Dreams poems
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Battle Sleep
© Edith Wharton
SOMEWHERE, O sun, some corner there must be
Thou visitest, where down the strand
Quietly, still, the waves go out to sea
From the green fringes of a pastoral land.
Forest Silence
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Where she reclines
In a rock's cup,
Smooth, tawny--mossed,
Under tall pines,
Her eyes look up,
Her gaze is lost.
Hymn To Mercury
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF HOMER.
I.
Sing, Muse, the son of Maia and of Jove,
The Herald-child, king of Arcadia
Awake, my fair
© Yehudah HaLevi
Awake, my fair, my love, awake,
So that I may gaze upon you!
And if one is eager to kiss your lips,
In your dreams this do you see,
Lo, then I myself of your dream
The interpreter will be.
Artemis To Actaeon
© Edith Wharton
And this was thine: to lose thyself in me,
Relive in my renewal, and become
The light of other lives, a quenchless torch
Passed on from hand to hand, till men are dust
And the last garland withers from my shrine.
Understand That This Is A Dream
© Allen Ginsberg
first dream that made me take down my pants
urgently to show the cars / auto tracks / rolling down avenue hill.
That far back what do I remember / but the face of the leader of the gang
was blond / that loved me / one day on the steps of his house blocks away
all afternoon I told him about my magic Spell
I can do anything I want / palaces millions / chemistry sets / chicken
From A City Window
© Margaret Elizabeth Sangster
For somewhere, dear, there's a magic land
On the shores of a silver sea;
And there is a boat with turquoise sails -
With sails that are wide and free;
A boat that is whirling through the spray,
That is coming for you and me!
The Farmer's Boy - Spring
© Robert Bloomfield
Down, indignation! hence, ideas foul!
Away the shocking image from my soul!
Let kindlier visitants attend my way,
Beneath approaching _Summer's_ fervid ray;
Nor thankless glooms obtrude, nor cares annoy,
Whilst the sweet theme is _universal joy_.
Baloo Loo For Jenny
© Robert Graves
Sing baloo loo for Jenny
And where is she gone?
Away to spy her mother's land,
Riding all alone.
To Octavia, the Infant Daughter of the Late John Larking, esq.
© Alaric Alexander Watts
Full many a gloomy month hath passed,
On flagging wing, regardless by,
Kites
© William Rose Benet
High on the telephone wires, the paltry pitiful thing
Hangs in rags and tatters and loops of string.
A slight breeze shakes it, but cannot shake it down.
It flutters and flutters forgotten above the town.
The Tent On The Beach
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I would not sin, in this half-playful strain,--
Too light perhaps for serious years, though born
Rhaposdy
© William Stanley Braithwaite
I am glad daylong for the gift of song,
For time and change and sorrow;
The Pleasures of Imagination: Book The First
© Mark Akenside
With what attractive charms this goodly frame
Of nature touches the consenting hearts
To The Head-Ach
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
THOU tyrant of the ling'ring hour!
Ah, why with me delight to rest?
Hence far away, tormenting pow'r
Unwelcome guest!
The Land Of Nowhere
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Do you know where the summer blooms all the year 'round,
Where there never is rain on a pic-nic day?
Where the thornless rose in its beauty blows
And little boys never are called from play?
Then, oh! hey! it is far away-
In the wonderful land of Nowhere.
At William Maclennan's Grave
© Duncan Campbell Scott
Here where the cypress tall
Shadows the stucco wall,
Bronze and deep,
Where the chrysanthemums blow,
And the roses--blood and snow--
He lies asleep.
The Rising Of The Moon
© Madison Julius Cawein
THE Day brims high its ewer
Of blue with starry light,
And crowns as King that hewer
Of clouds (which take their flight
The Bread Of Angels
© Edith Wharton
At last, upon my wonder drawn, I followed
The secret wanderers till I saw them pause
Before the dying glare of those tall panes
Where greed and surfeit nodded face to face
O'er the picked bones of pleasure . . .
And the door opened and the nuns went in.
