Poems with rhymes of horn

O bless'd South wind that toots his horn
Through every hole and crack!
I'm off at eight to-morrow morn,

Oft listening how the hounds and horn
Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn,

And when the eve is born,
In the blue lake the sky, o'er-reaching far,
Is hollowed out and the moon dips her horn,

Heard the horse whinnying for his corn;
And, sharply clashing horn on horn,

I REMEMBER the lowering wintry morn,
And the mist on the Cotswold hills,
Where I once heard the blast of the huntsman's horn,

The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
The humble sheep a threat'ning horn:

Dismounting, then, he leaned against a thorn;
He had no follower, dog, nor man, nor boy:
He neither cracked his whip, nor blew his horn,

I love to rise in a summer morn
When the birds sing on every tree;
The distant huntsman winds his horn,

Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet 't is early morn:
Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the bugle-horn.

Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

(And the Corn don't care for the Horn)--
A-half Euphrates out of her bed
To water his dam' Corn!

So the loud laugh of scorn,
Out of those lips unshorn,
From the deep drinking-horn

Like the mellow blast of a horn,
And he strode o'er the fresh shorn meadows,
And down through the rows of corn.

51 Here in our hours of deeper stress reborn,
52 Unfortunate thrown upon life's evil ways,
53 His inward ear heard ever that satyr horn

Let husky wheat the haughs adorn,
An aits set up their awnie horn,

Gather the ranks, while shout and horn
Are o'er the distant mountains borne.

At Gundagai next morning (which poets call "th' morn")
The greybeards sought a doctor – a friend of the forlorn –
Whose name is as an angel's who sometimes blows a horn.

Two crouch in the bracken, two dodge in the corn,
But the fifth one as swift as the shadow of sin
Was away when he heard the first note of the horn.

19 Hath hundred winters past since thou wast born?
20 Or thousand since thou brakest thy shell of horn?

Have I not seen the loveliest woman born
Out of the mouth of plenty's horn,