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Edgar Allan Poe (19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849 / Boston)
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Dreams
Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream!
My spirit not awakening, till the beam
Of an Eternity should bring the morrow.
Yes! tho' that long dream were of hopeless sorrow,
'Twere better than the cold reality
Of waking life, to him whose heart must be,
And hath been still, upon the lovely earth,
A chaos of deep passion, from his birth.
But should it be- that dream eternally
Continuing- as dreams have been to me
In my young boyhood- should it thus be given,
'Twere folly still to hope for higher Heaven.
For I have revell'd, when the sun was bright
I' the summer sky, in dreams of living light
And loveliness,- have left my very heart
In climes of my imagining, apart
From mine own home, with beings that have been
Of mine own thought- what more could I have seen?
'Twas once- and only once- and the wild hour
From my remembrance shall not pass- some power
Or spell had bound me- 'twas the chilly wind
Came o'er me in the night, and left behind
Its image on my spirit- or the moon
Shone on my slumbers in her lofty noon
Too coldly- or the stars- howe'er it was
That dream was as that night-wind- let it pass.
I have been happy, tho' in a dream.
I have been happy- and I love the theme:
Dreams! in their vivid coloring of life,
As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife
Of semblance with reality, which brings
To the delirious eye, more lovely things
Of Paradise and Love- and all our own!
Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known.
Read poems about / on: dream, happy, hope, wind, birth, passion, sorrow, summer, power, moon, heaven, home, night, sky, life, sun, light, heart, star
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Very good poem. I like his poems a lot.
Very Nice, and well scripted! With inspiration and yet the dismay of this life; it reveals the inner depth of living one's dream though it may never come to past because it is a matter of living in the mind or making one's mind become a matter of reality! Very Well Done!
Dreams inspire innovation...
Unless you're in North Korea.
Dreams lead to progress...
Unless you're in North Korea.
Life ends with the end of dreams...
It seems to me that both laureate poets on this site (Olivarez & Straw) have forgotten the fallacy of the poet as subject of his own poetry. Juan alleges that Poe was 'ruined' by his stepfather because he never got a free education courtesy of Mr Allen. Kevin insists that the 'decadent end of Romanticism' contributed to Poe's retreat into a dream world. And Eric, read again your comment that 'a dream of hopeless sorrow' surpasses 'cold reality'. Duh! that's just the point!
A small easily portable volume, with poems and short stories of Edgar Alan Poe, accompanied me upon younger days of travel, contrasting with different cultures and historical scenic sites. Later the 'Leaves Of Grass' by Walt Whitman also. To read and ponder masters like Poe and writings like 'from Song of Myself' by Walt Whitman gives voice to thoughts and questions generations of poets have no choice but to reflect upon. Their voices are an essential part of us. As they gave so we receive. We must ever return to the source of dreams to regenerate our souls.
o to write like this.
This Dreams is light hearted and interesting too unlike his usual works that are expressed in a mysterious and suspense way!
The life of human beings, relates to something called dreams that considered as a prediction. We build our life upon it. we should have dreams with which our life become so sweet and nice