Dreams poems
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Viva Perpetua
© Archibald Lampman
The night is passing. In a few short hours
I too shall suffer for the name of Christ.
A boundless exaltation lifts my soul!
I know that they who left us, Saturus,
Perpetua, and the other blessed ones,
Await me at the opening gates of heaven.
Maureen
© John Todhunter
O, you plant the pain in my heart with your wistful eyes,
Girl of my choice, Maureen!
Man and his Makers
© Muriel Stuart
1.
I am one of the wind's stories,
I am a fancy of the rain,-
A memory of the high noon's glories,
The hint the sunset had of pain.
Hymns to the Night : 1
© Novalis
Before all the wondrous shows of the widespread space around him, what living, sentient thing loves not the all-joyous light - with its colors, its rays and undulations, its gentle omnipresence in the form of the wakening Day? The giant-world of the unresting constellations inhales it as the innermost soul of life, and floats dancing in its blue flood - the sparkling, ever-tranquil stone, the thoughtful, imbibing plant, and the wild, burning multiform beast inhales it - but more than all, the lordly stranger with the sense-filled eyes, the swaying walk, and the sweetly closed, melodious lips. Like a king over earthly nature, it rouses every force to countless transformations, binds and unbinds innumerable alliances, hangs its heavenly form around every earthly substance. - Its presence alone reveals the marvelous splendor of the kingdoms of the world.
Aside I turn to the holy, unspeakable, mysterious Night. Afar lies the world - sunk in a deep grave - waste and lonely is its place. In the chords of the bosom blows a deep sadness. I am ready to sink away in drops of dew, and mingle with the ashes. - The distances of memory, the wishes of youth, the dreams of childhood, the brief joys and vain hopes of a whole long life, arise in gray garments, like an evening vapor after the sunset. In other regions the light has pitched its joyous tents. What if it should never return to its children, who wait for it with the faith of innocence?
Kore
© Frederic Manning
Yea, she hath passed hereby, and blessed the sheaves,
And the great garths, and stacks, and quiet farms,
And all the tawny, and the crimson leaves.
Yea, she hath passed with poppies in her arms,
Under the star of dusk, through stealing mist,
And blessed the earth, and gone, while no man wist.
Religious Musings : A Desultory Poem Written On The Christmas Eve Of 1794
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
What tho' first,
In years unseason'd, I attuned the lay
To idle passion and unreal woe?
Yet serious truth her empire o'er my song
The Song Of The Free
© Swami Vivekananda
The wounded snake its hood unfurls,
The flame stirred up doth blaze,
The desert air resounds the calls
Of heart-struck lion's rage.
There is a Hill
© Robert Seymour Bridges
There is a hill beside the silver Thames,
Shady with birch and beech and odorous pine
Tale III
© George Crabbe
bound;
In all that most confines them they confide,
Their slavery boast, and make their bonds their
Quand-Meme
© John Hay
I strove, like Israel, with my youth,
And said, Till thou bestow
Upon my life Love's joy and truth,
I will not let thee go.
The Ghost - Book IV
© Charles Churchill
Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
Monument Mountain
© William Cullen Bryant
Thou who wouldst see the lovely and the wild
Mingled in harmony on Nature's face,
Ascend our rocky mountains. Let thy foot
Fail not with weariness, for on their tops
Poem Read At The Dinner Given To The Author By The Medical Profession Of The City Of New York, April
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Good was the dinner, better was the talk;
Some whispered, devious was the homeward walk;
The story came from some reporting spy,
They lie, those fellows, oh, how they do lie!
Not ours those foot-tracks in the new-fallen snow,
Poets and sages never zigzagged so!
On the Prospect of Peace
© Thomas Tickell
To the Lord Privy Seal
Contending kings, and fields of death, too long
The Cenci : A Tragedy In Five Acts
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Scene I.
-An Apartment in the Cenci Palace.
Enter Count Cenci, and Cardinal Camillo.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. Interlude V.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Well pleased the audience heard the tale.
The Theologian said: "Indeed,
Sonnet XXXVIII.
© Charlotte Turner Smith
FROM THE NOVEL OF EMMELINE.
WHEN welcome slumber sets my spirit free,
Forth to fictitious happiness it flies,
And where Elysian bowers of bliss arise,
Private Property
© Aldous Huxley
Like fauns embossed in our domain,
We look abroad, and our calm eyes
Mark how the goatish gods of pain
Revel; and if by grim surprise
They break into our paradise,
Patient we build its beauty up again.
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto III.
© George Gordon Byron
I.
Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child!
