Treasure Island

William Cullen Bryant

(November 3, 1794 – June 12, 1878 / Boston)

A Dream


I had a dream--a strange, wild dream--
Said a dear voice at early light;
And even yet its shadows seem
To linger in my waking sight.

Earth, green with spring, and fresh with dew,
And bright with morn, before me stood;
And airs just wakened softly blew
On the young blossoms of the wood.

Birds sang within the sprouting shade,
Bees hummed amid the whispering grass,
And children prattled as they played
Beside the rivulet's dimpling glass

Fast climbed the sun: the flowers were flown,
There played no children in the glen;
For some were gone, and some were grown
To blooming dames and bearded men.

'Twas noon, 'twas summer: I beheld
Woods darkening in the flush of day,
And that bright rivulet spread and swelled,
A mighty stream, with creek and bay.

And here was love, and there was strife,
And mirthful shouts, and wrathful cries,
And strong men, struggling as for life,
With knotted limbs and angry eyes.

Now stooped the sun--the shades grew thin;
The rustling paths were piled with leaves;
And sunburnt groups were gathering in,
From the shorn field, its fruits and sheaves.

The river heaved with sullen sounds;
The chilly wind was sad with moans;
Black hearses passed, and burial-grounds
Grew thick with monumental stones.

Still waned the day; the wind that chased
The jagged clouds blew chillier yet;
The woods were stripped, the fields were waste,
The wintry sun was near its set.

And of the young, and strong, and fair,
A lonely remnant, gray and weak,
Lingered, and shivered to the air
Of that bleak shore and water bleak.

Ah! age is drear, and death is cold!
I turned to thee, for thou wert near,
And saw thee withered, bowed, and old,
And woke all faint with sudden fear.

'Twas thus I heard the dreamer say,
And bade her clear her clouded brow;
'For thou and I, since childhood's day,
Have walked in such a dream till now.

'Watch we in calmness, as they rise,
The changes of that rapid dream,
And note its lessons, till our eyes
Shall open in the morning beam.'

Submitted: Monday, April 05, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (A Dream by William Cullen Bryant )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Agony 2, Michael McParland
  2. Single-minded, gajanan mishra
  3. Last night was looking in my eyes, valentin savin
  4. Craving, Foster Teegarden
  5. Rain in summer امطار صيفية, MOHAMMAD SKATI
  6. Poets everywhere, hasmukh amathalal
  7. New Sandwich, Von Kimball Barney
  8. Careless, Foster Teegarden
  9. Butterflies, Deborah Kelley
  10. Blurred, Foster Teegarden

Poem of the Day

poet Rupert Brooke

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
...... Read complete »

   

Trending Poems

  1. 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
  2. Daffodils, William Wordsworth
  3. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  4. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  5. Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
  6. Being With You, Heather Burns
  7. No Man Is An Island, John Donne
  8. Invictus, William Ernest Henley
  9. 1914 V: The Soldier, Rupert Brooke
  10. If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda

Trending Poets

[Hata Bildir]