Dreams poems
/ page 136 of 232 /
To Mr. [S.T.] C[oleridge]
© Bliss William Carman
Midway the hill of science, after steep
And rugged paths that tire the unpractised feet,
Medea in Athens
© Augusta Davies Webster
Dimly I recall
some prophecy a god breathed by my mouth.
It could not err. What was it? For I think;-
it told his death¹.
The Singer
© James Whitcomb Riley
While with Ambition's hectic flame
He wastes the midnight oil,
And dreams, high-throned on heights of fame,
To rest him from his toil,--
The Affliction of Richard
© John Hall Wheelock
Love not too much. But how,
When thou hast made me such,
Sibyl
© John Howard Payne
THIS is the glamour of the world antique:
The thyme-scents of Hymettus fill the air,
Sonnet XXX: Last Fire
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Love,through your spirit and mine what summer eve
Now glows with glory of all things possess'd,
Intimations Of The Beautiful
© Madison Julius Cawein
The hills are full of prophecies
And ancient voices of the dead;
Of hidden shapes that no man sees,
Pale, visionary presences,
That speak the things no tongue hath said,
No mind hath thought, no eye hath read.
To -- --
© Edgar Allan Poe
Not long ago, the writer of these lines,
In the mad pride of intellectuality,
Despair
© Edith Nesbit
SMILE on me, mouth of red--so much too red,
Shine on me, eyes which darkened lashes shade,
The Spirit Of The Snow
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
The night brings forth the morn-
Of the cloud is lightning born;
From out the darkest earth the brightest roses grow.
Bright sparks from black flints fly,
And from out a leaden sky
Comes the silvery-footed Spirit of the Snow.
Mozart's Requiem
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Not so, it is not so!
The warning voice I know,
From other worlds a strange mysterious tone;
A solemn funeral air
It call'd me to prepare,
And my heart answer'd secretly my own!
Pauline, A Fragment of a Question
© Robert Browning
And I can love nothing-and this dull truth
Has come the last: but sense supplies a love
Encircling me and mingling with my life.
A Psalm of Freudian Life
© Edwin Morgan
Tell me not in mormonful numbers
“Life is but an empty dream!”
To a student of the slumbers
Things are never what they seem.
For Una
© Robinson Jeffers
I built her a tower when I was young—
Sometime she will die—
I built it with my hands, I hung
Stones in the sky.
Madeline. A Domestic Tale
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
My child, my child, thou leav'st me!âI shall hear
The gentle voice no more that blest mine ear
Martha
© Lesbia Harford
Sometimes I lose
My power of loving for an hour or two,
Then I misuse
My knowledge of friends' secrets to abuse
The Yellowhammer's Nest
© John Clare
Just by the wooden brig a bird flew up,
Frit by the cowboy as he scrambled down
