Dreams poems

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Hesperia

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

OUT OF the golden remote wild west where the sea without shore is,

Full of the sunset, and sad, if at all, with the fulness of joy,

Farewell, My Loved One!

© Henry Clay Work

Farewell, my loved one!
Yet once more
Let me press you to my heart;
Once, our Fate, with cruel fingers,
Tears our souls apart.

The House Of Dust: Part 01: 07:

'The bells have just struck twelve: I should be sleeping.
But I cannot delay any longer to write and tell you.
The woman is dead.
She diedyou know the way. Just as we planned.
Smiling, with open sunlit eyes.
Smiling upon the outstretched fatal hand . . .'

Paracelsus: Part IV: Paracelsus Aspires

© Robert Browning

Festus.
So strange
That I must hope, indeed, your messenger
Has mingled his own fancies with the words
Purporting to be yours.

In The Harbour: The City And The Sea

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Life-giving, death-giving, which will it be;
O breath of the merciful, merciless Sea?

The Pool

© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall

Here in the night all wonders are,
Lapped in the lift of the ripple's swing,
A silver shell and a shaken star,
And a white moth's wing.
Here the young moon when the mists unclose
Swims like the bud of a golden rose.

The Iron Horse

© James Whitcomb Riley

No song is mine of Arab steed--
My courser is of nobler blood,
And cleaner limb and fleeter speed,
And greater strength and hardihood
Than ever cantered wild and free
Across the plains of Araby.

The Unknown Soldier

© Angela Morgan

He is known to the sun-white Majesties

Who stand at the gates of dawn.

The Old Man Dreams

© Madison Julius Cawein

The blackened walnut in its spicy hull

Rots where it fell;

The Wind And The Whirlwind

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

I have a thing to say. But how to say it?
I have a cause to plead. But to what ears?
How shall I move a world by lamentation,
A world which heeded not a Nation's tears?

To Imagination

© Emily Jane Brontë

When weary with the long day's care,
And earthly change from pain to pain,
And lost, and ready to despair,
Thy kind voice calls me back again:
Oh, my true friend! I am not lone,
While then canst speak with such a tone!

Appearances

© Lesbia Harford

I hated them when I was four years old,
The bright pink berries on the pepper tree.
And now they seem quite beautiful to me.
My tower of dreams when I was four years old

Grandfather, Grandfather

© George Barker

Grandfather, Grandfather,

what do pandas say?

Weary

Here, in the silent churchyard, 'mid a thousand dead, alone,

Weary I sit for a moment clasping this cross of stone,

Valkyriur Song

The Sea-king woke from the troubled sleep

Of a vision-haunted night,

The Conversation Of Eiros And Charmion

Dreams are with us no more;but of these mysteries
anon. I rejoice to see you looking life-like and rational.
The film of the shadow has already passed from off your
eyes. Be of heart, and fear nothing. Your allotted days of
stupor have expired, and to-morrow I will myself induct you
into the full joys and wonders of your novel existence.

Comfort of the Fields

What would'st thou have for easement after grief,
When the rude world hath used thee with despite,
And care sits at thine elbow day and night,
Filching thy pleasures like a subtle thief?

The Tower of the Dream

But not thus always are our dreams benign;
Oft are they miscreationsgloomier worlds,
Crowded tempestuously with wrongs and fears,
More ghastly than the actual ever knew,
And rent with racking noises, such as should
Go thundering only through the wastes of hell.