Poems on the topic: dream

Poems on the topic “dream” on Poets.by.

SadEdgar Allan Poe

Sonnet--To Science

SCIENCE! true daughter of Old Time thou art! Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes. Why preyest thou thus upon the poet's heart, Vulture, whose wings are dull realities How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise, Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering To seek for treasure in the jewelled skies, Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing! Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car? And driven the Hamadryad from the wood To seek a shelter in some happier star? Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood, The Elfin from the green grass, and from me The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?
RomanticEdgar Allan Poe

To F--

Beloved! amid the earnest woes That crowd around my earthly path-- (Drear path, alas! where grows Not even one lonely rose)-- My soul at least a solace hath In dreams of thee, and therein knows An Eden of bland repose. And thus thy memory is to me Like some enchanted far-off isle In some tumultuous sea-- Some ocean throbbing far and free With storm--but where meanwhile Serenest skies continually Just o'er that one bright inland smile.
DreamyChristina Rossetti

Spring Quiet

Gone were but the Winter, Come were but the Spring, I would go to a covert Where the birds sing; Where in the whitethorn Singeth a thrush, And a robin sings In the holly-bush. Full of fresh scents Are the budding boughs Arching high over A cool green house: Full of sweet scents, And whispering air Which sayeth softly: "We spread no snare;
SadEdgar Allan Poe

To One In Paradise

Thou wast that all to me, love, For which my soul did pine-- A green isle in the sea, love, A fountain and a shrine, All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers, And all the flowers were mine. Ah, dream too bright to last! Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise But to be overcast! A voice from out the Future cries, "On! on!"--but o'er the Past (Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies Mute, motionless, aghast! For, alas! alas! with me The light of Life is o'er! "No more--no more--no more"--
SadEdgar Allan Poe

Bridal Ballad

The ring is on my hand, And the wreath is on my brow; Satins and jewels grand Are all at my command. And I am happy now. And my lord he loves me well; But, when first he breathed his vow, I felt my bosom swell-- For the words rang as a knell, And the voice seemed his who fell In the battle down the dell, And who is happy now. But he spoke to reassure me, And he kissed my pallid brow, While a reverie came o'er me, And to the churchyard bore me,
ContemplativeEdgar Allan Poe

Eldorado

Gaily bedight, A gallant knight, In sunshine and in shadow, Had journeyed long, Singing a song, In search of Eldorado. But he grew old-- This knight so bold-- And o'er his heart a shadow Fell as he found No spot of ground That looked like Eldorado. And, as his strength Failed him at length, He met a pilgrim shadow-- "Shadow," said he,
SadAnne Bronte

The Captive's Dream

Methought I saw him but I knew him not; He was so changed from what he used to be, There was no redness on his woe-worn cheek, No sunny smile upon his ashy lips, His hollow wandering eyes looked wild and fierce, And grief was printed on his marble brow, And O I thought he clasped his wasted hands, And raised his haggard eyes to Heaven, and prayed That he might die -- I had no power to speak, I thought I was allowed to see him thus; And yet I might not speak one single word; I might not even tell him that I lived And that it might be possible if search were made, To find out where I was and set me free, O how I longed to clasp him to my heart, Or but to hold his trembling hand in mine,
SadAnne Bronte

Dreams

While on my lonely couch I lie, I seldom feel myself alone, For fancy fills my dreaming eye With scenes and pleasures of its own. Then I may cherish at my breast An infant's form beloved and fair, May smile and soothe it into rest With all a Mother's fondest care. How sweet to feel its helpless form Depending thus on me alone! And while I hold it safe and warm What bliss to think it is my own! And glances then may meet my eyes That daylight never showed to me; What raptures in my bosom rise, Those earnest looks of love to see,

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