Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116826" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Dream</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world,<br>A boundary between the things misnamed<br>Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world,<br>And a wide realm of wild reality,<br>And dreams in their development have breath,<br>And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy;<br>They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts,<br>They take a weight from off waking toils,<br>They do divide our being; they become<br>A portion of ourselves as of our time,<br>And look like heralds of eternity;<br>They pass like spirits of the past - they speak<br>Like sibyls of the future; they have power -<br>The tyranny of pleasure and of pain;<br>They make us what we were not - what they will,<br>And shake us with the vision that's gone by,<br>The dread of vanished shadows - Are they so?<br>Is not the past all shadow? - What are they?<br>Creations of the mind? - The mind can make<br>Substances, and people planets of its own<br>With beings brighter than have been, and give<br>A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.<br>I would recall a vision which I dreamed<br>Perchance in sleep - for in itself a thought,<br>A slumbering thought, is capable of years,<br>And curdles a long life into one hour.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I saw two beings in the hues of youth<br>Standing upon a hill, a gentle hill,<br>Green and of mild declivity, the last<br>As 'twere the cape of a long ridge of such,<br>Save that there was no sea to lave its base,<br>But a most living landscape, and the wave<br>Of woods and corn-fields, and the abodes of men<br>Scattered at intervals, and wreathing smoke<br>Arising from such rustic roofs: the hill<br>Was crowned with a peculiar diadem<br>Of trees, in circular array, so fixed,<br>Not by the sport of nature, but of man:<br>These two, a maiden and a youth, were there<br>Gazing - the one on all that was beneath<br>Fair as herself - but the boy gazed on her;<br>And both were young, and one was beautiful:<br>And both were young - yet not alike in youth.<br>As the sweet moon on the horizon's verge,<br>The maid was on the eve of womanhood;<br>The boy had fewer summers, but his heart<br>Had far outgrown his years, and to his eye<br>There was but one beloved face on earth,<br>And that was shining on him; he had looked<br>Upon it till it could not pass away;<br>He had no breath, no being, but in hers:<br>She was his voice; he did not speak to her,<br>But trembled on her words; she was his sight,<br>For his eye followed hers, and saw with hers,<br>Which coloured all his objects; - he had ceased<br>To live within himself: she was his life,<br>The ocean to the river of his thoughts,<br>Which terminated all; upon a tone,<br>A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and flow,<br>And his cheek change tempestuously - his heart<br>Unknowing of its cause of agony.<br>But she in these fond feelings had no share:<br>Her sighs were not for him; to her he was<br>Even as a brother - but no more; 'twas much,<br>For brotherless she was, save in the name<br>Her infant friendship had bestowed on him;<br>Herself the solitary scion left<br>Of a time-honoured race. - It was a name<br>Which pleased him, and yet pleased him not - and why?<br>Time taught him a deep answer - when she loved<br>Another; even now she loved another,<br>And on the summit of that hill she stood<br>Looking afar if yet her lover's steed<br>Kept pace with her expectancy, and flew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.<br>There was an ancient mansion, and before<br>Its walls there was a steed caparisoned:<br>Within an antique Oratory stood<br>The Boy of whom I spake; - he was alone,<br>And pale, and pacing to and fro: anon<br>He sate him down, and seized a pen, and traced<br>Words which I could not guess of; then he leaned<br>His bowed head on his hands and shook, as 'twere<br>With a convulsion - then rose again,<br>And with his teeth and quivering hands did tear<br>What he had written, but he shed no tears.<br>And he did calm himself, and fix his brow<br>Into a kind of quiet: as he paused,<br>The Lady of his love re-entered there;<br>She was serene and smiling then, and yet<br>She knew she was by him beloved; she knew -<br>For quickly comes such knowledge - that his heart<br>Was darkened with her shadow, and she saw<br>That he was wretched, but she saw not all.<br>He rose, and with a cold and gentle grasp<br>He took her hand; a moment o'er his face<br>A tablet of unutterable thoughts<br>Was traced, and then it faded, as it came;<br>He dropped the hand he held, and with slow steps<br>Retired, but not as bidding her adieu,<br>For they did part with mutual smiles; he passed<br>From out the massy gate of that old Hall,<br>And mounting on his steed he went his way;<br>And ne'er repassed that hoary threshold more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.<br>The Boy was sprung to manhood: in the wilds<br>Of fiery climes he made himself a home,<br>And his Soul drank their sunbeams; he was girt<br>With strange and dusky aspects; he was not<br>Himself like what he had been; on the sea<br>And on the shore he was a wanderer;<br>There was a mass of many images<br>Crowded like waves upon me, but he was<br>A part of all; and in the last he lay<br>Reposing from the noontide sultriness,<br>Couched among fallen columns, in the shade<br>Of ruined walls that had survived the names<br>Of those who reared them; by his sleeping side<br>Stood camels grazing, and some goodly steeds<br>Were fastened near a fountain; and a man,<br>Glad in a flowing garb, did watch the while,<br>While many of his tribe slumbered around:<br>And they were canopied by the blue sky,<br>So cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful,<br>That God alone was to be seen in heaven.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> V</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.<br>The Lady of his love was wed with One<br>Who did not love her better: in her home,<br>A thousand leagues from his, - her native home,<br>She dwelt, begirt with growing Infancy,<br>Daughters and sons of Beauty, - but behold!<br>Upon her face there was a tint of grief,<br>The settled shadow of an inward strife,<br>And an unquiet drooping of the eye,<br>As if its lid were charged with unshed tears.<br>What could her grief be? - she had all she loved,<br>And he who had so loved her was not there<br>To trouble with bad hopes, or evil wish,<br>Or ill-repressed affliction, her pure thoughts.<br>What could her grief be? - she had loved him not,<br>Nor given him cause to deem himself beloved,<br>Nor could he be a part of that which preyed<br>Upon her mind - a spectre of the past.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> VI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.<br>The Wanderer was returned. - I saw him stand<br>Before an altar - with a gentle bride;<br>Her face was fair, but was not that which made<br>The Starlight of his Boyhood; - as he stood<br>Even at the altar, o'er his brow there came<br>The selfsame aspect and the quivering shock<br>That in the antique Oratory shook<br>His bosom in its solitude; and then -<br>As in that hour - a moment o'er his face<br>The tablet of unutterable thoughts<br>Was traced - and then it faded as it came,<br>And he stood calm and quiet, and he spoke<br>The fitting vows, but heard not his own words,<br>And all things reeled around him; he could see<br>Not that which was, nor that which should have been -<br>But the old mansion, and the accustomed hall,<br>And the remembered chambers, and the place,<br>The day, the hour, the sunshine, and the shade,<br>All things pertaining to that place and hour,<br>And her who was his destiny, came back<br>And thrust themselves between him and the light;<br>What business had they there at such a time?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> VII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.<br>The Lady of his love; - Oh! she was changed,<br>As by the sickness of the soul; her mind<br>Had wandered from its dwelling, and her eyes,<br>They had not their own lustre, but the look<br>Which is not of the earth; she was become<br>The queen of a fantastic realm; her thoughts<br>Were combinations of disjointed things;<br>And forms impalpable and unperceived<br>Of others' sight familiar were to hers.<br>And this the world calls frenzy; but the wise<br>Have a far deeper madness, and the glance<br>Of melancholy is a fearful gift;<br>What is it but the telescope of truth?<br>Which strips the distance of its fantasies,<br>And brings life near in utter nakedness,<br>Making the cold reality too real!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> VIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.<br>The Wanderer was alone as heretofore,<br>The beings which surrounded him were gone,<br>Or were at war with him; he was a mark<br>For blight and desolation, compassed round<br>With Hatred and Contention; Pain was mixed<br>In all which was served up to him, until,<br>Like to the Pontic monarch of old days,<br>He fed on poisons, and they had no power,<br>But were a kind of nutriment; he lived<br>Through that which had been death to many men,<br>And made him friends of mountains; with the stars<br>And the quick Spirit of the Universe<br>He held his dialogues: and they did teach<br>To him the magic of their mysteries;<br>To him the book of Night was opened wide,<br>And voices from the deep abyss revealed<br>A marvel and a secret. - Be it so.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> IX</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My dream is past; it had no further change.<br>It was of a strange order, that the doom<br>Of these two creatures should be thus traced out<br>Almost like a reality - the one<br>To end in madness - both in misery</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Byron">Byron</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116826" data-title="The Dream de Byron" data-description="I/Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world,/A boundary between the things misnamed/Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world,/And a wide realm of wild reality,/And dreams in their development have breath,/And tears, and tortures, and the ..."></div>
</div>
</div>