Dreams poems
/ page 68 of 232 /Bothwell Castle
© William Wordsworth
Immured in Bothwell's Towers, at times the Brave
(So beautiful is the Clyde) forgot to mourn
To My Eldest Brother, With The British Army In Portugal
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Does memory's pencil oft, in mellowing hue,
Dear social scenes, departed joys renew;
In softer tints delighting to retrace,
Each tender image and each well-known face?
Yes! wanderer, yes! thy spirit flies to those,
Whose love unalter'd, warm and faithful glows!
The Stranger In Louisiana
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
We saw thee, O stranger, and wept!
We look'd for the youth of the sunny glance,
DreamComeTrue
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Within the eyes of Dream--Come--True
Shine the old dreams of my youth.
Ere they faded, ere they grew
Distant, they were born anew
Sable Island
© Joseph Howe
Dark Isle of Mourning-aptly art thou named,
For thou hast been the cause of many a tear;
Loraine
© George Essex Evans
In her dark-ringed eyes shone the sad unrest
That spoke in the heave of her troubled breast,
And her face was white as the chiselled stone,
And her lips pressed madly against my own,
And her heart beat wildly against my heart,
And we strove to go, but we could not part.
Lullaby
© Edgar Albert Guest
The golden dreamboat's ready, all her silken sails are spread,
And the breeze is gently blowing to the fairy port of Bed,
And the fairy's captain's waiting while the busy sandman flies
With the silver dust of slumber, closing every baby's eyes.
On The Proposal To Erect A Monument In England To Lord Byron
© Emma Lazarus
The grass of fifty Aprils hath waved green
Above the spent heart, the Olympian head,
The Discovery
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
THESE are the days of elfs and fays:
Who says that with the dreams of myth,
The Poet And The Muse
© Alfred Austin
Whither, and whence, and why hast fled?
Thou art dumb, my muse; thou art dumb, thou art dead,
As a waterless stream, as a leafless tree.
What have I done to banish thee?
The Defeat of Youth
© Aldous Huxley
I. UNDER THE TREES.
There had been phantoms, pale-remembered shapes
The Battle Of Kings Mountain
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
OFTTIMES an old man's yesterdays o'er his frail vision pass,
Dim as the twilight tints that touch a dusk-enshrouded glass;
But, ah! youth's time and manhood's prime but grow more brave, more bright,
As still the lengthening shadows steal toward the rayless night.
Three Men Of Truro
© Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
Aloft with us! And while another stone
Swings to its socket, haste with trowel and hod!
Win the old smile a moment ere, alone,
Soars the great soul to bear report to God.
Night falls; but thou, dear Captain, from thy star
Look down, behold how bravely goes the war!
We Are Getting to the End
© Thomas Hardy
We are getting to the end of visioning
The impossible within this universe,
Such as that better whiles may follow worse,
And that our race may mend by reasoning.
The Death Of Goody Nurse
© Rose Terry Cooke
The chill New England sunshine
Lay on the kitchen floor;
The wild New England north wind
Came rattling at the door.