Careful Words

morn (n.)

At length the morn and cold indifference came.

Nicholas Rowe (1673-1718): The Fair Penitent. Act i. Sc. 1.

The chariest maid is prodigal enough,

If she unmask her beauty to the moon:

Virtue itself'scapes not calumnious strokes:

The canker galls the infants of the spring

Too oft before their buttons be disclosed,

And in the morn and liquid dew of youth

Contagious blastments are most imminent.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 3.

The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear

So charming left his voice, that he awhile

Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 1.

Cheerful at morn, he wakes from short repose,

Breasts the keen air, and carols as he goes.

Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774): The Traveller. Line 185.

Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows;

While proudly riding o'er the azure realm

In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes,

Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;

Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,

That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.

Thomas Gray (1716-1771): The Bard. II. 2, Line 9.

  The morn, look you, furthers a man on his road, and furthers him too in his work.

Hesiod (Circa 720 (?) b c): Works and Days. Line 579.

There shall he love when genial morn appears,

Like pensive Beauty smiling in her tears.

Thomas Campbell (1777-1844): Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 95.

She stood breast-high amid the corn

Clasp'd by the golden light of morn,

Like the sweetheart of the sun,

Who many a glowing kiss had won.

Thomas Hood (1798-1845): Ruth.

Now morn, her rosy steps in th' eastern clime

Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl,

When Adam wak'd, so custom'd; for his sleep

Was aery light, from pure digestion bred.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 1.

So have I heard, and do in part believe it.

But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,

Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 1.

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn.

Thomas Gray (1716-1771): Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 5.

Take, O, take those lips away,

That so sweetly were forsworn;

And those eyes, the break of day,

Lights that do mislead the morn:

But my kisses bring again, bring again;

Seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Measure for Measure. Act iv. Sc. 1.

The sun had long since in the lap

Of Thetis taken out his nap,

And, like a lobster boil'd, the morn

From black to red began to turn.

Samuel Butler (1600-1680): Hudibras. Part ii. Canto ii. Line 29.

Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834): A Christmas Carol. viii.

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 Jefferys (1807-1865): Mary of Argyle.

The meek-ey'd Morn appears, mother of dews.

James Thomson (1700-1748): The Seasons. Summer. Line 47.

No sun, no moon, no morn, no noon,

No dawn, no dusk, no proper time of day,

 .   .   .   .   .

No road, no street, no t' other side the way,

 .   .   .   .   .

No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,

No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no buds.

Thomas Hood (1798-1845): November.

How at heaven's gates she claps her wings,

The morne not waking til she sings.

John Lyly (Circa 1553-1601): Cupid and Campaspe. Act v. Sc. 1.

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,

Morn of toil nor night of waking.

Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832): Lady of the Lake. Canto i. Stanza 31.

Ere the blabbing eastern scout,

The nice morn, on th' Indian steep

From her cabin'd loop-hole peep.

John Milton (1608-1674): Comus. Line 138.

One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,

Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree:

Another came; nor yet beside the rill,

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.

Thomas Gray (1716-1771): Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 28.

Under the opening eyelids of the morn.

John Milton (1608-1674): Lycidas. Line 26.

Another morn

Ris'n on mid-noon.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 310.

Another morn

Risen on mid-noon.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): The Prelude. Book vi.

The early village cock

Hath twice done salutation to the morn.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.

'T is always morning somewhere in the world.

Richard Hengest Horne (1803-1884): Orion. Book iii. Canto ii. (1843.)

No radiant pearl which crested Fortune wears,

No gem that twinkling hangs from Beauty's ears,

Not the bright stars which Night's blue arch adorn,

Nor rising suns that gild the vernal morn,

Shine with such lustre as the tear that flows

Down Virtue's manly cheek for others' woes.

Erasmus Darwin (1731-1802): The Botanic Garden. Part ii. Canto iii. Line 459.

Thus with the year

Seasons return; but not to me returns

Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn,

Or sight of vernal bloom or summer's rose,

Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;

But cloud instead, and ever-during dark

Surrounds me; from the cheerful ways of men

Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair

Presented with a universal blank

Of Nature's works, to me expung'd and raz'd,

And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book iii. Line 40.

With thee conversing I forget all time,

All seasons, and their change,—all please alike.

Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,

With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun

When first on this delightful land he spreads

His orient beams on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,

Glist'ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earth

After soft showers; and sweet the coming on

Of grateful ev'ning mild; then silent night

With this her solemn bird and this fair moon,

And these the gems of heaven, her starry train:

But neither breath of morn when she ascends

With charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun

On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower,

Glist'ring with dew, nor fragrance after showers,

Nor grateful ev'ning mild, nor silent night

With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon

Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 639.

There was a jolly miller once,

Lived on the river Dee;

He worked and sung from morn till night:

No lark more blithe than he.

Isaac Bickerstaff (1735-1787): Love in a Village. Act i. Sc. 2.

From morn

To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,—

A summer's day; and with the setting sun

Dropp'd from the Zenith like a falling star.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 742.

It is for homely features to keep home,—

They had their name thence; coarse complexions

And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply

The sampler and to tease the huswife's wool.

What need a vermeil-tinctur'd lip for that,

Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn?

John Milton (1608-1674): Comus. Line 748.

Morn,

Wak'd by the circling hours, with rosy hand

Unbarr'd the gates of light.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book vi. Line 2.

The morn was fair, the skies were clear,

No breath came o'er the sea.

Charles Jefferys (1807-1865): The Rose of Allandale.

Morn,

Wak'd by the circling hours, with rosy hand

Unbarr'd the gates of light.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book vi. Line 2.

But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn,

And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.

Thomas Campbell (1777-1844): The Soldier's Dream.