Sunday, December 22, 2024 Text is available under the CC BY-SA 3.0 licence.

Jean Ingelow

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To bear, to nurse, to rear,
To watch and then to lose,
To see my bright ones disappear,
Drawn up like morning dews.
--
"Songs of Seven. Seven times Six".

 
Jean Ingelow

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As though there were a tie
And obligation to posterity.
We get them, bear them, breed, and nurse:
What has posterity done for us.
That we, lest they their rights should lose,
Should trust our necks to gripe of noose?

 
John Trumbull
 

In the morning when you finally go
And the nurse runs in with her head hung low,
And the cardinal hits the window.
In the morning in the winter shade,
On the first of March, on the holiday,
I thought I saw you breathing.

 
Sufjan Stevens
 

First
Let the rockets flash and the cannon thunder,
This child is a marvel, a matchless wonder.
A staggering child, a child astounding,
Dazzling, diaperless, dumfounding,
Stupendous, miraculous, unsurpassed,
A child to stagger and flabbergast,
Bright as a button, sharp as a thorn,
And the only perfect one ever born.
Second
Arrived this evening at half-past nine.
Everybody is doing fine.
Is it a boy, or quite the reverse?
You can call in the morning and ask the nurse.

 
Ogden Nash
 

In New Mexico he always awoke a young man...Beautiful surroundings, the society of learned men, the charm of noble women, the graces of art, could not make up to him for the loss of those light-hearted mornings of the desert, for that wind that made one a boy again. He had noticed that this peculiar quality in the air of new countries vanished after they were tamed by man and made to bear harvests... That air would disappear from the whole earth in time, perhaps; but long after his day. He did not know just when it had become so necessary to him, but he had come back to die in exile for the sake of it. Something soft and wild and free, something that whispered to the ear on the pillow, lightened the heart, softly, softly picked the lock, slid the bolts, and released the prisoned spirit of man into the wind, into the blue and gold, into the morning, into the morning!

 
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I am the morning DJ... At W.O.L.D.
Playin' all the hits for you... Wherever you may be.
The bright good morning voice... Who is heard, but never seen!
Feelin' all of 45.... Goin' on 15.

 
Harry Chapin
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