Hoyt & Roberts, comps. Hoyt’s New Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations. 1922.
Morning
Sacrament of morning.
E. B. Browning—Sabbath at Sea. St. 6. Last Line.
The summer morn is bright and fresh, the birds are darting by
As if they loved to breast the breeze that sweeps the cool clear sky.
Bryant—Strange Lady.
The morn is up again, the dewy morn,
With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom,
Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn,
And living as if earth contained no tomb,—
And glowing into day.
Byron—Childe Harold. Canto III. St. 98.
Slow buds the pink dawn like a rose
From out night’s gray and cloudy sheath;
Softly and still it grows and grows,
Petal by petal, leaf by leaf.
Susan Coolidge—The Morning Comes Before the Sun.
Awake thee, my Lady-Love!
Wake thee, and rise!
The sun through the bower peeps
Into thine eyes.
George Darley—Sylvia; or, The May Queen. Act IV. Sc. 1.
I saw myself the lambent easy light
Gild the brown horror, and dispel the night.
Dryden—Hind and Panther. Pt. II. L. 1,230.
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn.
Gray—Elegy in a Country Churchyard. St. 5.
Now from the smooth deep ocean-stream the sun
Began to climb the heavens, and with new rays
Smote the surrounding fields.
Homer—Iliad. Bk. VII. L. 525. Bryant’s trans.
In saffron-colored mantle from the tides
Of Ocean rose the Morning to bright light
To gods and men.
Homer—Iliad. Bk. XIX. L. 1. Bryant’s trans.
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.
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.
A fine morning,
Nothing’s the matter with it that I know of.
I have seen better and I have seen worse.
Longfellow—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.
Longfellow—To-morrow.
Like pearl
Dropt from the opening eyelids of the morn
Upon the bashful rose.
Middleton—Game of Chess.
Under the opening eyelids of the morn.
Milton—Lycidas. L. 26.
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.
Milton—Lycidas. L. 171.
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest birds.
Milton—Paradise Lost. Bk. IV. L. 641.
Now morn, her rosy steps in th’ eastern clime
Advancing, sow’d the earth with Orient pearl.
Milton—Paradise Lost. Bk. V. L. 1.
Morn,
Wak’d by the circling hours, with rosy hand
Unbarr’d the gates of light.
Milton—Paradise Lost. Bk. VI. L. 2.
Till morning fair
Came forth with pilgrim steps in amice gray.
Milton—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 Müller—Lectures on the Science of Language. Sec. Series. P. 378. (Ed. 1864).
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.”)
If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea.
Psalms. CXXXIX. 9.
At length the morn and cold indifference came.
Rowe—Fair Penitent. Act I. 1.
Clothing the palpable and familiar
With golden exhalations of the dawn.
Schiller—The Death of Wallenstein. Act V. Sc. 1. Coleridge’s trans.
But with the morning cool reflection came.
Scott—Highland Widow. Introductory. Ch. IV.
But with the morning cool repentance came.
Scott—Rob Roy. Ch. XII.
But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,
Walks o’er the dew of yon high eastern hill.
Hamlet. Act I. Sc. 1. L. 166.
The day begins to break, and night is fled,
Whose pitchy mantle over-veil’d the earth.
Henry VI. Pt. I. Act II. Sc. 2. L. 1.
See how the morning opes her golden gates,
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun!
How well resembles it the prime of youth,
Trimm’d like a younker prancing to his love.
Henry VI. Pt. III. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 21.
An hour before the worshipp’d sun
Peer’d from the golden window of the east.
Romeo and Juliet. Act I. Sc. 1. L. 125.
The grey-ey’d morn smiles on the frowning night,
Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light.
Romeo and Juliet. Act II. Sc. 3. L. 1.
Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
Romeo and Juliet. Act III. Sc. 5. L. 9.
As when the golden sun salutes the morn,
And, having gilt the ocean with his beams,
Gallops the zodiac in his glistening coach.
Titus Andronicus. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 6.
The busy day,
Wak’d by the lark, hath rous’d the ribald crows,
And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer.
Troilus and Cressida. Act IV. Sc. 2. L. 8.
Hail, gentle Dawn! mild blushing goddess, hail!
Rejoic’d I see thy purple mantle spread
O’er half the skies, gems pave thy radiant way,
And orient pearls from ev’ry shrub depend.
Wm. Somerville—The Chase. Bk. II. L. 79.
Now the frosty stars are gone:
I have watched them one by one,
Fading on the shores of Dawn.
Round and full the glorious sun
Walks with level step the spray,
Through his vestibule of Day.
Bayard Taylor—And in the Cloven Pine.
And yonder fly his scattered golden arrows,
And smite the hills with day.
Bayard Taylor—The Poet’s Journal. Third Evening. Morning.
There in the windy flood of morning
Longing lifted its weight from me,
Lost as a sob in the midst of cheering,
Swept as a sea-bird out to sea.
Sara Teasdale—Leaves.
Rise, happy morn, rise, holy morn,
Draw forth the cheerful day from night;
O Father, touch the east, and light
The light that shone when Hope was born.
Tennyson—In Memoriam. Pt. XXX.
Morn in the white wake of the morning star
Came furrowing all the orient into gold.
Tennyson—The Princess. Pt. III. L. 1.
The meek-eyed Morn appears, mother of Dews.
Thomson—Seasons. Summer. L. 47.
The yellow fog came creeping down
The bridges, till the houses’ walls
Seemed changed to shadows, and St. Paul’s
Loomed like a bubble o’er the town.
Oscar Wilde—Impression du Matin.
And the fresh air of incense-breathing morn
Shall wooingly embrace it.
Wordsworth—Ecclesiastical Sonnets. XL.