Dreams poems
/ page 97 of 232 /The Miracle
© Virna Sheard
Up from the templed city of the Jews,
The road ran straight and white
To Jericho, the City of the Palms,
The City of Delight.
The Dance
© Rupert Brooke
As the Wind, and as the Wind,
In a corner of the way,
Goes stepping, stands twirling,
Invisibly, comes whirling,
Bows before, and skips behind,
In a grave, an endless play
Second Sunday After Easter
© John Keble
O for a sculptor's hand,
That thou might'st take thy stand,
Thy wild hair floating on the eastern breeze,
Thy tranced yet open gaze
Fixed on the desert haze,
As one who deep in heaven some airy pageant sees.
I Stood Tip-Toe Upon A Little Hill
© John Keats
I stood tip-toe upon a little hill,
The air was cooling, and so very still,
That the sweet buds which with a modest pride
Pull droopingly, in slanting curve aside,
Quatrains Of Life
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
What has my youth been that I love it thus,
Sad youth, to all but one grown tedious,
Stale as the news which last week wearied us,
Or a tired actor's tale told to an empty house?
Art
© Alfred Noyes
Yes! Beauty still rebels!
Our dreams like clouds disperse:
She dwells
In agate, marble, verse.
Sonnet. "If in thy heart the spring of joy remains"
© Frances Anne Kemble
If in thy heart the spring of joy remains,
All beauteous things, being reflected there,
Two Pictures
© Anonymous
One was a child of beauty rare
With a cherub face and golden hair;
The lovely look whose radiant eyes
Filled the soul with thoughts of Paradise.
Don Quixote
© Madison Julius Cawein
On receiving a bottle of Sherry Wine of the same name
WHAT "blushing Hippocrene" is here! what fire
Of the "warm South" with magic of old Spain!
Through which again I seem to view the train
The River Of Sleep
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
There are curious isles in the River of Sleep,
Curious isles without number.
We'll visit them all as we leisurely creep
Down the winding stream whose current is deep,
In our beautiful barge of Slumber.
The Magic Wand
© Ada Cambridge
As an April garden
Breathes the scent of rain-
Rain that calls her treasures
Back to life again-
So my spirit quickens to the opening strain.
The Woddy Hollow
© William Barnes
If mem'ry, when our hope's a-gone,
Could bring us dreams to cheat us on,
My Birthday
© John Henry Newman
Let the sun summon all his beams to hold
Bright pageant in his court, the cloud-paved sky
Don Juan: Canto The Fifth
© George Gordon Byron
When amatory poets sing their loves
In liquid lines mellifluously bland,