Dreams poems
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The Dunciad: Book II.
© Alexander Pope
Not with more glee, by hands Pontific crown'd,
With scarlet hats wide-waving circled round,
Rome in her Capitol saw Querno sit,
Throned on seven hills, the Antichrist of wit.
L'Ennemi (The Enemy)
© Charles Baudelaire
Ma jeunesse ne fut qu'un ténébreux orage,
Traversé çà et là par de brillants soleils;
Le tonnerre et la pluie ont fait un tel ravage,
Qu'il reste en mon jardin bien peu de fruits vermeils.
Sonnet XXIX
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
My weary life, that lives unsatisfied
On the foiled off-brink of being e'er but this,
Violets
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
A GUSTY wind o'ersweeps the garden close,
And, where the jonquil, with the white-rod glows,
Riots like some rude hoyden uncontrolled.
But here, where sunshine and coy shadows meet,
Out gleam the tender eyes of violets sweet,
Touched by the vapory noontide's fleeting gold.
Here In This Land
© Karl Kraus
Here in this land no one gets ridicule
but he who tells the truth. He then must stand
defenseless and attract some smirking, cool
disdain. Nothing dishonors in this land.
Songs Of The World Unborn
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Songs of the world unborn
Swelling within me, a shoot from the heart of Spring,
As I walk the ample teeming street
This tranquil and misty morn,
What is it to me you sing?
Love And The Muse
© Mathilde Blind
STRUCK down by Love in cruel mood,
That I ever met Love I rued,
Bleeding and bruised I lay,
Wet was my face as with the salt sea spray.
The Fever-Dream
© Caroline Norton
IT was a fever-dream; I lay
Awake, as in the broad bright day,
But faint and worn I drew my breath
Like those who wait for coming death;
Italy : 3. St. Maurice
© Samuel Rogers
Still by the Leman Lake for many a mile,
Among those venerable trees I went,
Where damsels sit and weave their fishing-nets,
Singing some national song by the way-side.
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto I.
© George Gordon Byron
Nay, smile not at my sullen brow,
Alas! I cannot smile again:
Yet Heaven avert that ever thou
Shouldst weep, and haply weep in vain.
Lines Occasioned By A Visit To Whittlebury Forest, Northamptonshire, In August, 1800
© Robert Bloomfield
Genius of the Forest Shades!
Lend thy pow'r, and lend thine ear!
The Old Age Of Queen Maeve
© William Butler Yeats
A certain poet in outlandish clothes
Gathered a crowd in some Byzantine lane,
Requiescit
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
His name is cut upon a stone. His dreams
Were written on Time's hem; and Time has fled
And taken him and them. The grass is green
Upon his grave. I cannot doubt he sleeps.
The Rose And Thorn
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
SHE'S loveliest of the festal throng
In delicate form and Grecian face;
A beautiful, incarnate song;
A marvel of harmonious grace;
Peace
© Ada Cambridge
So still! So calm! Will our life's eve come thus?
No sound of strife, of labour or of pain,
No ring of woodman's axe, no dip of oar.
Will work be done, and night's rest earned, for us?
And shall we wake to see sunrise again?
Or shall we sleep, to see and know no more?
The Conscientious Deacon
© Vachel Lindsay
Black cats, grey cats, green cats miau
Chasing the deacon who stole the cow.
Reply to a Friend
© Mao Zedong
White clouds are sailing above the Mountain Jiuyi;
Riding the wind, the Princesses descend the green hills.
To A Successful Man
© Alfred Noyes
(WHAT THE GHOSTS SAID.)
And after all the labour and the pains,
After the heaping up of gold on gold,
After success that locked your feet in chains,
And left you with a heart so tired and old,
