Explore "Breakfast" by Charles Lamb on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A dinner party, coffee, tea, / Sandwich, or supper, all may be / In their way pleasant. But to me / Not one of these deserves the praise / That welcomer of new-born days, / A breakfast, merits; ever giving / Cheerful notice we are living / Another day refresh'd by sleep, / When its festival we keep.
Now, although I would not slight / Those kindly words we use, "Good-night," / Yet parting words are words of sorrow, / And may not vie with sweet "Good-morrow," / With which again our friends we greet / When in the breakfast-room we meet, / At the social table round, / Listening to the lively sound / Of those notes which never tire / Of urn or kettle on the fire.