Dream Poems - Poems For Dream

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The Dream - Poem by Amy Levy

Believe me, this was true last night,
Tho' it is false to-day.
- A.M.F. Robinson.


A fair dream to my chamber flew:
Such a crowd of folk that stirred,
Jested, fluttered; only you,
You alone of all that band,
Calm and silent, spake no word.
Only once you neared my place,
And your hand one moment's space
Sought the fingers of my hand;
Your eyes flashed to mine; I knew
All was well between us two.

* * * * *

On from dream to dream I past,
But the first sweet vision cast
Mystic radiance o'er the last.

* * * * *

When I woke the pale night lay
Still, expectant of the day;
All about the chamber hung
Tender shade of twilight gloom;
The fair dream hovered round me, clung
To my thought like faint perfume:-
Like sweet odours, such as cling
To the void flask, which erst encloses
Attar of rose; or the pale string
Of amber which has lain with roses.

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Dream Poems
  1. 51. The Dream
    Amy Levy
  2. 52. The Slave's Dream
    Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
  3. 53. The Dream Of A Girl Who Lived At Seven-O..
    William Brighty Rands
  4. 54. The Berg (A Dream)
    Herman Melville
  5. 55. The Dream Of Eugene Aram
    Thomas Hood
  6. 56. A Dream
    Mathilde Blind
  7. 57. Z---------'s Dream
    Anne Brontë
  8. 58. The Dream Of A Boy Who Lived At Nine-Elms
    William Brighty Rands
  9. 59. "When My Dream Walked Through The Door!"
    Garland E. Day
  10. 60. Dream-Pedlary
    Thomas Lovell Beddoes
  11. 61. Life's Dream
    James T. Wray
  12. 62. The Dream Of Those Days
    Thomas Moore
  13. 63. The Nearest Dream Recedes, Unrealized.
    Emily Dickinson
  14. 64. Dream A Dream
    Tim Cook
  15. 65. Unstable Dream
    Sir Thomas Wyatt
  16. 66. I Was Again Beside Thee In A Dream
    Mathilde Blind
  17. 67. A Dream Of Bric-A-Brac
    John Hay
  18. 68. Dream By Dream
    Lora Colon
  19. 69. The Opal Dream Cave
    Katherine Mansfield
  20. 70. A Dream, A Dream
    Matthew Petranovich
  21. 71. Dream Into Faust Dream - Wael Moreicheh
    WAEL MOREICHEH
  22. 72. Dream A Little Dream For Me
    Jack Harris
  23. 73. A Dream Within A Dream,
    DEEP DARK SOUL POET
  24. 74. Dream Is Dream
    Asif Baloch
  25. 75. Golden Dream
    Robert Fuller Murray
  26. 76. Haiku 14 - A Dream, Only A Dream
    Parameswaran Nair Damodaran ..
  27. 77. I Know A Dream Called America
    Theresa M. Leicht
  28. 78. Dream Within A Dream Within A Dream......
    Madathil Rajendran Nair
  29. 79. A Dream Within A Dream
    Sidi J. Mahtrow
  30. 80. Dream-Pedlary (Excerpt)
    Thomas Lovell Beddoes
  31. 81. Somewhere In Dream Land My Dream
    Heather Burns
  32. 82. The First Love Dream
    Henry Clay Work
  33. 83. A Dream Is A Dream
    Rebecca Ryan
  34. 84. You Dream, A Little Dream Of Me.
    Shaun Cronick
  35. 85. A Dream Within A Dream
    Sandra Feldman
  36. 86. The Dream
    Robert William Service
  37. 87. Sweet Nuptial Dream
    O. Abbas Mimiko
  38. 88. A Dream Within A Dream
    aashka thakkar
  39. 89. A Dream Within A Dream
    john tiong chunghoo
  40. 90. 030. A Dream Within A Dream
    Dipankar Sadhukhan
  41. 91. The Dream I Dared Not Dream
    David Zvekic
  42. 92. Dream Journeys
    Esther F. Ryder
  43. 93. You Dream And I Dream
    Nadim Lost Soul
  44. 94. A Dream In Dream
    Sathya Narayana
  45. 95. Dream Is Only Dream
    Mohabeer Beeharry
  46. 96. Dream A Different Dream
    Aqua Flower
  47. 97. I Dream A Dream
    Muzahidul Reza
  48. 98. Dream Within A Dream
    Richard Wlodarski
  49. 99. Dream Or No-Dream
    Pranab K. Chakraborty
  50. 100. Dream We Dream
    James McLain

New Dream Poems

  1. Autograph Muse Acrostic Name Blade Bosto.., Clinton Siegle
  2. Dream After Dream For A Heart Wish For R.., Raymond Sawyer
  3. No More Dream, Sareena Asrar
  4. I'mma Dream, Titto Mutny
  5. 1 God - Poems On God, Creator - Volume 4, Nikhil Parekh
  6. I Dream, Tim Adams
  7. A Dream Is A Dream, Deanna Gorton
  8. Immortal Mother, Nikhil Parekh
  9. Only A Mother, Nikhil Parekh
  10. Hand-In-Hand., Nikhil Parekh

Dream Poems

  1. The Dream Of Eugene Aram

    'Twas in the prime of summer-time An evening calm and cool, And four-and-twenty happy boys Came bounding out of school: There were some that ran and some that leapt, Like troutlets in a pool. Away they sped with gamesome minds, And souls untouched by sin; To a level mead they came, and there They drave the wickets in: Pleasantly shone the setting sun Over the town of Lynn. Like sportive deer they coursed about, And shouted as they ran,- Turning to mirth all things of earth, As only boyhood can; But the Usher sat remote from all, A melancholy man! His hat was off, his vest apart, To catch heaven's blessed breeze; For a burning thought was in his brow, And his bosom ill at ease: So he leaned his head on his hands, and read The book upon his knees! Leaf after leaf he turned it o'er Nor ever glanced aside, For the peace of his soul he read that book In the golden eventide: Much study had made him very lean, And pale, and leaden-eyed. At last he shut the pond'rous tome, With a fast and fervent grasp He strained the dusky covers close, And fixed the brazen hasp; 'Oh, God! could I so close my mind, And clasp it with a clasp! ' Then leaping on his feet upright, Some moody turns he took,- Now up the mead, then down the mead, And past a shady nook,- And lo! he saw a little boy That pored upon a book. 'My gentle lad, what is't you read - Romance or fairy fable? Or is it some historic page, Of kings and crowns unstable? ' The young boy gave an upward glance,- 'It is 'The Death of Abel.'' The Usher took six hasty strides, As smit with sudden pain, - Six hasty strides beyond the place, Then slowly back again; And down he sat beside the lad, And talked with him of Cain; And, long since then, of bloody men, Whose deeds tradition saves; Of lonely folks cut off unseen, And hid in sudden graves; Of horrid stabs, in groves forlorn, And murders done in caves; And how the sprites of injured men Shriek upward from the sod. - Ay, how the ghostly hand will point To show the burial clod: And unknown facts of guilty acts Are seen in dreams from God! He told how murderers walk the earth Beneath the curse of Cain, - With crimson clouds before their eyes, And flames about their brain: For blood has left upon their souls Its everlasting stain! 'And well,' quoth he, 'I know for truth, Their pangs must be extreme, - Woe, woe, unutterable woe, - Who spill life's sacred stream! For why, Methought last night I wrought A murder, in a dream! One that had never done me wrong - A feeble man and old; I led him to a lonely field, The moon shone clear and cold: Now here, said I, this man shall die, And I will have his gold! 'Two sudden blows with a ragged stick, And one with a heavy stone, One hurried gash with a hasty knife, - And then the deed was done: There was nothing lying at my foot But lifeless flesh and bone! 'Nothing but lifeless flesh and bone, That could not do me ill; And yet I feared him all the more, For lying there so still: There was a manhood in his look, That murder could not kill! ' 'And lo! the universal air Seemed lit with ghastly flame; Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes Were looking down in blame: I took the dead man by his hand, And called upon his name! 'O God! it made me quake to see Such sense within the slain! But when I touched the lifeless clay, The blood gushed out amain! For every clot, a burning spot Was scorching in my brain! 'My head was like an ardent coal, My heart as solid ice; My wretched, wretched soul, I knew, Was at the Devil's price: A dozen times I groaned: the dead Had never groaned but twice! 'And now, from forth the frowning sky, From the Heaven's topmost height, I heard a voice - the awful voice Of the blood-avenging sprite - 'Thou guilty man! take up thy dead And hide it from my sight! ' 'I took the dreary body up, And cast it in a stream, - A sluggish water, black as ink, The depth was so extreme: My gentle boy, remember this Is nothing but a dream! 'Down went the corse with a hollow plunge, And vanished in the pool; Anon I cleansed my bloody hands, And washed my forehead cool, And sat among the urchins young, That evening in the school. 'Oh, Heaven! to think of their white souls, And mine so black and grim! I could not share in childish prayer, Nor join in Evening Hymn: Like a Devil of the Pit I seemed, 'Mid holy Cherubim! 'And peace went with them, one and all, And each calm pillow spread; But Guilt was my grim Chamberlain That lighted me to bed; And drew my midnight curtains round With fingers bloody red! 'All night I lay in agony, In anguish dark and deep, My fevered eyes I dared not close, But stared aghast at Sleep: For Sin had rendered unto her The keys of Hell to keep! 'All night I lay in agony, From weary chime to chime, With one besetting horrid hint, That racked me all the time; A mighty yearning, like the first Fierce impulse unto crime! 'One stern, tyrannic thought, that made All other thoughts its slave; Stronger and stronger every pulse Did that temptation crave, - Still urging me to go and see The Dead Man in his grave! 'Heavily I rose up, as soon As light was in the sky, And sought the black accursèd pool With a wild misgiving eye: And I saw the Dead in the river-bed, For the faithless stream was dry. 'Merrily rose the lark, and shook The dewdrop from its wing; But I never marked its morning flight, I never heard it sing: For I was stooping once again Under the horrid thing. 'With breathless speed, like a soul in chase, I took him up and ran; There was no time to dig a grave Before the day began: In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves, I hid the murdered man! 'And all that day I read in school, But my thought was otherwhere; As soon as the midday task was done, In secret I went there: And a mighty wind had swept the leaves, And still the corpse was bare! 'Then down I cast me on my face, And first began to weep, For I knew my secret then was one That earth refused to keep: Or land, or sea, though he should be Ten thousand fathoms deep. 'So wills the fierce avenging Sprite, Till blood for blood atones! Ay, though he's buried in a cave, And trodden down with stones, And years have rotted off his flesh, - The world shall see his bones! 'Oh God! that horrid, horrid dream Besets me now awake! Again- again, with dizzy brain, The human life I take: And my red right hand grows raging hot, Like Cranmer's at the stake. 'And still no peace for the restless clay, Will wave or mould allow; The horrid thing pursues my soul - It stands before me now! ' The fearful Boy looked up, and saw Huge drops upon his brow. That very night while gentle sleep The urchin's eyelids kissed, Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn, Through the cold and heavy mist; And Eugene Aram walked between, With gyves upon his wrist.

  2. The Berg (A Dream)

    I saw a ship of material build (Her standards set, her brave apparel on) Directed as by madness mere Against a solid iceberg steer, Nor budge it, though the infactuate ship went down. The impact made huge ice-cubes fall Sullen in tons that crashed the deck; But that one avalanche was all-- No other movement save the foundering wreck. Along the spurs of ridges pale, Not any slenderest shaft and frail, A prism over glass-green gorges lone, Toppled; or lace or traceries fine, Nor pendant drops in grot or mine Were jarred, when the stunned ship went down. Nor sole the gulls in cloud that wheeled Circling one snow-flanked peak afar, But nearer fowl the floes that skimmed And crystal beaches, felt no jar. No thrill transmitted stirred the lock Of jack-straw neddle-ice at base; Towers indermined by waves--the block Atilt impending-- kept their place. Seals, dozing sleek on sliddery ledges Slipt never, when by loftier edges Through the inertia ovrthrown, The impetuous ship in bafflement went down. Hard Berg (methought), so cold, so vast, With mortal damps self-overcast; Exhaling still thy dankish breath-- Adrift dissolving, bound for death; Though lumpish thou, a lumbering one-- A lumbering lubbard loitering slow, Impingers rue thee ad go slow Sounding thy precipice below, Nor stir the slimy slug that sprawls Along thy dead indifference of walls.

  3. The Slave's Dream

    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. Wide through the landscape of his dreams The lordly Niger flowed; Beneath the palm-trees on the plain Once more a king he strode; And heard the tinkling caravans Descend the mountain-road. He saw once more his dark-eyed queen Among her children stand; They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks, They held him by the hand!-- A tear burst from the sleeper's lids And fell into the sand. And then at furious speed he rode Along the Niger's bank; His bridle-reins were golden chains, And, with a martial clank, At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel Smiting his stallion's flank. Before him, like a blood-red flag, The bright flamingoes flew; >From morn till night he followed their flight, O'er plains where the tamarind grew, Till he saw the roofs of Caffre huts, And the ocean rose to view. At night he heard the lion roar, And the hyena scream, And the river-horse, as he crushed the reeds Beside some hidden stream; And it passed, like a glorious roll of drums, Through the triumph of his dream. The forests, with their myriad tongues, Shouted of liberty; And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud, With a voice so wild and free, That he started in his sleep and smiled At their tempestuous glee. He did not feel the driver's whip, Nor the burning heat of day; For Death had illumined the Land of Sleep, And his lifeless body lay A worn-out fetter, that the soul Had broken and thrown away!

  4. The Dream Of A Girl Who Lived At Seven-Oaks

    Seven sweet singing birds up in a tree; Seven swift sailing ships white upon the sea; Seven bright weather-cocks shining in the sun; Seven slim race-horses ready for a run; Seven gold butterflies, flitting overhead; Seven red roses blowing in a garden bed; Seven white lilies, with honey bees inside them; Seven round rainbows with clouds to divide them; Seven pretty little girls with sugar on their lips; Seven witty little boys, whom everybody tips; Seven nice fathers, to call little maids joys; Seven nice mothers, to kiss the little boys; Seven nights running I dreamt it all plain; With bread and jam for supper I could dream it all again!