Treasure Island

Stephen Spender

(28 February 1909 – 16 July 1995 / England)

Daybreak


At Dawn she lay with her profile at that angle
Which, when she sleeps, seems the carved face of an angel.
Her hair a harp, the hand of a breeze follows
And plays, against the white cloud of the pillows.
Then, in a flush of rose, she woke, and her eyes that opened
Swam in blue through her rose flesh that dawned.
From her dew of lips, the drop of one word
Fell like the first of fountains: murmured
'Darling', upon my ears the song of the first bird.
'My dream becomes my dream,' she said, 'come true.
I waken from you to my dream of you.'
Oh, my own wakened dream then dared assume
The audacity of her sleep. Our dreams
Poured into each other's arms, like streams.

Submitted: Thursday, April 22, 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 (Daybreak by Stephen Spender )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

PoemHunter.com Updates

Poem of the Day

poet Sir Walter Raleigh

EVEN such is Time, that takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, our all we have,
And pays us but with earth and dust;
   Who in the dark and silent grave,
...... Read complete »

   

Member Poem

Trending Poems

  1. 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
  2. Daffodils, William Wordsworth
  3. If, Rudyard Kipling
  4. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
  5. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  6. Invictus, William Ernest Henley
  7. If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
  8. Blackberry-Picking, Seamus Heaney
  9. Disabled, Wilfred Owen
  10. The Solitary Reaper, William Wordsworth

Trending Poets

[Hata Bildir]