Dreams poems

/ page 145 of 232 /

Order by :

1
. . .
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
. . .
232

I Dreamed That in a City Dark as Paris

© Louis Simpson

I dreamed that in a city dark as Paris
I stood alone in a deserted square.
The night was trembling with a violet
Expectancy. At the far edge it moved
And rumbled; on that flickering horizon
The guns were pumping color in the sky.

Kiama

© Henry Kendall

Towards the hills of Jamberoo

Some few fantastic shadows haste,

Songs Of The Grass

© Bliss William Carman

I
On The Dunes
HERE all night on the dunes
In the rocking wind we sleep;

God Bless America

© John Fuller

When they confess that they have lost the penial bone and outer space is
Once again a numinous void, when they’re kept out of Other Places,
And Dr Fieser falls asleep at last and dreams of unburnt faces,
When gold medals are won by the ton for forgetting about the different races,
God Bless America.

Harvest

© William Matthews

A few rats are gnawing
along the floor of the silo,
but what are a few rats
against this tower of food?
It takes 75,000 crocus blossoms
to make a pound of saffron.

Waterloo Day

© Edith Nesbit

THIS is the day of our glory; this is our day to weep.
Under her dusty laurels England stirs in her sleep;
Dreams of her days of honour, terrible days that are dead,
Days of the making of story, days when the sword was red,

Gareth And Lynette

© Alfred Tennyson

To whom the mother said,
'True love, sweet son, had risked himself and climbed,
And handed down the golden treasure to him.'

Middle-Aged

© Ezra Pound

A STUDY IN AN EMOTION
"'Tis but a vague, invarious delight.
As gold that rains about some buried king.

The Threshold

© Robert Laurence Binyon

An Ode

I walked beside full--flooding Thames to--night

Music For The Dying

© Robert Fuller Murray

Ye who will help me in my dying pain,
Speak not a word: let all your voices cease.
Let me but hear some soft harmonious strain,
And I shall die at peace.

Black Vesper Pageants

© Madison Julius Cawein

The day, all fierce with carmine, turns
An Indian face towards Earth and dies;
The west, like some gaunt vase, inurns
Its ashes under smouldering skies,
Athwart whose bowl one red cloud streams,
Strange as a shape some Aztec dreams.

Old Spookses' Pass

© Isabella Valancy Crawford

I.

WE'D camped that night on Yaller Bull Flat,-

God of the Open Air

© Henry Van Dyke

But One, but One,-ah, child most dear,
And perfect image of the Love Unseen,-
Walked every day in pastures green,
And all his life the quiet waters by,
Reading their beauty with a tranquil eye.

Earth And Moon

I saw the day like some great monarch die,

Gold-couched, behind the clouds' rich tapestries.

The Phantom-Song

IN museful hours, when thoughts of grace divine
Roll wave-like up the stormless strand of dreams;--
When that which is grows vague as that which seems,--
I mark, far-off, a radiant shade incline

Sohrab and Rustum: An Episode

"Ferood, and ye, Persians and Tartars, hear!
Let there be truce between the hosts to-day.
But choose a champion from the Persian lords
To fight our champion Sohrab, man to man."