Dreams poems
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Endymion
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The rising moon has hid the stars;
Her level rays, like golden bars,
Lie on the landscape green,
With shadows brown between.
The Light of Stars
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The night is come, but not too soon;
And sinking silently,
All silently, the little moon
Drops down behind the sky.
The Spirit of Poetry
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
There is a quiet spirit in these woods,
That dwells where'er the gentle south-wind blows;
Where, underneath the white-thorn, in the glade,
The wild flowers bloom, or, kissing the soft air,
The Slave's Dream
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Beside the ungathered rice he lay,
His sickle in his hand;
His breast was bare, his matted hair
Was buried in the sand.
Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep,
He saw his Native Land.
The Poet
© Robert M. Hensel
Words flow onto paper like rain , forming giant rivers
of unseen lands.
The very force guides us along a journey
that holds of great adventure.
Our Eunuch Dreams
© Dylan Thomas
Our eunuch dreams, all seedless in the light,
Of light and love the tempers of the heart,
Whack their boys' limbs,
And, winding-footed in their shawl and sheet,
Groom the dark brides, the widows of the night
Fold in their arms.
Before I Knocked
© Dylan Thomas
Before I knocked and flesh let enter,
With liquid hands tapped on the womb,
I who was as shapeless as the water
That shaped the Jordan near my home
Was brother to Mnetha's daughter
And sister to the fathering worm.
Within that little Hive
© Emily Dickinson
Within that little Hive
Such Hints of Honey lay
As made Reality a Dream
And Dreams, Reality --
Until the Desert knows
© Emily Dickinson
Until the Desert knows
That Water grows
His Sands suffice
But let him once suspect
That Caspian Fact
Sahara dies
The Lassitudes of Contemplation
© Emily Dickinson
The Lassitudes of Contemplation
Beget a force
They are the spirit's still vacation
That him refresh --
The Dreams consolidate in action --
What mettle fair
Let Us play Yesterday --
© Emily Dickinson
Let Us play Yesterday --
I -- the Girl at school --
You -- and Eternity -- the
Untold Tale --
I tend my flowers for thee
© Emily Dickinson
I tend my flowers for thee --
Bright Absentee!
My Fuchsia's Coral Seams
Rip -- while the Sower -- dreams --
Dreams are the subtle Dower
© Emily Dickinson
Dreams are the subtle Dower
That make us rich an Hour --
Then fling us poor
Out of the purple Door
Into the Precinct raw
Possessed before --
Dreams -- are well -- but Waking's better,
© Emily Dickinson
Dreams -- are well -- but Waking's better,
If One wake at morn --
If One wake at Midnight -- better --
Dreaming -- of the Dawn --
A precious -- mouldering pleasure -- 'tis
© Emily Dickinson
A precious -- mouldering pleasure -- 'tis --
To meet an Antique Book --
In just the Dress his Century wore --
A privilege -- I think --
"Sic transit gloria mundi"
© Emily Dickinson
"Sic transit gloria mundi,"
"How doth the busy bee,"
"Dum vivimus vivamus,"
I stay mine enemy!
Summer Dawn
© Spike Milligan
My sleeping children are still flying dreams
in their goose-down heads.
The lush of the river singing morning songs
Fish watch their ceilings turn sun-white.
Goodbye S.S.
© Spike Milligan
Go away girl, go away
and let me pack my dreams
Now where did I put those yesteryears
made up with broken seams
All The Things You Are Not Yet
© Helen Dunmore
for tessTonight there's a crowd in my head:
all the things you are not yet.
You are words without paper, pages
sighing in summer forests, gardens
InheritanceHis
© Audre Lorde
Does an image of return
wealthy and triumphant
warm your chilblained fingers
as you count coins in the Manhattan snow
or is it only Linda
who dreams of home?
