Dreams poems
/ page 153 of 232 /Kiss Me, Katie!
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
KATIE, Katie, little Katie!
Mouth of rose and eyes of blue,
(Eyes that look one frankly through!)
When I'm absent don't you miss me?
The Power Of Words Oinos.
© Edgar Allan Poe
You have spoken nothing, my Oinos, for which pardon is to be
demanded. Not even here is knowledge a thing of intuition.
For wisdom, ask of the angels freely, that it may be given!
The Death Of The Poor
© Charles Baudelaire
It is Death, alas, persuades us to keep on living:
the goal of life and the only hope we have,
like an elixir, rousing, intoxicating, giving
the strength to march on towards the grave:
All White
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
All white, all light, all beautiful she stands,
Love in her eyes, a glory round her brows,
Blanched as the lilies chaste in her chaste hands.
Even so God's saints in their celestial house.
A Thing Of Beauty
© John Keats
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Don Juan: Canto The Tenth
© George Gordon Byron
When Newton saw an apple fall, he found
In that slight startle from his contemplation--
To A Beautiful Quaker
© George Gordon Byron
Sweet girl! though only once we met,
That meeting I shall ne'er forget;
A Slight Misunderstanding at the Jasper Gate
© Henry Lawson
Oh, do you hear the argument, far up above the skies?
The voice of old Saint Peter, in expostulation rise?
Truth
© William Cowper
Man, on the dubious waves of error toss'd,
His ship half founder'd, and his compass lost,
Cupid And Swallows Flying From Winter. By Dagley
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Where the sunny eyes whose beams
Waken'd me from my soft dreams?--
These are with the swallows gone,--
Beauty's heart is chill'd to stone.
The Prayer Of The Romans
© John Hay
Not done, but near its ending,
Is the work that our eyes desired;
The Complaint Of Ninathoma
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
How long will ye round me be swelling,
O ye blue-tumbling waves of the sea?
Not always in caves was my dwelling,
Nor beneath the cold blast of the tree.
Perkin Warbeck
© Lord Alfred Douglas
At Turney in Flanders I was born
Fore-doomed to splendour and sorrow,
For I was a king when they cut the corn,
And they strangle me to-morrow.
Samadhi
© Paramahansa Yogananda
Vanished are the veils of light and shade,
Lifted the vapors of sorrow,
The Vindictive
© Alfred Noyes
How should we praise those lads of the old Vindictive
Who looked Death straight in the eyes,
Till his gaze fell,
In those red gates of hell?
Anashuya And Vijaya
© William Butler Yeats
A little Indian temple in the Golden Age. Around it a garden;
around that the forest. Anashuya, the young priestess, kneeling
Winter Hue's Recalled
© Archibald Lampman
Life is not all for effort: there are hours,
When fancy breaks from the exacting will,
Palmyra (1st Edition)
© Thomas Love Peacock
--anankta ton pantôn huperbal-
lonta chronon makarôn.
Pindar. Hymn. frag. 33
Abandoned
© Madison Julius Cawein
The hornets build in plaster-dropping rooms,
And on its mossy porch the lizard lies;
An Ode For The Fourth Of July
© James Russell Lowell
Entranced I saw a vision in the cloud
That loitered dreaming in yon sunset sky,