Dreams poems

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WAKE, do you wake in the dark in the strange far place,
Window and door not set like the ones we knew,
Leaning your face through the dark for another face,
Stretching your arms to the arms that are far from you,
Even as I, through the depth of this darkness, do?

I Explain A Few Things

© Pablo Neruda

You are going to ask: and where are the lilacs?
and the poppy-petalled metaphysics?
and the rain repeatedly spattering
its words and drilling them full
of apertures and birds?
I'll tell you all the news.

The Girl I Left Behind Me

© Henry Kendall

With sweet Regret (the dearest thing that Yesterday has left us)
We often turn our homeless eyes to scenes whence Fate has reft us.
Here sitting by a fading flame, wild waifs of song remind me
Of Annie with her gentle ways, the Girl I left behind me.

A Dream Of Long Ago

© James Whitcomb Riley

Lying listless in the mosses

Underneath a tree that tosses

Occasion'd By Seeing Some Verses Written By Mrs. Constantia Grierson, Upon The Death Of Her Son.

© Mary Barber

Soften, kind Heav'n, her seeming rigid Fate,
With frequent Visions of his blissful State:
Oft let the Guardian Angel of her Son
Tell her in faithful Dreams, His Task is done;
Shew, how he kindly led her lovely Boy
To Realms of Peace, and never--fading Joy.

Linda To Hafed

© Thomas Moore

FROM "THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS."

Choriambics -- II

© Rupert Brooke

Here the flame that was ash, shrine that was void,

lost in the haunted wood,

At Nightfall

© Frederick George Scott

O little hands, long vanished in the night-

Sweet fairy hands that were my treasure here-

Among the Hills

© John Greenleaf Whittier

Through Sandwich notch the west-wind sang
Good morrow to the cotter;
And once again Chocoruas horn
Of shadow pierced the water.

The Minstrel

© Arthur Henry Adams

An Incident in One Act.
PERSONS. THE KING, THE QUEEN, EARL ATHULF, THE MINSTREL.
Heralds, Pages, Men-at-Arms, Sentries. TIME: THE PAST.
SCENE:

Cherish You Then The Hope I Shall Forget

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Cherish you then the hope I shall forget

At length, my lord, Pieria?put away

The Farmer's Boy - Summer

© Robert Bloomfield

Here, midst the boldest triumphs of her worth,
NATURE herself invites the REAPERS forth;
Dares the keen sickle from its twelvemonth's rest,
And gives that ardour which in every breast
From infancy to age alike appears,
When the first sheaf its plumy top uprears.

Ardella

© Langston Hughes

I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.

She Is So Much

© Madison Julius Cawein

She is so much to me, to me,

And, oh! I love her so,

The Passionate Poet

© Frank Morton

I dearly long -- perhaps you've learned
The process, and will let me know it --
To stop a fierce and curdling wail
And muzzle a forsaken poet.

Summer Dawn.

Come with thy feet to the water, and bathe
Thy beauty here in the stream that will not pass!
The soft green leaves with their shadows swathe
The either bank, and under the ferns and grass

A Similitude

FAIR as the nightwhen all the astral fires

Of heaven are burning in the clear expanse,

Cui Bono?

A CLAMOUR by day and a whisper by night,
And the Summer comeswith the shining noons,
With the ripple of leaves, and the passionate light
Of the falling suns and the rising moons.

Tale XIII

hall,
Sires, sons, and sons of sons, were buried all,
She then abounded, and had wealth to spare
For softening grief she once was doom'd to share;
Thus train'd in misery's school, and taught to