Category: Dreams

  • He wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

    By W. B. Yeats

    Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
    Enwrought with golden and silver light,
    The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
    Of night and light and the half-light,
    I would spread the cloths under your feet:
    But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
    I have spread my dreams under your feet;
    Tread softly because you tread upon my dreams.

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  • The Secret Rose

    By W. B. Yeats

    Far-off, most secret, and inviolate Rose,
    Enfold me in my hour of hours; where those
    Who sought thee in the Holy Sepulchre,
    Or in the wine-vat, dwell beyond the stir
    And tumult of defeated dreams; and deep
    Among pale eyelids, heavy with the sleep
    Men have named beauty. Thy great leaves enfold
    The ancient beards, the helms of ruby and gold
    Of the crowned Magi; and the king whose eyes
    Saw the Pierced Hands and Rood of elder rise
    In Druid vapour and make the torches dim;
    Till vain frenzy woke and he died; and him
    Who met Fand walking among flaming dew
    By a grey shore where the wind never blew,
    And lost the world and Emer for a kiss;
    And him who drove the gods out of their liss,
    And till a hundred morns had flowered red
    Feasted, and wept the barrows of his dead;
    And the proud dreaming king who flung the crown
    And sorrow away, and calling bard and clown
    Dwelt among wine-stained wanderers in deep woods;
    And him who sold tillage, and house, and goods,
    And sought through lands and islands numberless years,
    Until he found, with laughter and with tears,
    A woman of so shining loveliness
    That men threshed corn at midnight by a tress,
    A little stolen tress. I, too, await
    The hour of thy great wind of love and hate.
    When shall the stars be blown about the sky,
    Like the sparks blown out of a smithy, and die?
    Surely thine hour has come, thy great wind blows,
    Far-off, most secret, and inviolate Rose?

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  • Dream Poem

    By Elaine Maria Upton

    Everytime you see a tree
    or dream a cloud,
    there is that in you of the tree
    there is that in you of the cloud.

    The saguaro dreams in drought
    and endures. The cloud dreams
    our woe –sneezes, cries.
    The rain falls

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  • I Would Live in Your Love

    By Sara Teasdale

    I would live in your love as the sea-grasses live in the sea,
    Borne up by each wave as it passes,
    drawn down by each wave that recedes;
    I would empty my soul of the dreams that have gathered in me,
    I would beat with your heart as it beats,
    I would follow your soul as it leads.

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  • Winter Stars

    By Sara Teasdale

    I went out at night alone;
    The young blood flowing beyond the sea
    Seemed to have drenched my spirit’s wings —
    I bore my sorrow heavily.
    But when I lifted up my head
    From shadows shaken on the snow,
    I saw Orion in the east
    Burn steadily as long ago.

    From windows in my father’s house,
    Dreaming my dreams on winter nights,
    I watched Orion as a girl
    Above another city’s lights.

    Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too,
    The world’s heart breaks beneath its wars,
    All things are changed, save in the east
    The faithful beauty of the stars.

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  • One Day in Spring…

    By Rabindranath Tagore

    One day in spring, a woman came
    In my lonely woods,
    In the lovely form of the Beloved.
    Came, to give to my songs, melodies,
    To give to my dreams, sweetness.
    Suddenly a wild wave
    Broke over my heart’s shores
    And drowned all language.
    To my lips no name came,
    She stood beneath the tree, turned,
    Glanced at my face, made sad with pain,
    And with quick steps, came and sat by me.
    Taking my hands in hers, she said:
    ‘You do not know me, nor I you–
    I wonder how this could be?’
    I said:
    ‘We two shall build, a bridge for ever
    Between two beings, each to the other unknown,
    This eager wonder is at the heart of things.’

    The cry that is in my heart is also the cry of her heart;
    The thread with which she binds me binds her too.
    Her have I sought everywhere,
    Her have I worshipped within me,
    Hidden in that worship she has sought me too.
    Crossing the wide oceans, she came to steal my heart.
    She forgot to return, having lost her own.
    Her own charms play traitor to her,
    She spreads her net, knowing not
    Whether she will catch or be caught.

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  • My Song

    By Rabindranath Tagore

    This song of mine will wind its music around you,
    my child, like the fond arms of love.

    The song of mine will touch your forehead
    like a kiss of blessing.

    When you are alone it will sit by your side and
    whisper in your ear, when you are in the crowd
    it will fence you about with aloofness.

    My song will be like a pair of wings to your dreams,
    it will transport your heart to the verge of the unknown.

    It will be like the faithful star overhead
    when dark night is over your road.

    My song will sit in the pupils of your eyes,
    and will carry your sight into the heart of things.

    And when my voice is silenced in death,
    my song will speak in your living heart.

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