Dreams poems
/ page 111 of 232 /The Secret
© Robert Laurence Binyon
I
I lay upon my bed in the great night:
The sense of my body drowsed;
But a clearness yet lingered in the spirit,
By soft obscurity housed.
Autumn Perspective
© Erica Jong
Now we plan, postponing, pushing our lives forward
into the future--as if, when the room
contains us and all our treasured junk
we will have filled whatever gap it is
that makes us wander, discontented
from ourselves.
Costanza
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
She knelt in prayer. A stream of sunset fell
Thro' the stain'd window of her lonely cell,
And with its rich, deep, melancholy glow
Flushing her cheek and pale Madonna brow,
XXXIV (You are the daughter of the sea)
© Pablo Neruda
You are the daughter of the sea, oregano's first cousin.
Swimmer, your body is pure as the water;
cook, your blood is quick as the soil.
Everything you do is full of flowers, rich with the earth.
Cat's Dream
© Pablo Neruda
I have seen how the cat asleep
Would undulate, how the night flowed
Through it like dark water and at times,
It was going to fall or possibly
Plunge into the bare deserted snowdrifts.
Beachy Head
© Charlotte Turner Smith
ON thy stupendous summit, rock sublime !
That o'er the channel rear'd, half way at sea
Castles In Spain. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fifth)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
How much of my young heart, O Spain,
Went out to thee in days of yore!
What dreams romantic filled my brain,
And summoned back to life again
The Paladins of Charlemagne,
The Cid Campeador!
The Bride.
© Robert Crawford
Her bridal dawn! her heart was fed
Last night with eerie food,
As, one by one, her lovers dead
Came in the solitude,
Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803
© William Wordsworth
Now we are tired of boisterous joy,
Have romped enough, my little Boy!
Jane hangs her head upon my breast,
And you shall bring your stool and rest;
This corner is your own.
The Missionary - Canto Third
© William Lisle Bowles
Come,--for the sun yet hangs above the bay,--
And whilst our time may brook a brief delay
Voyagers
© Madison Julius Cawein
Where are they, that song and tale
Tell of? lands our childhood knew?
Sea-locked Faerylands that trail
Morning summits, dim with dew,
Crimson o'er a crimson sail.
Spread the Truth!
© Henry Lawson
BRAVE the anger of the wealthy! Scorn their bitter lying spite!
Tell the Truth in simple language, when you know that you are right!
And theyll read it by the slush-lamps in the station huts at night,
An Old Sweetheart Of Mine
© James Whitcomb Riley
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone,
And muses on the faces of the friends that he has known,
So I turn the leaves of Fancy, till in shadowy design
I find the smiling features of an old sweetheart of mine.
The Seasons: Winter
© James Thomson
OH! bear me then to high, embowering, Shades;
To twilight Groves, and visionary Vales;
To weeping Grottos, and to hoary Caves;
Where Angel-Forms are seen, and Voices heard,
Sigh'd in low Whispers, that abstract the Soul,
From outward Sense, far into Worlds remote.
Julian and Maddalo : A Conversation
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I rode one evening with Count Maddalo
Upon the bank of land which breaks the flow
Of Adria towards Venice: a bare strand
Of hillocks, heaped from ever-shifting sand,
Afternoon At A Parsonage
© Jean Ingelow
Preface.
What wonder man should fail to stay
A nursling wafted from above,
The growth celestial come astray,
That tender growth whose name is Love!
Athens: An Ode
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
ERE from under earth again like fire the violet kindle, [Str. I.
Ere the holy buds and hoar on olive-branches bloom,