A collection of literature adorning the morning


Morning – Extract from Walden by Henry D Thoreau

Every morning was a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal simplicity, and I may say innocence, with Nature herself. I have been as sincere a worshiper of Aurora as the Greeks. I got up early and bathed in the pond; that was a religious exercise, and one of the best things which I did. They say that characters were engraved on the bathing tub of King Tching-thang to this effect: “Renew thyself completely each day; do it again, and again, and forever again.” I can understand that. Morning brings back the heroic ages.


That man who does not believe that each day contains an earlier, more sacred and auroral hour than he has yet profaned, has despaired of life, and is pursuing a descending and darkening way. After a partial cessation of his sensuous life, the soul of man, or its organs rather, are reinvigorated each day, and his Genius tries again what noble life it can make. All memorable events, I should say, transpire in morning time and in a morning atmosphere. The Vedas say, “All intelligences awake with the morning.” Poetry and art, and the fairest and most memorable of the actions of men, date from such an hour. All poets and heroes, like Memnon, are the children of Aurora, and emit their music at sunrise. To him whole elastic and vigorous thought keeps pace with the sun, the day is a perpetual morning. It matters not what the clocks say or the attitudes and labors of men. Morning is when I’m awake and there is dawn in me.


The millions are awake enough for physical labor; but only one in a million is awake enough for effective intellectual exertion, only one in a hundred million to a poetic or divine life. To be awake is to be alive. I have never yet met a man who was quite awake. How could I have looked him in the face.


We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aids, but by an infinite expectation of the dawn, which does not forsake us in our soundest sleep. I know no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by a conscious endeavour.

The Morning (a short poem 2011)


A bouquet of ballads brace dawns becoming

Quill bearing creatures quell the dull night’s quietude

Fauna flurry harmoniously with earth’s flourishing flora

Confusion, comprehension of illusion, coalesce slumbers conclusion

Illusive images disregarded, dreamers dreary delusions dismissed

Dare resist the dominant desire for drowsy indulgence

Excessive ease in early hours, an erroneous endeavor

Energy, an essential element for ecstatic emergence

Buoyancy, basking in boundless beauty of beginnings

Breathing with birds and beasts as they feast Dawn’s fragrance, filling souls with fortitude for the forthcoming day Dawn’s light, illuminating land’s breathtaking array

Personified she is perfection, her perfume, an impeccable pleasure Warm and welcoming her embrace of which no other would replace
An affinity adored by the alert and awakened As smiling strangers stroll, sharing salutations

Behold, solely the birth of sunlight begets such abundant benevolence Masses on mattress unmindful of morning’s magnanimous magnificence

Thank You

Sonnie Abdalla – 13/08/11
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The Morning Light