chase.
   But never has he caught me yet
   In swift Aurora's race!




2. Dawn
   Poet: Ruth Lawrence
   
   Aurora bids the buds awake,
   And sends the winds abroad to play,
   To croon the rose a roundelay,
   To rouse the cricket in the brake;
   
   To ruffle up the placid lake,
   And trick the fields for holiday.
   Aurora bids the buds awake
   And sends the winds abroad to play.
   
   The willow waves its mantle gray,
   The almond boughs 'neath blossoms quake,
   They hail the coming of the day;
   With drowsy sweets the lilacs shake;
   Aurora bids the buds awake.







3. The Dawn Comes
    Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
   
   The night can seem so black
   Any hope we have seems under attack
   It is hard to see, the sky is so dark
   The stars are its only mark.
   
   But then the dawn comes
   Light shines upon our problems
   The sun comes up, the light we see
   The darkness gone, we are set free.
   
   The sky is full of color to amaze
   The clouds look like they are ablaze
   We have before us a new day
   The dawn can bring hope, many say.
   
   Appreciate the beauty, stop and look
   The sky can change your outlook.
   The first sign of light, the darkness disappears
   The morning dawn can erase our fears.
   
   Be thankful for this dawn, this day
   Be the best you can be in every way
   Good morning to the dawn this day
   Life is good, not just okay!







4. Dawn
   Poet: Ella Wheeler Wilcox
   
   Day’s sweetest moments are at dawn;
   Refreshed by his long sleep, the Light
   Kisses the languid lips of Night,
   Ere she can rise and hasten on.
   All glowing from his dreamless rest
   He holds her closely to his breast,
   Warm lip to lip and limb to limb,
   Until she dies for love of him.
   




5. The Brook
   Poet: Ruth Lawrence
   
   What does the brook say to you,
   At dawn when it flushes,
   And kisses the rushes.
   With murmurs and blushes?
   As it sings,
   Does it tell you of wonderful things,
   Till you think every wish must come true?
   
   For I do —
   What does the brook say to you?
   
   What does the brook say to you.
   When the sun hangs its head.
   When the west is all red,
   And the day is near sped?
   As it flows ;
   Does it promise surcease of all woes,
   Till you thrill with a hope that is new?
   
   For I do -
   What does the brook say to you?
   
   What does the brook say to you,
   When the moonlight in streams,
   Like a shower of dreams.
   On its dark surface gleams?
   As it sighs
   Does it bring faltering tears to your eyes.
   Till you long for forgiveness to sue?
   
   For I do -
   What does the brook say to you?
   
   Love, does the brook say to you.
   In the dark, in the light.
   In the day, in the night,
   In despair, in delight.
   As it rolls,
   That one are our hearts and our souls,
   For life, and eternity too?
   
   For I do.
   What does the brook say to you?




6. Dawn
   Poet: Richard W. Gilder
   
   The night was dark, though sometimes a faint star
   A little while a little space made bright.
   The night was long, and, like an iron bar,
   Lay heavy on the land: till o'er the sea
   Slowly, within the east, there grew a light
   Which half was starlight, and half seemed to be
   The herald of a greater. The pale white
   Turned slowly to pale rose, and up the height
   Of heaven slowly climbed. The gray sea grew
   Rose-colored like the sky. A white gull flew
   Straight toward the utmost boundary of the east,
   Where slowly the rose gathered and increased.
   It was as on the opening of a door
   By one that in his hand a lamp doth hold,
   Whose flame is hidden by the garment's fold -
   The still air moves, the wide room is less dim.
   
   More bright the east became; the ocean turned
   Dark and more dark against the brightening sky -
   Sharper against the sky the long sea-line.
   The hollows of the breakers on the shore
   Were green like leaves whereon no sun doth shine,
   Though white the outer branches of the tree.
   From rose to red the level heaven burned;
   Then sudden, as if a sword fell from on high,
   A blade of gold flashed on the horizon's rim.







7. Morning Among The Hills
   Poet: J. G. Percival
   
   A night had passed away among the hills,
   An now the first faint tokens of the dawn
   Showed in the east. The bright and dewy star
   Whose mission is to usher in the morn,
   Looked through the cool air, like a blessed thing
   In a far purer world; below, there lay,
   Wrapped round a woody mountain tranquilly,
   A misty cloud.
   
   Its edges caught the light
   That now came up from out the unseen depth
   Of the full fount of day, and they were laced
   With colors ever brightening. I had waked
   From a long sleep of many changing dreams,
   And now in the fresh forest air I stood,
   Nerved to another day of wandering.
   
   Below, there lay a far-extended sea,
   Rolling in feathery waves. The wind blew o'er it
   And tossed it round the high-ascending rocks,
   And swept it through the half-hidden forest-tops,
   Till, like an ocean waking into storm,
   It heaved and weltered. Gloriously the light
   Crested its billows, and those craggy islands
   Shone on it like to palaces of spar,
   Built on a sea of pearl.
   
   The sky bent round
   The awful dome of a most mighty temple,
   Built by Omnipotent hands, for nothing less
   Than infinite worship. There I stood in silence;
   I had no words to tell the mingled thoughts
   Of wonder and of joy which then came o'er me,
   Even with a whirlwind's rush.
   
   So beautiful,
   So bright, so glorious! Such a majesty
   In yon pure vault! So many dazzling tints
   In yonder waste of waves — so like the ocean
   With its unnumbered islands there encircled
   By foaming- surges.




8. Dawning Another Day
   Poet: Carlyle
   
   So here hath been dawning another blue day!
   Oh, mayst thou not let it slip useless away!
   
   Out of Eternity this new day was born;
   Into Eternity at night will return.
   
   Behold it aforetime no eye ever did
   So soon it forever from all eyes is hid.
   
   Here hath been dawning another blue day;
   Think, wilt thou let it slip useless away?