Dreams poems
/ page 163 of 232 /
When An Old Man Gets To Thinking
© Edgar Albert Guest
When an old man gets to thinking of the years he's traveled through,
He hears again the laughter of the little ones he knew.
He isn't counting money, and he isn't planning schemes;
He's at home with friendly people in the shadow of his dreams.
The Pledge At Spunky Point
© John Hay
A Tale of Earnest Effort and Human Perfidy
It's all very well for preaching
Choriambics
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
What strange faces of dreams, voices that called, hands that were raised to wave,
Lured or led thee, alas, out of the sun, down to the sunless grave?
Dear phantoms of my summer's golden
© William Herbert Carruth
Dear phantoms of my summer's golden
dream!
Jealousy
© Rupert Brooke
When I see you, who were so wise and cool,
Gazing with silly sickness on that fool
People
© Margaret Widdemer
And how it comforts us to pray
Whether God hears or turns away,
And how to work and sleep and wake
Is good for the mere doing's sake:
Till, whether life seem gay or sad,
I am so glad for men so glad!
By A Grave. In Spring.
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
AH, mother! canst thou feel her? . . . spring has come!
Birds sing, brooks murmur, woods no more are dumb;
And for each grief that vexed thine earthly hour,
Nature has kissed thy grave! and lo! . . . a flower.
Hymn To The Naiads
© Mark Akenside
ARGUMENT. The Nymphs, who preside over springs and rivulets, are addressed at day-break, in honor of their several functions, and of the relations which they bear to the natural and to the moral world. Their origin is deduced from the first allegorical deities, or powers of nature; according to the doctrine of the old mythological poets, concerning the generation of the gods and the rise of things. They are then successively considered, as giving motion to the air and exciting summer-breezes; as nourishing and beautifying the vegetable creation; as contributing to the fullness of navigable rivers, and consequently to the maintenance of commerce; and by that means, to the maritime part of military power. Next is represented their favourable influence upon health, when assisted by rural exercise: which introduces their connection with the art of physic, and the happy effects of mineral medicinal springs. Lastly, they are celebrated for the friendship which the Muses bear them, and for the true inspiration which temperance only can receive: in opposition to the enthusiasm of the more licentious poets.
--
I Continue To Dream
© Langston Hughes
I take my dreams and make of them a bronze vase
and a round fountain with a beautiful statue in its center.
And a song with a broken heart and I ask you:
Do you understand my dreams?
Foreward
© Madison Julius Cawein
_And one, perchance, will read and sigh:
"What aimless songs! Why will he sing
Of nature that drags out her woe
Through wind and rain, and sun, and snow,
From miserable spring to spring?"
Then put me by._
Hamlet As Told On The Street
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Well, that was the end of our sweet prince,
He died in confusion and nobodys seen him since.
And the moral of the story is bells do get out of tune
And you can find shit in a silver spoon
And an old mans revenge can be a young mans ruin
Oh and never look too close
at what your mamma is doin.
On the Paroo
© Henry Kendall
AS WHEN the strong stream of a wintering sea
Rolls round our coast, with bodeful breaks of storm,
Sydney Exhibition Cantata
© Henry Kendall
A gracious morning on the hills of wet
And wind and mist her glittering feet has set;
The life and heat of light have chased away
Australia's dark, mysterious yesterday.
A great, glad glory now flows down and shines
On gold-green lands where waved funereal pines.
Address To Music
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
OH thou! whose soft, bewitching lyre,
Can lull the sting of pain to rest;
Oh thou! whose warbling notes inspire,
The pensive muse with visions blest;
Sweet music! let thy melting airs
Enhance my joys, and sooth my cares!
"Sed Nos Qui Vivimus"
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
How beautiful is life--the physical joy of sense and breathing;
The glory of the world which has found speech and speaks to us;
The robe which summer throws in June round the white bones of winter;
The new birth of each day, itself a life, a world, a sun!
My Play Is Done
© Swami Vivekananda
Ever rising, ever falling with the waves of time, still rolling on I go
From fleeting scene to scene ephemeral, with life's currents' ebb and flow.
The Naiads' Music: From A Faun's Holiday
© Robert Nichols
Come, ye sorrowful, and steep
Your tired brows in a nectarous sleep:
For our kisses lightlier run
Than the traceries of the sun
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 12:
© Conrad Aiken
The walls and roofs, the scarlet towers,
Sank down behind a rushing sky.
He heard a sweet song just begun
Abruptly shatter in tones and die.
It whirled away. Cold silence fell.
And again came tollings of a bell.
