Dreams poems
/ page 46 of 232 /Night On Our Lives
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Night on our lives, ah me, how surely has it fallen!
Be they who can deceived. I dare not look before.
See, sad years, to your own; your little wealth long hoarded,
How sore it was to win, how soon it perished all!
The Farewell
© Khalil Gibran
So saying he made a signal to the seamen, and straightaway they weighed anchor and cast the ship loose from its moorings, and they moved eastward.
And a cry came from the people as from a single heart, and it rose the dusk and was carried out over the sea like a great trumpeting.
Only Almitra was silent, gazing after the ship until it had vanished into the mist.
And when all the people were dispersed she still stood alone upon the sea-wall, remembering in her heart his saying,
A little while, a moment of rest upon the wind, and another woman shall bear me."
Lady Surrey's Lament For Her Absent Lord
© Henry Howard
Good ladies, you that have your pleasure in exile,
Step in your foot, come take a place, and mourn with me a while,
Fog
© Emma Lazarus
Light silken curtain, colorless and soft,
Dreamlike before me floating! what abides
Behind thy pearly veil's
Opaque, mysterious woof?
The Dream
© George Gordon Byron
IX.
MY dream was past; it had no further change.
It was of a strange order, that the doom
Of these two creatures should be thus traced out
Almost like a reality - the one
To end in madness - both in misery.
Sister Songs-An Offering To Two Sisters - Part The Second
© Francis Thompson
'Tis a vision:
Yet the greeneries Elysian
He has known in tracts afar;
Thus the enamouring fountains flow,
Those the very palms that grow,
By rare-gummed Sava, or Herbalimar. -
No Sign
© George MacDonald
O Lord, if on the wind, at cool of day,
I heard one whispered word of mighty grace;
If through the darkness, as in bed I lay,
But once had come a hand upon my face;
Paradise Lost : Book I.
© John Milton
Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
Sonnet II
© Caroline Norton
RAPHAEL.
BLESS'D wert thou, whom Death, and not Decay,
Bore from the world on swift and shadowy wings,
Ere age or weakness dimm'd one brilliant ray
The Road Menders
© Robert Laurence Binyon
How solitary gleams the lamplit street
Waiting the far--off morn!
How softly from the unresting city blows
The murmur borne
Alone
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Blessings there are of cradle and of clan,
Blessings that fall of priests' and princes' hands;
But never blessing full of lives and lands,
Broad as the blessing of a lonely man.
Fragments from 'Genius Lost'
© Charles Harpur
Prelude
I SEE the boy-bard neath lifes morning skies,
While hopes bright cohorts guess not of defeat,
And ardour lightens from his earnest eyes,
And faiths cherubic wings around his being beat.
Euterpe
© Henry Kendall
CHILD of Light, the bright, the bird-like! wilt thou float and float to me,
Facing winds and sleets and waters, flying glimpses of the sea?
Good-By To The Cradle
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
GOOD-BY to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle,
The rude hand of Progress has thrust it aside:
No more to its motion, o'er Sleep's fairy ocean,
Our play-weary wayfarers peacefully glide;
The Sage Enamoured And The Honest Lady
© George Meredith
Our world believes it stabler if the soft
Are whipped to show the face repentance wears.
Then hear it, in a moan of atheist gloom,
Deplore the weedy growth of hypocrites;
Count Nature devilish, and accept for doom
The chasm between our passions and our wits!
The Witch of Wenham
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I.
Along Crane River's sunny slopes
Blew warm the winds of May,
And over Naumkeag's ancient oaks
The green outgrew the gray.
To A Portrait Of "A Gentleman"
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
IT may be so,--perhaps thou hast
A warm and loving heart;
I will not blame thee for thy face,
Poor devil as thou art.
Breitmanns Going To Church
© Charles Godfrey Leland
D'VAS near de state of Nashfille,
In de town of Tennessee,
Der Breitmann vonce vas quarderd
Mit all his cavallrie.
The Idumean Cantos 1-12
© Basilio Ponce de Leon
Along the bridge corpulence
In the form of great pigs
Hopping on pogo-sticks
Is headed for their own
Pilgrimage down Southward.