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Edwin Markham Quote

Oft when the white still dawn lifted the skies and pushed the hills apart I have felt it like a glory in my heart.

Edwin Markham

Oft when the white still dawn lifted the skies and pushed the hills apart I have felt it like a glory in my heart.

Tags: mornings

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Snow endures but for a season and joy comes with the morning.

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Snow endures but for a season and joy comes with the morning.

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Our mornings were never "rise and shine." They were "rise and fight." They were loud and ravaging. They were heavy and unnerving, like the after-math of a war, with unresolved territorial disputes. Th...

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Each day is a new life. Seize it. Live it.

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Each day is a new life. Seize it. Live it.

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The day returns and brings us the petty round of irritating concerns and duties. Help us to play the man help us to perform them with laughter and kind faces let cheerfulness abound with industry. G...

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MORNINGTIDEThe wonderful works of morningtidebring the sight of luminous whiteness,a breathing whimsyamong wind-tossed sprigs of green.

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We are new every day.

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We are new every day.

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Each day is a little life: every waking and rising a little birth, every fresh morning a little youth, every going to rest and sleep a little death.

Arthur Schopenhauer

Each day is a little life: every waking and rising a little birth, every fresh morning a little youth, every going to rest and sleep a little death.

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There will be something anguish or elation that is peculiar to this day alone. I rise from sleep and say: Hail to the morning! Come down to me my beautiful unknown.

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There will be something anguish or elation that is peculiar to this day alone. I rise from sleep and say: Hail to the morning! Come down to me my beautiful unknown.

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A happy man eagerly awaits the rising of the sun.

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A happy man eagerly awaits the rising of the sun.

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Sunrise: day's great progenitor.

Emily Dickinson

Sunrise: day's great progenitor.

Tags: mornings
About Edwin Markham

Edwin Markham (born Charles Edward Anson Markham; April 23, 1852 – March 7, 1940) was an American poet. From 1923 to 1931 he was Poet Laureate of Oregon.