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Poem by Jones Very


The light will never open sightless eyes,
It comes to those who willingly would see;
And every object,hill, and stream, and skies,
Rejoice within th' encircling line to be;
'Tis day,the field is filled with busy hands,
The shop resounds with noisy workmen's din,
The traveller with his staff already stands
His yet unmeasured journey to begin;
The light breaks gently too within the breast,
Yet there no eye awaits the crimson morn,
The forge and noisy anvil are at rest,
Nor men nor oxen tread the fields of corn,
Nor pilgrim lifts his staff,it is no day
To those who find on earth their place to stay.

Jones Very

Poem Theme: Morning

Jones Very's other poems:
  1. Faith
  2. The Dead
  3. The New Birth
  4. The War
  5. Thy Brother's Blood

Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • John Keble Morning ("Hues of the rich unfolding morn")
  • Thomas Aird Morning ("Gray brindled dawn comes up before the sun")
  • Philip Bailey Morning ("She comes! how lovely are her smiles")
  • Thomas Gent Morning ("Light as the breeze that hails the infant morn")
  • Menella Smedley Morning ("How pleasant is the morning!")
  • Mary Robinson Morning ("OER fallow plains and fertile meads")

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