Dreams poems
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The Rain And The Wind
© William Ernest Henley
The rain and the wind, the wind and the rain -
They are with us like a disease:
The White Doe Of Rylstone, Or, The Fate Of The Nortons - Canto First
© William Wordsworth
FROM Bolton's old monastic tower
The bells ring loud with gladsome power;
The sun shines bright; the fields are gay
With people in their best array
The Screech-Owl
© Madison Julius Cawein
When, one by one, the stars have trembled through
Eve's shadowy hues of violet, rose, and fire--
Quare Fatigasti
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
Two years ago I was thinking
On the changes that years bring forth;
The Golden Legend: II. A Farm In The Odenwald
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Elsie._ Here are flowers for you,
But they are not all for you.
Some of them are for the Virgin
And for Saint Cecilia.
To Idleness
© Harriet Monroe
Sweet Idleness, you linger at the door
To lead me down through meadows cool with shade
Der Freischutz
© Madison Julius Cawein
He? why, a tall Franconian strong and young,
Brown as a walnut the first frost hath hulled;
Songs Of Seven (complete)
© Jean Ingelow
There’s no dew left on the daisies and clover,
There’s no rain left in heaven:
I’ve said my “seven times” over and over,
Seven times one are seven.
Make Me No Grave
© Henry Herbert Knibbs
Make me no grave within that quiet place
Where friends shall sadly view the grassy mound,
Politely solemn for a little space,
As though the spirit slept beneath the ground.
No Children!
© Edgar Albert Guest
No children in the house to play-
It must be hard to live that way!
Sea-Shore Musings
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
How oft Ive longed to gaze on thee,
Thou proud and mighty deep!
Mountains
© Henry Kendall
Rifted mountains, clad with forests, girded round by gleaming pines,
Where the morning, like an angel, robed in golden splendour shines;
Hymn of Apollo
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
The sleepless Hours who watch me as I lie,
Curtained with star-inwoven tapestries,
From the broad moonlight of the sky,
The Little White Rabbit
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
May I go to the field, said the little white rabbit,
Where the corn grows sweet and high?
America
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Men say, Columbia, we shall hear thy guns.
But in what tongue shall be thy battle-cry?
The war Widow
© Alfred Noyes
Black-veiled, black-gowned, she rides in bus and train,
With eyes that fill too listlessly for tears.
Her waxen hands clasp and unclasp again.
_Good News_, they cry. She neither sees nor hears.
Shakespeare
© Peter McArthur
I MAY not tell what hidden springs I find
Of living beauty in this deathless page,
The Chestnut
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Who enters here, beneath this guardian shade,
Feels over him a tender sky of leaves
Dearer than heaven: at once his eye receives
Strange quiet: fathomless as water swayed
