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Dreams Who first said "false as dreams?" Not one who saw Into the wild and wondrous world they sway; No thinker who hath read their mystic law; No Poet who hath weaved them in his lay. Else had he known that through the human breast Cross and recross a thousand fleeting gleams, That, passed unnoticed in the day's unrest, Come out at night, like stars, in shining dreams; That minds too busy or to dull to mark The dim suggestions of the noisier hours, By dreams in the deep silence of the dark, Are roused at midnight with their folded powers. Like that old fount beneath Dodona's oaks, That, dry and voiceless in the garish noon, When the calm night arose with modest looks, Caught with full wave the sparkle of the moon. If, now and then, a ghastly shape glide in, And fright us with its horrid gloom or glee, It is the ghost of some forgotten sin We failed to exorcise on bended knee. And that sweet face which only yesternight Came to thy solace, dreamer (did'st thou read The blessing in its eyes of tearful light?) Was but the spirit of some gentle deed. Each has its lesson; for our dreams in sooth, Come they in shape of demons, gods, or elves, Are allegories with deep hearts of truth That tell us solemn secrets of ourselves. Henry Timrod's other poems:
Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием): Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1329 |
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