Thomas Love Peacock
The Morning of Love
O! The spring-time of life is the season of blooming,
And the morning of love is the season of joy;
Ere noontide and summer, with radiance consuming,
Look down on their beauty, to parch and destroy.
0! faint are the blossoms life's pathway adorning,
When the first magic glory of hope is withdrawn;
For the flowers of the spring, and the light of the morning,
Have no summer budding, and no second dawn.
Through meadows all sunshine, and verdure, and flowers
The stream of the valley in purity flies;
But mixed with the tides, where some proud city lowers,
O! where is the sweetness that dwelt on its rise ?
The rose withers fast-on the breast it first graces;
Its beauty is fled ere the day be half done:--
And life is that stream which its progress defaces,
And love is that flower which can bloom but for one.
Thomas Love Peacock's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (The Morning of Love by Thomas Love Peacock )
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- No Man Is An Island, John Donne
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- All the World's a Stage, William Shakespeare
- Alone, Maya Angelou
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
- Heather Burns
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(24 January 1572 - 31 March 1631)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)