Dreams poems
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The Nuptials Of Attila
© George Meredith
Hatred of that abject slave,
Earth, was in each chieftain's heart.
Earth has got him, whom God gave,
Earth may sing, and earth shall smart!
Attila, my Attila!
The Land Of Illusion
© Madison Julius Cawein
So we had come at last, my soul and I,
Into that land of shadowy plain and peak,
On which the dawn seemed ever about to break
On which the day seemed ever about to die.
Ancient Myths
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
YE pleasant myths of Eld, why have ye fled?
The earth has fallen from her blissful prime
Of summer years, the dews of that sweet time,
Are withered on its garlands sere and dead.
On A Sea Wall
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
I sit upon the old sea wall,
And watch the shimmering sea,
Where soft and white the moonbeams fall,
Till, in a fantasy,
Some pure white maiden's funeral pall
The strange light seems to me.
Paracelsus: Part II: Paracelsus Attains
© Robert Browning
Ay, my brave chronicler, and this same hour
As well as any: now, let my time be!
An Old Friend
© James Whitcomb Riley
Hey, Old Midsummer! are you here again,
With all your harvest-store of olden joys,--
The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto VII.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
Preludes.
I Joy and Use
Weeds
© William Herbert Carruth
Poor, homely, unloved things beside the way,
That strive in voiceless ignominy, still
By The Bridge
© Arthur Wentworth Hamilton Eaton
WITH subtlest mimicry of wave and tide,
Of ocean storm, and current setting free,
Here by the bridge the river deep and wide,
Swaying the reeds along its muddy marge,
Speeds to the wharf the dusky coaling-barge
And dreams itself a commerce-quickening sea.
Quatrains
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
With beams December planets dart
His cold eye truth and conduct scanned,
July was in his sunny heart,
October in his liberal hand.
The Model
© Harriet Monroe
Have you forgottenyou, the chief,
The art-director, president,
What not, of the establishment
Forgot how for a moment brief
The whole show, all our strife and stir,
Went outfor her?
Daybreak
© Stephen Spender
At Dawn she lay with her profile at that angle
Which, when she sleeps, seems the carved face of an angel.
Her hair a harp, the hand of a breeze follows
And plays, against the white cloud of the pillows.
Mons Angelorum
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
Joshua O father of my soul, I cannot tell.
The burden of the Lord is heavy on me,
And I am broken beneath it.
Once More
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
"Will I come?" That is pleasant! I beg to inquire
If the gun that I carry has ever missed fire?
And which was the muster-roll-mention but one--
That missed your old comrade who carries the gun?
Sonnet XI. To Sheridan
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
It was some spirit, Sheridan! that breath'd
O'er thy young mind such wildly-various power!
My soul hath marked thee in her shaping hour,
Thy temples with Hymettian flowrets wreath'd:
Economy, A Rhapsody, Addressed to Young Poets
© William Shenstone
Insanis; omnes gelidis quaecunqne lacernis
Sunt tibi, Nasones Virgiliosque vides. ~Mart.
Imitation.
--Thou know'st not what thou say'st;
In garments that scarce fence them from the cold
Our Ovids and our Virgils you behold.
The Three Concerned
© Leon Gellert
The Man
He lies forgotten 'neath the watching skies,
the blood upon his bayonet scarlet bright;
the red moon shining in his glazed eyes,
the 'Last Post' crying, crying in the night.
