Dreams poems
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The Choice Of Sweet Shy Clare
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Fair as a wreath of fresh spring flowers, a band of maidens lay
On the velvet swardenjoying the golden summer day;
And many a ringing silvry laugh on the calm air clearly fell,
With fancies sweet, which their rosy lips, half unwilling, seemed to tell.
The Rape Of Lucrece
© William Shakespeare
TO THE
RIGHT HONORABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY,
Earl of Southampton, and Baron of Tichfield.
The Pimpernel
© Celia Thaxter
SHE walks beside the silent shore,
The tide is high, the breeze is still;
Sunrise
© Sidney Lanier
I have waked, I have come, my beloved! I might not abide:
I have come ere the dawn, O beloved, my live-oaks, to hide
In your gospelling glooms, -- to be
As a lover in heaven, the marsh my marsh and the sea my sea.
The Opal Month
© Virna Sheard
Now cometh October--a nut-brown maid,
Who in robes of crimson and gold arrayed
Hath taken the king's highway!
On the world she smiles--but to me it seems
Her eyes are misty with mid-summer dreams,
Or memories of the May.
Aedh Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven
© William Butler Yeats
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
Tallulah Falls
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
ALONE with nature, where her passionate mood
Deepens and deepens, till from shadowy wood,
And sombre shore the blended voices sound
Of five infuriate torrents, wanly crowned
With such pale-misted foam as that which starts
To whitening lips from frenzied human hearts!
Vain Hope
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
Sometimes, to solace my sad heart, I say,
Though late it be, though lily-time be past,
Hidden Love
© Sara Teasdale
I hid the love within my heart,
And lit the laughter in my eyes,
That when we meet he may not know
My love that never dies.
Ode To Liberty
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Yet, Freedom, yet, thy banner, torn but flying,
Streams like a thunder-storm against the wind.--BYRON.
I.
A glorious people vibrated again
The Death Of Adam
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Cedars, that high upon the untrodden slopes
Of Lebanon stretch out their stubborn arms,
Through all the tempests of seven hundred years
Fast in their ancient place, where they look down
Delicious Beauty That Doth Lie
© John Marston
DELICIOUS Beauty, that doth lie
Wrapped in a skin of ivory,
Lie still, lie still upon thy back,
And, Fancy, let no sweet dreams lack
To tickle her, to tickle her with pleasing thoughts.
Christ In The Museum
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
BRONZE bells and incense burners, and a flight
Of birds born out of iron, and fine as spray;
On Some Rose Leaves Brought From The Vale Of Cashmere
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Faded and pale their beauty, vanished their early bloom,
Their folded leaves emit alone a sweet though faint perfume,
But, oh! than brightest bud or flower to me are they more dear,
They come from that rose-haunted land, the bright Vale of Cashmere.
The Magic Purse
© Madison Julius Cawein
WHAT is the gold of mortal-kind
To that men find
Deep in the poet's mind!
That magic purse
Ode To The Moon
© Thomas Hood
I
Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go
Over those hoary crests, divinely led!
Art thou that huntress of the silver bow,
The Golden Legend: III. A Street In Strasburg
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Crier of the dead (ringing a bell)._ Wake! wake!
All ye that sleep!
Pray for the Dead!
Pray for the Dead!
