Dreams poems
/ page 98 of 232 /
Discretion
© Edith Nesbit
AH, turn your pretty eyes away!
You would not have me love again?
Love's pleasure does not live a day,
Immortal is Love's pain,
And I am tired of pain.
The Ringlet
© Caroline Norton
Change!--thou wert all life's scenery:
To me, the billowy, bounding wave--
The wide green earth--the far blue sky,
Form but the landscape of thy grave!
The Woodcutter's Hut
© Archibald Lampman
Far up in the wild and wintery hills in the heart of the cliff-broken
woods,
At The Fall Of An Age
© Robinson Jeffers
(The story of Achilles rising from the dead for love of Helen
is well enough known. That of Polyxo's vengeance may be less
WalnutLeaf Scent
© Robert Laurence Binyon
In the high leaves of a walnut,
On the very topmost boughs,
A boy that climbed the branching bole
His cradled limbs would house.
A Parson's Letter To A Young Poet
© Jean Ingelow
They said: "We, rich by him, are rich by more;
One Aeschylus found watchfires on a hill
That lit Old Night's three daughters to their work;
When the forlorn Fate leaned to their red light
And sat a-spinning, to her feet he came
And marked her till she span off all her thread.
Through Sleepy-Land
© James Whitcomb Riley
Where do you go when you go to sleep,
Little Boy! Little Boy! where?
'Way--'way in where's Little Bo-Peep,
And Little Boy Blue, and the Cows and Sheep
A-wandering 'way in there;--in there--
A-wandering 'way in there!
London - in Imitation of the Third Satire of Juvenal
© Samuel Johnson
'--Quis ineptae
Tam patiens urbis, tam ferreus ut teneat se?' ~ Juv.
Witnesses
© Madison Julius Cawein
You say I do not love you!--Tell me why,
When I have gazed a little on your face,
And then gone forth into the world of men,
A beauty, neither of the Earth or Sky,
A glamour, that transforms each common place,
Attends my spirit then?
Flight To Nature
© William Gilmore Simms
SICK of the crowd, the toil, the strife,
Sweet Nature, how I turn to thee,
Seeking for renovated life,
By brawling brook and shady tree!
The Paralytic
© Robert Laurence Binyon
He stands where the young faces pass and throng;
His blank eyes tremble in the noonday sun:
He sees all life, the lovely and the strong,
Before him run.
The Wail in the Native Oak
© Henry Kendall
Where the lone creek, chafing nightly in the cold and sad moonshine,
Beats beneath the twisted fern-roots and the drenched and dripping vine;
The Dance Of The Seven Sins
© Arthur Symons
THE STAGE-MANAGER
It is. Each morning that decays
To midnight ends the world as well,
For the world's day, as that farewell
When, at the ultimate judgment-Stroke,
Heaven too shall vanish in pale smoke.
Rachel
© Anna Akhmatova
When Jacob and Rachel met for the first time,
He bowed to her like a humble wayfarer.
The herds were raising hot dust to the skies,
The little well's mouth was covered by a boulder.
He rolled the old boulder away from the well
And watered the flock with clean water himself.
Winter Streams
© Bliss William Carman
NOW the little rivers go
Muffled safely under snow,
And the winding meadow streams
Murmur in their wintry dreams,
On Landing At Ostend
© William Lisle Bowles
The orient beam illumes the parting oar;--
From yonder azure track, emerging white,
