Dreams poems

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Loves Me? Loves Me Not?

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

Under the earth goes the last new-comer,
What were the life of her, winter-summer!
What if her silent grave holds one only
Who loved her well, and who left her lonely?

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Piety: Or, The Vision

© Thomas Parnell

But still I fear, unwarm'd with holy flame,
I take for truth the flatt'ries of a dream;
And barely wish the wond'rous gift I boast,
And faintly practise what deserves it most.

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The Abencerrage : Canto III.

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Onward their slow and stately course they bend
To where the Alhambra's ancient towers ascend,
Reared and adorned by Moorish kings of yore,
Whose lost descendants there shall dwell no more.

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The Princess Pat’s

© Edgar Albert Guest

  A touch of the plain and the prairie,

  A bit of the Motherland, too;

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A Sunset

© Francis Thompson

Oh gaze ye on the firmament! a hundred clouds in motion,
Up-piled in the immense sublime beneath the winds' commotion,
  Their unimagined shapes accord:
Under their waves at intervals flames a pale levin through,
As if some giant of the air amid the vapours drew
  A sudden elemental sword.

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When Love Goes

© Sara Teasdale

O mother, I am sick of love,
I cannot laugh nor lift my head,
My bitter dreams have broken me,
I would my love were dead.

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Far West Emigrant .

© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

I.

Mine eye is weary of the plains

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Scraps

© James Whitcomb Riley

There's a habit I have nurtured,

  From the sentimental time

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Sunset Clouds

© Madison Julius Cawein

Low clouds, the lightning veins and cleaves,
  Torn from the forest of the storm,
  Sweep westward like enormous leaves
  O'er field and farm.

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L'Aube spirituelle (Spiritual Dawn)

© Charles Baudelaire

Quand chez les débauchés l'aube blanche et vermeille
Entre en société de l'Idéal rongeur,
Par l'opération d'un mystère vengeur
Dans la brute assoupie un ange se réveille.

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A Girl’s Day Dream And Its Fulfilment

© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

“Ah! mother it once sufficed thy child
To cherish a bird or flow’ret wild;
To see the moonbeams the waters kiss,
Was enough to fill her heart with bliss;
Or o’er the bright woodland stream to bow,
But these things may not suffice her now.”

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William Francis Bartlett

© John Greenleaf Whittier

Oh, well may Essex sit forlorn
Beside her sea-blown shore;
Her well beloved, her noblest born,
Is hers in life no more!

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Thanks

© Henrik Johan Ibsen

HER griefs were the hours

When my struggle was sore,--

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Vields In The Light

© William Barnes

Woone's heart mid leäp wi' thoughts o' jaÿ

  In comèn manhood light an' gaÿ

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War And Peace—A Poem

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Thou, whose lov'd presence and benignant smile
Has beam'd effulgence on this favour'd isle;
Thou! the fair seraph, in immortal state,
Thron'd on the rainbow, heaven's emblazon'd gate;
Thou! whose mild whispers in the summer-breeze
Control the storm, and undulate the seas;

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The Bell-Founder Part I - Labour And Hope

© Denis Florence MacCarthy

In that land where the heaven-tinted pencil giveth shape to the
splendour of dreams,
Near Florence, the fairest of cities, and Arno, the sweetest of streams,
'Neath those hills whence the race of the Geraldine wandered in ages

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The Dream

© Madison Julius Cawein

My dream was such:

  It seemed the afternoon

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Dedication

© John Le Gay Brereton

Grant me a moment of peace,

  Let me but open mine eyes,

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Aspiration

© Peter McArthur

HOW should I be the master of my ways

When every nerve is vibrant to the sweep