Dreams poems
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The Crown Of Life
© Edith Nesbit
THE days, the doubts, the dreams of pain
Are over, not to come again,
And from the menace of the night
Has dawned the day-star of delight:
My baby lies against me pressed--
Thus, Mother of God, are mothers blessed!
Sonnet XXXIX: Sleepless Dreams
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Girt in dark growths, yet glimmering with one star,
O night desirous as the nights of youth!
Sonnet To The Moon
© Yvor Winters
Now every leaf, though colorless, burns bright
With disembodied and celestial light,
And drops without a movement or a sound
A pillar of darkness to the shifting ground.
25. My Father was a Farmer: A Ballad
© Robert Burns
MY father was a farmer upon the Carrick border, O,
And carefully he bred me in decency and order, O;
He bade me act a manly part, though I had neer a farthing, O;
For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding, O.
On Australian Hills
© Ada Cambridge
Oh, to be there to-night!
To see that rose of sunset flame and fade
On ghostly mountain height,
The soft dusk gathering each leaf and blade
From the departing light,
Each tree-fern feather of the wildwood glade.
Child And Father
© Madison Julius Cawein
A LITTLE child, one night, awoke and cried,
"Oh, help me, father! there is something wild
Before me! help me!" Hurrying to his side
I answered, "I am here. You dreamed, my child."
Life Is A Dream - Act II
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
CLOTALDO. Reasons fail me not to show
That the experiment may not answer;
But there is no remedy now,
For a sign from the apartment
Tells me that he hath awoken
And even hitherward advances.
Transcience
© Sarojini Naidu
Nay, do not grieve tho' life be full of sadness,
Dawn will not veil her spleandor for your grief,
Nor spring deny their bright, appointed beauty
To lotus blossom and ashoka leaf.
To The God of Pain
© Sarojini Naidu
For thy dark altars, balm nor milk nor rice,
But mine own soul thou'st ta'en for sacrifice:
At A Funeral
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
I loved her too, this woman who is dead.
Look in my face. I have a right to go
And see the place where you have made her bed
Among the snow.
To A Happy Warrior
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Glory to God who made a man like this!
To God be praise who in the empty heaven
Set Earth's gay globe
With its green vesture given
Life
© Sarojini Naidu
CHILDREN, ye have not lived, to you it seems
Life is a lovely stalactite of dreams,
Or carnival of careless joys that leap
About your hearts like billows on the deep
In flames of amber and of amethyst.
Autumn Song
© Sarojini Naidu
Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow,
The sunset hangs on a cloud;
A golden storm of glittering sheaves,
Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves,
The wild wind blows in a cloud.
The Fruit-Gift
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Last night, just as the tints of autumn's sky
Of sunset faded from our hills and streams,
I sat, vague listening, lapped in twilight dreams,
To the leaf's rustle, and the cricket's cry.
Alabaster
© Sarojini Naidu
LIKE this alabaster box whose art
Is frail as a cassia-flower, is my heart,
Carven with delicate dreams and wrought
With many a subtle and exquisite thought.
Rivulose
© Archie Randolph Ammons
You think the ridge hills flowing, breaking
with ups and downs will, though,
building constancy into the black foreground
Thoughts of Phena at the News of Her Death
© Thomas Hardy
Not a line of her writing have I
Not a thread of her hair,
Shit List; Or, Omnium-gatherum Of Diversity Into Unity
© Archie Randolph Ammons
You'll rejoice at how many kinds of shit there are:
gosling shit (which J. Williams said something
was as green as), fish shit (the generality), trout
Called Into Play
© Archie Randolph Ammons
Fall fell: so that's it for the leaf poetry:
some flurries have whitened the edges of roadsand lawns: time for that, the snow stuff: &
turkeys and old St. Nick: where am I going tofind something to write about I haven't already
written away: I will have to stop short, lookdown, look up, look close, think, think, think:
Night
© James Montgomery
Night is the time for rest;
How sweet, when labors close,
To gather round an aching breast
The curtain of repose,
Stretch the tired limbs, and lay the head
Down on our own delightful bed!
