Dreams poems
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Passage to India.
© Walt Whitman
1
SINGING my days,
Singing the great achievements of the present,
Singing the strong, light works of engineers,
As I Sat Alone by Blue Ontarios Shores.
© Walt Whitman
1
AS I sat alone, by blue Ontarios shore,
As I mused of these mighty days, and of peace returnd, and the dead that return no
more,
When Lilacs Last in the Door-yard Bloomd.
© Walt Whitman
1
WHEN lilacs last in the door-yard bloomd,
And the great star early droopd in the western sky in the night,
I mourndand yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.
Wild Orphan
© Allen Ginsberg
so lonely growing up among
the imaginary automobiles
and dead souls of Tarrytown
Feb. 29, 1958
© Allen Ginsberg
Last nite I dreamed of T.S. Eliot
welcoming me to the land of dream
Sofas couches fog in England
Tea in his digs Chelsea rainbows
The Two Kings
© William Butler Yeats
King Eochaid came at sundown to a wood
Westward of Tara. Hurrying to his queen
He had outridden his war-wasted men
That with empounded cattle trod the mire,
To Some I Have Talked With By The Fire
© William Butler Yeats
While I wrought out these fitful Danaan rhymes,
My heart would brim with dreams about the times
When we bent down above the fading coals
And talked of the dark folk who live in souls
The Double Vision Of Michael Robartes
© William Butler Yeats
On the grey rock of Cashel the mind's eye
Has called up the cold spirits that are born
When the old moon is vanished from the sky
And the new still hides her horn.
The Shadowy Waters: Introductory Lines
© William Butler Yeats
I walked among the seven woods of Coole:
Shan-walla, where a willow-hordered pond
Gathers the wild duck from the winter dawn;
Shady Kyle-dortha; sunnier Kyle-na-no,
Shepherd And Goatherd
© William Butler Yeats
Shepherd. He that was best in every country sport
And every country craft, and of us all
Most courteous to slow age and hasty youth,
Is dead.
The Grey Rock
© William Butler Yeats
'The Danish troop was driven out
Between the dawn and dusk,' she said;
'Although the event was long in doubt.
Although the King of Ireland's dead
And half the kings, before sundown
All was accomplished.
Church And State
© William Butler Yeats
Here is fresh matter, poet,
Matter for old age meet;
Might of the Church and the State,
Their mobs put under their feet.
O but heart's wine shall run pure,
Mind's bread grow sweet.
The Three Beggars
© William Butler Yeats
'Though to my feathers in the wet,
I have stood here from break of day.
I have not found a thing to eat,
For only rubbish comes my way.
The Ballad Of The Foxhunter
© William Butler Yeats
'Lay me in a cushioned chair;
Carry me, ye four,
With cushions here and cushions there,
To see the world once more.
Two Songs From A Play
© William Butler Yeats
II saw a staring virgin stand
Where holy Dionysus died,
And tear the heart out of his side.
And lay the heart upon her hand
The Valley Of The Black Pig
© William Butler Yeats
The dews drop slowly and dreams gather: unknown spears
Suddenly hurtle before my dream-awakened eyes,
And then the clash of fallen horsemen and the cries
Of unknown perishing armies beat about my ears.
The Song Of The Happy Shepherd
© William Butler Yeats
The woods of Arcady are dead,
And over is their antique joy;
Of old the world on dreaming fed;
Grey Truth is now her painted toy;
The Lover Tells of the Rose in His Heart
© William Butler Yeats
All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old,The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart,The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould,Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart
The Secret Rose
© William Butler Yeats
Far-off, most secret, and inviolate Rose,
Enfold me in my hour of hours; where those
Who sought thee in the Holy Sepulchre,
Or in the wine-vat, dwell beyond the stir
The Wanderings of Oisin: Book I
© William Butler Yeats
S. Patrick. You who are bent, and bald, and blind,
With a heavy heart and a wandering mind,
Have known three centuries, poets sing,
Of dalliance with a demon thing.
