Dreams poems
/ page 161 of 232 /
The Garden Of Dreams
© Madison Julius Cawein
Not while I live may I forget
That garden which my spirit trod!
Where dreams were flowers, wild and wet,
And beautiful as God.
Slumberland Time
© Edgar Albert Guest
IT is Slumberland time, and the storms have passed by,
And the sea is now golden and still,
To Henry W. Longfellow
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I THINK earth's noblest, most pathetic sight
Is some old poet, round whose laurel-crown
The long gray locks are streaming softly down;--
Whose evening, touched by prescient shades of night,
The Landing
© Padraic Colum
THE great ship lantern-girdled.
The tender standing by;
The waning stars cloud-shrouded,
The land that we descry!
Recollections Of Cornwall
© Robert Laurence Binyon
To R. G. R. and H. P. P.
Let not the mind, that would have peace,
Too much repose on former joy,
Nor in pourtraying past delight
Her needed, active power employ!
Last Eve
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
birds, it is over and done, your last passion has paled;
The world has no place for your flight nor my heart for your screams.
O hopes that were hopeless, sweet dreams that were ever as dreams,
Let go! get back to your graves, you have fought and have failed.
Grey Hours: Naples
© Arthur Symons
There are some hours when I seem so indifferent; all things fade
To an indifferent greyness, like that grey of the sky;
The Four Wishes
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Father! a youthful hero said, bending his lofty brow
On the world wide I must go forththen bless me, bless me, now!
And, ere I shall return oh say, what goal must I have won
What is the aim, the prize, that most thou wishest for thy son?
A Pastoral
© George Essex Evans
Nature feels the touch of noon;
Not a rustle stirs the grass;
Not a shadow flecks the sky,
Save the brown hawk hovering nigh;
Not a ripple dims the glass
Of the wide lagoon.
Lord Of My Life
© Rabindranath Tagore
Didst thou store my days and nights,
my deeds and dreams for the alchemy of thy art,
and string in the chain of thy music my songs of autumn and spring,
and gather the flowers from my mature moments for thy crown?
Bare Boughs
© Madison Julius Cawein
O heart,-that beat the bird's blithe blood,
The blithe bird's strain, and understood
The song it sang to leaf and bud,-
What dost thou in the wood?
Grandmother's Story Of Bunker Hill Battle (as she saw it from the Belfry)
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
'Tis like stirring living embers when, at eighty, one remembers
All the achings and the quakings of "the times that tried men's souls";
When I talk of Whig and Tory, when I tell the Rebel story,
To you the words are ashes, but to me they're burning coals.
An Epistle To A Friend
© Samuel Rogers
When, with a Reaumur's skill, thy curious mind
Has class'd the insect-tribes of human-kind,
Each with its busy hum, or gilded wing,
Its subtle, web-work, or its venom'd sting;
Love: An Elegy
© Mark Akenside
At last the visionary scenes decay,
My eyes, exulting, bless the new-born day,
Whose faithful beams detect the dangerous road
In which my heedless feet securely trod,
And strip the phantoms of their lying charms
That lur'd my soul from Wisdom's peaceful arms.
A Sketch
© Fitz-Greene Halleck
HER Leghorn hat was of the bright gold tint
The setting sunbeams give to autumn clouds;
The ribband that encircled it as blue
As spots of sky upon a moonless night,
The Old House
© Madison Julius Cawein
Quaint and forgotten, by an unused road,
An old house stands: around its doors the dense
Blue iron-weeds grow high;
The chipmunks make a highway of its fence;
And on its sunken flagstones slug and toad
Silent as lichens lie.
Tatiana's Letter
© Alexander Pushkin
Allotted unto you was I
E'en from the moment of my birth
And loyal to my future fate;
And God, I know, sent you to be
My champion and my advocate
Till the grave closes over me. . . .
Lights Along the Mile
© Alfred Thomas Chandler
THE NIGHT descends in glory, and adown the purple west
The young moon, like a crescent skiff, upon some fairy quest,
