Dreams poems

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Flos Lunae

© Ernest Christopher Dowson

I would not alter thy cold eyes,
Nor trouble the calm fount of speech
With aught of passion or surprise.
The heart of thee I cannot reach:
I would not alter thy cold eyes!

The Weeds Counsel

© Bliss William Carman

SAID a traveller by the way
Pausing, "What hast thou to say,
Flower by the dusty road,
That would ease a mortal's load?"

The German Students Love-Song

© Caroline Norton

By these, and by Love's power divine,
I have no thought but what is thine!
II.

The Last Song

© Madison Julius Cawein

She sleeps; he sings to her. The day was long,

And, tired out with too much happiness,

The Little Sister Of The Prophet

© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall

Then the little brown mother smiled,
As one does on the words of a well-loved child,
And, "Son," she replied, "have the oxen been watered and fed ?
For work is to do, though the skies be never so red,
And already the first sweet hours of the day are spent."
And he sighed, and went.

The Lanawn Shee

© Francis Ledwidge

Powdered and perfumed the full bee
Winged heavily across the clover,
And where the hills were dim with dew,
Purple and blue the west leaned over.

Gulls

© Virna Sheard

When the mist drives past and the wind blows high,
And the harbour lights are dim--
See where they circle, and dip and fly,
The grey free-lances of wind and sky,
To the water's distant rim!

An Address To Night

© Madison Julius Cawein

Like some sad spirit from an unknown shore

Thou comest with two children in thine arms:

The Roman Gravemounds

© Thomas Hardy

By Rome's dim relics there walks a man,
Eyes bent; and he carries a basket and spade;
I guess what impels him to scrape and scan;
Yea, his dreams of that Empire long decayed.

The Sleeper

© Madison Julius Cawein

She sleeps and dreams; one milk-white, lawny arm
Pillowing her heavy hair, as might cold Night
Meeting her sister Day, with glory warm,
Subside in languor on her bosom's white.

Sir Walter Scott At The Tomb Of The Stuarts In St. Peters

© Richard Monckton Milnes

Eve's tinted shadows slowly fill the fane
Where Art has taken almost Nature's room,
While still two objects clear in light remain,
An alien pilgrim at an alien tomb.--

A Requiem

© Ernest Christopher Dowson

Neobule, being tired,
Far too tired to laugh or weep,
From the hours, rosy and gray,
Hid her golden face away.
Neobule, fain of sleep,
Slept at last as she desired!

The Children's Heaven

© George MacDonald

The infant lies in blessed ease

Upon his mother's breast;

The Garden Refused

© Edith Nesbit

There is a garden made for our delight,
Where all the dreams we dare not dream come true.
I know it, but I do not know the way.
We slip and tumble in the doubtful night,
Where everything is difficult and new,
And clouds our breath has made obscure the day.

"I Was A Stranger, And Ye Took Me In"

'Neath skies that winter never knew
The air was full of light and balm,
And warm and soft the Gulf wind blew
Through orange bloom and groves of palm.

The Little Dancers

Lonely, save for a few faint stars, the sky
Dreams; and lonely, below, the little street
Into its gloom retires, secluded and shy.
Scarcely the dumb roar enters this soft retreat;

Hyperion, A Vision: Attempted Reconstruction Of The Poem

© John Keats

"With such remorseless speed still come new woes,
That unbelief has not a space to breathe.
Saturn! sleep on: me thoughtless, why should I
Thus violate thy slumbrous solitude?
Why should I ope thy melancholy eyes?
Saturn! sleep on, while at thy feet I weep."