Dreams poems
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The Lover Of The Queen Of Sheba
© Arthur Symons
To SAROJINI NAIDU
A YOUTH OF SHEBA. THE QUEEN OF SHEBA.
THE HERALD. KING SOLOMON.
For My Wife by Wesley McNair : American Life in Poetry #255 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
A honeymoon. How often does one happen according to the dreams that preceded it? In this poem, Wesley McNair, a poet from Maine, describes a first night of marriage in a tawdry place. But all’s well that ends well.
April Night
© Archibald Lampman
Ah, soon, the teeming triumph! At my feet
The river with its stately sweep and wheel
Moves on slow-motioned, luminous, gray like steel.
From fields far off whose watery hollows gleam,
Aye with blown throats that make the long hours sweet,
The sleepless toads are murmuring in their dreams.
An Old Lesson From The Fields
© Archibald Lampman
Oh, light, I cried, and, heaven, with all your blue,
Oh, earth, with all your sunny fruitfulness,
And ye, tall lillies, of the wind-vexed field,
What power and beauty life indeed might yield,
Could we but cast away its conscious stress,
Simple of heart, becoming even as you.
Elegy
© James Beattie
Tired with the busy crowds, that all the day
Impatient throng where Folly's altars flame,
My languid powers dissolve with quick decay,
Till genial Sleep repair the sinking frame.
The Snowdrop In The Snow
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
O full of Faith! The Earth is rock,-the Heaven
The dome of a great palace all of ice,
Odysseus to Telemachus
© Joseph Brodsky
My dear Telemachus,
The Trojan War
is over now; I don't recall who won it.
The Greeks, no doubt, for only they would leave
The Dream Fairy
© Thomas Hood
A little fairy comes at night,
Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown
with silver spots upon her wings,
And from the moon she flutters down.
As In The Globe Embraced By Ocean
© Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
As is the globe embraced by ocean, so
Embraced is earthly life by dreams and fancies.
Night comes unsought, and at the shore's defences
The breakers strike blow after blow.
The Old Trundle-Bed
© James Whitcomb Riley
O the old trundle-bed where I slept when a boy!
What canopied king might not covet the joy?
Sonnet XII "What Gossamer Lures Thee Now? What Hope, What Name"
© Henry Timrod
What gossamer lures thee now? What hope, what name
Is on thy lips? What dreams to fruit have grown?
Ode On Lord Hay's BirthDay
© James Beattie
A Muse, unskill'd in venal praise,
Unstain'd with flattery's art;
Who loves simplicity of lays
Breathed ardent from the heart;
Nocturne
© Rubén Dario
I want to express my anguish in verses that speak
of my vanished youth, a time of dreams and roses,
and the bitter defloration of my life
by many small cares and one vast aching sorrow.
Dearest, this one day we own
© Augusta Davies Webster
DEAREST, this one day we own,
Stolen from the crowd and press,
Let it be sweet silence's.
We two, heart in heart, alone;
Any speech were less.
Praeceptor Amat
© Henry Timrod
How little I care
For your favorites, see! they are all of them, look!
On the spot where they fell, and - but here is your book!
Freedom
© Archibald Lampman
Out of the heart of the city begotten
Of the labour of men and their manifold hands,
Whose souls, that were sprung from the earth in her morning,
No longer regard or remember her warning,
Whose hearts in the furnace of care have forgotten
Forever the scent and the hue of her lands;
Love After Sorrow
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Behold, this hour I love, as in the glory of morn.
I too, the accursèd one, whom griefs pursue
Like phantoms through a land of deaths forlorn,
Have felt my heart leap up with courage new.
The golden journey
© William Vaughn Moody
All day he drowses by the sail
With dreams of her, and all night long
