Dreams poems
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Pelleas And Ettarre
© Alfred Tennyson
King Arthur made new knights to fill the gap
Left by the Holy Quest; and as he sat
In hall at old Caerleon, the high doors
Were softly sundered, and through these a youth,
Pelleas, and the sweet smell of the fields
Past, and the sunshine came along with him.
Beneath The Snow
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Twas near the close of the dying year,
And Decembers winds blew cold and drear,
Driving the snow and sharp blinding sleet
In gusty whirls through square and street,
Shrieking more wildly and fiercely still
In the dreary grave-yard that crowns the hill.
Book Eighth: Retrospect--Love Of Nature Leading To Love Of Man
© William Wordsworth
WHAT sounds are those, Helvellyn, that are heard
Up to thy summit, through the depth of air
An Epistle To George William Curtis
© James Russell Lowell
Curtis, whose Wit, with Fancy arm in arm,
Masks half its muscle in its skill to charm,
Book First [Introduction-Childhood and School Time]
© William Wordsworth
OH there is blessing in this gentle breeze,
A visitant that while it fans my cheek
Tristesses de la lune (Sorrows Of The Moon)
© Charles Baudelaire
Ce soir, la lune rêve avec plus de paresse;
Ainsi qu'une beauté, sur de nombreux coussins,
Qui d'une main distraite et légère caresse
Avant de s'endormir le contour de ses seins,
Twenty Years
© Francis Bret Harte
Beg your pardon, old fellow! I think
I was dreaming just now when you spoke.
The fact is, the musical clink
Of the ice on your wine-goblet's brink
A chord of my memory woke.
The Vagabonds
© Bliss William Carman
We go unheeded as the stream
That wanders by the hill-wood side,
Till the great marshes take his hand
And lead him to the roving tide.
Italy : 33. The Campagna Of Rome
© Samuel Rogers
Have none appeared as tillers of the ground,
None since They went -- as though it still were theirs,
And they might come and claim their own again?
Was the last plough a Roman's?
The March Of Mortality
© Edgar Albert Guest
Over the hills of time to the valley of endless years;
Over the roads of woe to the land that is free from tears
Up from the haunts of men to the place where the angels are,
This is the march of mortality to a wonderful goal afar.
Oxford In WarTime
© Robert Laurence Binyon
What alters you, familiar lawn and tower,
Arched alley, and garden green to the gray wall
With crumbling crevice and the old wine--red flower,
Solitary in summer sun? for all
Poets Of Spirit
© Vyacheslav Ivanovich Ivanov
The snow is clothed in dawn
In the high desert,
We are oaths of Eternity
In the azure of Beauty.
The Awakening
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
FROM day to day the dreary heaven
Outpoured its hopeless heart in rain;
The conscious pines, half shuddering, heard
The secret of the East wind's pain.
Birdwatchers Of America
© Anthony Evan Hecht
Its all very well to dream of a dove that saves,
Picassos or the Popes,
The Voice
© Charles Baudelaire
I was the height of a folio, my bed just
backed on the bookcases sombre Babel,
everything, Latin ashes, Greek dust
jumbled together: novel, science, fable.
Under The Rose
© Madison Julius Cawein
He told a story to her,
A story old yet new--
And was it of the Faëry Folk
That dance along the dew?
Mason And Slidell: A Yankee Idyll
© James Russell Lowell
Wut! they ha'n't hanged 'em?
Then their wits is gone!
Thet's the sure way to make a goose a swan!
All About You
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
In the Grandville greyhound station in the lightly drizzlin' rain
Sittin' on my suitcase goin' quietly insane all about you babe all about you
All about you and then no feelin' double dealin' things that you do
Uh every man in Grandville says he knows you well
Burn your ears if you could hear the stories that they tell
