Glenara
O, heard ye yon pibroch sound sad in the gale,
Where a band cometh slowly with weeping and wail?
'Tis the chief of Glenara laments for his dear;
And her sire and her people are called to her bier.
Glenara came first, with the mourners and shroud;
Her kinsmen they followed, but mourned not aloud;
Their plaids all their bosoms were folded around;
They marched all in silence, - they looked on the ground.
In silence they reached, over mountain and moor,
To a heath where the oak-tree grew lonely and hoar;
'Now here let us place the gray stone of her cairn; -
Why speak ye no word?' said Glenara the stern.
'And tell me, I charge ye, ye clan of my spouse,
Why fold ye your mantles, why cloud ye your brows?'
So spake the rude chieftain; no answer is made.
But each mantle, unfolding, a dagger displayed.
'I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her shroud.'
Cried a voice from the kinsmen, all wrathful and loud;
'And empty that shroud and that coffin did seem;
Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!'
O, pale grew the cheek of that chieftain, I ween,
When the shroud was unclosed and no lady was seen;
When a voice from the kinsmen spoke louder in scorn, -
'Twas the youth who had loved the fair Ellen of Lorn,
'I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her grief,
I dreamt that her lord was a barbarous chief;
On a rock of the ocean fair Ellen did seem;
Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!'
In dust low the traitor has knelt to the ground,
And the desert revealed where his lady was found;
From a rock of the ocean that beauty is borne;
Now joy to the house of fair Ellen of Lorn.
poem by Thomas Campbell
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Related quotes
I Dreamt, I Dreamt Of Poppies
I dreamt, I dreamt of poppies
Growing wild in yonder field
They were blooming red and wonderful
Like a dancer, laced and frilled
Fluttering in the sunshine
Like waves of autumn grain
Or a rolling sea…majestic
As a queen in summer reign
I dreamt, I dreamt of poppies
What a glorious display
In a blaze that flamed the skyline
Of a desert far away
I couldn't see the reason
Yet, they flourished in the sand
When all around was barren
In this brutal foreign land
I dreamt, I dreamt of poppies
Like a ribbon drawn in blood
A slash on the horizon
In a soulless evil flood
The sky was dark and eerie
And smoke had filled the air
The atmosphere, chaotic
With shouting everywhere
I dreamt, I dreamt of poppies
In a garden by a stream
The blooms were bold, were beautiful
More vibrant than a dream
Aside a marble stone
Where hand to heart I wept
For the soul that lay in slumber
Beneath the sod he slept
poem by Leria Hawkins
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My Dream
This is my dream,
It is my own dream,
I dreamt it.
I dreamt that my hair was kempt.
Then I dreamt that my true love unkempt it.
poem by Ogden Nash
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Last Night I Dreamt Your Perfume
Last night I dreamt your perfume
While I held you in my hand
Last night I dreamt your perfume
You will never understand
The way you make me feel
The promise that you give
Last night I dreamt your perfume
Lost in those dreams I live
Last night I dreamt your perfume
Arched fingers cupped your breast
Last night I dreamt your perfume
Felt your warm breath brush my chest
With gel coat slide I gripped you
Sensation through my veins
Last night I dreamt your perfume
She who bears no name
Last night I dreamt your perfume
Your body meshed with mine
Last night I dreamt your perfume
A guilty pleasure, sweet, sublime
Quiet by my pillow
Your touch I never feel
Last night I dreamt your perfume
This morning, wished you real
poem by Bill Smith
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Perchance to dream for friend thad
I dreamt or maybe dreamt I dreamt.
A lucid dream I could control,
in which I thought I would attempt
to contact my immortal soul.
I moved up to a higher plane.
Which I accomplished easily.
I thought perhaps that I could gain.
Some knowledge relevant to me.
I met myself and face to face
we could converse quite naturally.
Discussed the trials I must face
This seemed quite logical to me.
Was it a dream? I can’t be sure
I only know it seemed to be.
Somehow it served to reassure
me that all is as it ought to be.
Was it a dream or possibly
an altered state of consciousness.
A different reality
It could be either one I guess.
What does it matter anyway.
A dream may have reality
which we perceive a different way.
When viewed imaginatively.
Imagination is the key
which opens portals we can pass
in spirit form so easily
But must return too soon alas.
I dreamt or maybe dreamt I dreamt
a lucid dream I could control.
Perchance I failed in my attempt.
Not ready yet to be made whole.
29-Jan-09 http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Dream Ring of the Desert
THE MERCHANT Abu Khan shunned the customs of his race,
And sought the cultured wisdom of the West.
His daughter fair Leola had the desert’s supple grace,
With an English education of the best.
The suitors for her hand were as grains of desert sand
But the merchant bade the Arab swarm begone:
And he swore a mighty oath, she should only make troth
With an Englishman an Englishman or none!
The chieftain Ben Kamir, tho’ rejected, stayed to plead,
But Abu Khan replied, ‘Thy suit is vain.
I cast aside my kinsmen and I scorn the prophet’s creed;
So get thee to thy tents, across the plain.’
‘Enough,’ the Chief replied, ‘Thine eyes are blind with pride,
But Allah hears my prayers and guides my star,
With patience I shall wait till I am called by Fate,
And then I shall return to Akabar.’
The right man came at last in the month of Ramadhan,
An Englishman who learned to love her soon.
His suit was proudly sanctioned by the merchant Abu Khan,
And the wedding was to be at the full moon.
The merchant, in his pride, thought the news too good to hide,
And it circled round the desert near and far:
Circled round and caught the ear of the chieftain Ben Kamir,
And he turned his camel’s head to Akabar.
The chieftain wore his robe of green, an emblem of his rank.
And many bowed in honour of the man.
But heedless of their reverence he beat his camel’s flank,
And rode on to the house of Abu Khan.
The merchant, from his roof, saw the chief, but held aloof
A suitor twice dismissed was one to shun
But Kamir declared his ride was in homage to the bride,
And the merchant’s fears vanished one by one.
‘Leola,’ said the Arab, as she came to greet the guests
‘Thy praises are beyond what I can sing,
But let this little token bring the fortune of the best.’
And he placed upon her hand an opal ring.
‘’Tis more than what it seems, and its spell shall gild thy dreams,
For ’twas carried by Mahomet, Allah’s Priest.’
Then the chieftain said goodbye, and she watched him with a sigh,
As he rode across the desert to the East.
Leola dreamt a dream most strange, and nightly ’twas the same,
And love within her breast began to peep.
A voice from out the burning sandhills called and called her name,
And waking she would long again for sleep.
The wedding eve’s bright moon saw her rise as from a swoon,
With the dream voice ringing still within her ear,
Saw her glide toward the sand, where the stately palmtrees stand,
To the desert, and the arms of Ben Kamir.
The chieftain pointed Eastward to the plains he loved so well,
And told her of his plans for hasty flight.
The dream-ring on her finger held her soul within its spell.
And they rode across the desert thro’ the night.
On the morrow, lined with care, at the Maghrib sunset prayer,
The merchant joined the worshippers unshod.
And he cried with spirit broken, as the Mueddin’s chant was spoken,
‘Mahomet is the prophet, God is God.’
poem by John Milton Hayes
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Life's Dream...
Yesterday I wanted to write you a sweet sonnet,
But my mind grew blank and my hands grew idle,
Whilst I slept I dreamt for you an epic love story,
Yet my fingers were too dreamy to type these words,
And in my dream I dreamt a portrait of dandelions and angels,
Yet our angel of love became lost in the wide blue yonder,
Last night I dreamt for you a poem for all the ages,
But alas I died in my dream and my poem never grew wings,
Last night I dreamed we were as one in heart and dance,
Yet my arms were empty and my heart bereft of all emotion,
So I curled up in my blanket of loneliness and dreamed on,
Shall you perhaps meet me there, so we may dance? ...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Temptation
Yesternight I dreamt some false
Of you holding me
Preventing me from the fall
And I dreamt not just the lust
But the worry in your eyes
For me that you had
That you were unable to hide.
Yesternight I dreamt some strange
Of you clutching me tight
So desperate to be close
More desperate to escape that while
And I dreamt not just the touches
But the sensations it sent down my spine
Your each move on my skin
That my words can never define.
Yesternight I dreamt you
In an irresistable unusualness
That I always want you to be in
But too tough to explain
And I dreamt not just your hardness
But the softness in your breadth
The warmth it contained
Though chilling me in each sense.
Yesternight I dreamt our togetherness
Of that’s so unreal
Still feels too tempting to be true
Until I feel you everywhere
And I know I’m dreaming no more
I feel myself craving for you
To bless my needs with exact boons
I can’t wait for it to come soon……
poem by Jaya Mishra
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I Dreamt Of Her
I dreamt of her and she was in my room,
You dreamt of him and he was in your room,
I dreamt of you and you were in my room,
You dreamt of me and i was in your room,
And like the chemical chain of life!
But, this muse of love is all about us.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Incompetence our best defence! !
I dreamt a dream wherein I dreamt,
I dreamt a dream of deep content.
But all the while I knew I dreamt.
I tried to wake but my attempt.
My mind just treated with contempt.
Am I the dreamer or the dream
I can’t be wholly confident.
That it is not some experiment.
Conducted without my consent.
To monitor the dreams I’ve dreamt
to analyse my dreams content.
By some arm of the government
Whose only purpose and intent
Is sadly all too evident.
Establishing a precedent.
By which they hope they can prevent
expression of our discontent.
They should not be too complacent.
Because they are incompetent
and grossly overconfident.
We’ll find a way to circumvent
their wish to be omnipotent.
We have to win this argument
and then provide due punishment.
For those found guilty of intent
to use this foul experiment.
Which demonstrates the full extent
of methods used by government.
The things they do clandestinely
Because they dare not openly.
admit to seeking thought control.
Because they know that heads would roll.
We have the right to privacy.
There is no way that they should be.
poking and prying in our mind
just to see if they can find.
another way they can repress
the freedoms that we should possess.
The dream I dreamt may yet come true
I can’t be sure no more can you.
Sunday,02 May 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Sliver Dream
To a curly hair girl
Last night, I dreamt in the dream
Orange tree, growing at my heart
Under blue sky, on the blue ocean
Wind of change, lifting my heart
Last night, I dream in the dream
Curly hair girl, walking softly
Visible into my eye, I only saw her shadow
With wing of angel, flying slowly
Over my starry sky, in my dream
Oh, curly hair girl, beheld me with your eye
And you will see, life is not a dream
Or love is not dream in my eye
Through lonely night, I dreamt of song
That neither lyric, nor music
Nor word, but I still could hear the song
Of your walking, softly, on my heart.
poem by Kathup Tsering
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Rosabelle
O listen, listen, ladies gay!
No haughty feat of arms I tell;
Soft is the note, and sad the lay
That mourns the lovely Rosabelle.
‘Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew!
And, gentle lady, deign to stay!
Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch,
Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day.
‘The blackening wave is edged with white;
To inch and rock the sea-mews fly;
The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite,
Whose screams forebode that wreck is nigh.
‘Last night the gifted Seer did view
A wet shroud swathed round lady gay;
Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch;
Why cross the gloomy firth to-day?’
’Tis not because Lord Lindesay’s heir
Tonight at Roslin leads the ball,
But that my lady-mother there
Sits lonely in her castle-hall.
’Tis not because the ring they ride,
And Lindesay at the ring rides well,
But that my sire the wine will chide
If ’tis not fill’d by Rosabelle.’
—O’er Roslin all that dreary night
A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam;
’Twas broader than the watch-fire’s light,
And redder than the bright moonbeam.
It glared on Roslin’s castled rock,
It ruddied all the copse-wood glen;
’Twas seen from Dryden’s groves of oak,
And seen from cavern’d Hawthornden.
Seem’d all on fire that chapel proud
Where Roslin’s chiefs uncoffin’d lie,
Each Baron, for a sable shroud,
Sheathed in his iron panoply.
Seem’d all on fire within, around,
Deep sacristy and altar’s pale;
Shone every pillar foliage-bound,
And glimmer’d all the dead men’s mail.
Blazed battlement and pinnet high,
Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair—
So still they blaze, when fate is nigh
The lordly line of high Saint Clair.
There are twenty of Roslin’s barons bold
Lie buried within that proud chapelle;
Each one the holy vault doth hold
But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle!
And each Saint Clair was buried there
With candle, with book, and with knell;
But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung
The dirge of lovely Rosabelle.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Ch 04 On The Advantages Of Silence Story 12
A preacher imagined his miserable voice to be pleasing and raised useless shouts, thou wouldst have said that the crow of separation had become the tune of his song; and the verse- for the most detestable of voices is surely the voice of asses- appears to have been applicable to him. This distich also concerns him:
When the preacher Abu-l-Fares brays
At his voice Istakhar-Fares quakes.
On account of the position he occupied the inhabitants of the locality submitted to the hardship and did not think proper to molest him. In course of time, however, another preacher of that region, who bore secret enmity towards him, arrived on a visit and said to him: ‘I have dreamt about thee, may it end well!’ ‘What hast thou dreamt?’ ‘I dreamt that thy voice had become pleasant and that the people were comfortable during thy sermons.’ The preacher meditated a while on these words and then said: ‘Thou hast dreamt a blessed dream because thou hast made me aware of my defect. It has become known to me that I have a disagreeable voice and that the people are displeased with my loud reading. Accordingly I have determined henceforth not to address them except in a subdued voice’:
I am displeased with the company of friends
To whom my bad qualities appear to be good.
They fancy my faults are virtues and perfection.
My thorns they believe to be rose and jessamine.
Say. Where is the bold and quick enemy
To make me aware of my defects?
He whose faults are not told him
Ignorantly thinks his defects are virtues.
Lewti, Or The Circassian Love-Chaunt
At midnight by the stream I roved,
To forget the form I loved.
Image of Lewti! from my mind
Depart; for Lewti is not kind.
The Moon was high, the moonlight gleam
And the shadow of a star
Heaved upon Tamaha's stream;
But the rock shone brighter far,
The rock half sheltered from my view
By pendent boughs of tressy yew.--
So shines my Lewti's forehead fair,
Gleaming through her sable hair,
Image of Lewti! from my mind
Depart; for Lewti is not kind.
I saw a cloud of palest hue,
Onward to the moon it passed;
Still brighter and more bright it grew,
With floating colours not a few,
Till it reach'd the moon at last:
Then the cloud was wholly bright,
With a rich and amber light!
And so with many a hope I seek
And with such joy I find my Lewti;
And even so my pale wan cheek
Drinks in as deep a flush of beauty!
Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind,
If Lewti never will be kind.
The little cloud-it floats away,
Away it goes; away so soon?
Alas! it has no power to stay:
Its hues are dim, its hues are grey--
Away it passes from the moon!
How mournfully it seems to fly,
Ever fading more and more,
To joyless regions of the sky--
And now 'tis whiter than before!
As white as my poor cheek will be,
When, Lewti! on my couch I lie,
A dying man for love of thee.
Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind--
And yet, thou didst not look unkind.
I saw a vapour in the sky,
Thin, and white, and very high;
I ne'er beheld so thin a cloud:
Perhaps the breezes that can fly
Now below and now above,
Have snatched aloft the lawny shroud
Of Lady fair--that died for love.
For maids, as well as youths, have perished
From fruitless love too fondly cherished.
Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind--
For Lewti never will be kind.
Hush! my heedless feet from under
Slip the crumbling banks for ever:
Like echoes to a distant thunder,
They plunge into the gentle river.
The river-swans have heard my tread,
And startle from their reedy bed.
O beauteous birds! methinks ye measure
Your movements to some heavenly tune!
O beauteous birds! 'tis such a pleasure
To see you move beneath the moon,
I would it were your true delight
To sleep by day and wake all night.
I know the place where Lewti lies
When silent night has closed her eyes:
It is a breezy jasmine-bower,
The nightingale sings o'er her head:
Voice of the Night! had I the power
That leafy labyrinth to thread,
And creep, like thee, with soundless tread,
I then might view her bosom white
Heaving lovely to my sight,
As these two swans together heave
On the gently-swelling wave.
Oh! that she saw me in a dream,
And dreamt that I had died for care;
All pale and wasted I would seem
Yet fair withal, as spirits are!
I'd die indeed, if I might see
Her bosom heave, and heave for me!
Soothe, gentle image! soothe my mind!
To-morrow Lewti may be kind.
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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What I Want Is What Ive Got
All that I want
In my life
Is the feeling of peace
Deep within me truly
I took a chance
I let go
I promised myself
That it wouldnt scare me
Miracles appear I know
Now I can see it show
cause i
Found out what I dreamt of
And looked it up
At this very moment
What I want is what Ive got
Found out what was missing
And I looked it up and
At this very moment
What I want is what Ive got
Life is too short
To hold back
I wont live in the past
Being lonely now I know
This is the time
Of my life
Yes Im sure what I want
Is what Ive got
Miracles appear I know
Now I can see it show
cause i
Found out what I dreamt of
And I looked it up
At this very moment
What I want is what Ive got
Found out what was missing
And I looked it up and
At this very moment
What I want is what Ive got
Now Ive found out what ive
Been dreaming of
Its the feeling of peace deep within me
Cause life is too short to hold back
I made up my mind I just
Found out what I dreamt of
And looked it up
At this very moment
What I want is what Ive got
Found out what was missing
And I looked it up and
At this very moment
What I want is what Ive got
Found out what I dreamt of
And looked it up
At this very moment
What I want is what Ive got
Found out what was missing
And I looked it up and
At this very moment
What I want is what Ive got
song performed by by Westlife
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Falling Lame
I dreamt of becoming an actor,
Lured by the romantic field,
Lured by the airs they’d wield.
I dreamt of becoming a writer
Lured by the value they got.
I dreamt of many things
To become of and the time went out.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Granny dreamt what Granny liked
she thought she was in some kind of Paris
some kind of Venice or a Granade
but OMG this poor Granny
was walking in a dying beauty shade
still Granny dreamt what Granny liked
and there she wore the clothes so smarty
a lot of make up and accessoir
and there she went to a botox party
she took a cab it was too far
'coz Granny dreamt what Granny liked
this absent minded little resident
with shoes expensive but mind in rags
granny voted all smiling presidents
i guess for too many colourful flags
'coz Granny dreamt what Granny liked
she had fruits to chew and meat to mince
a lover's smile and artficial teeth
preserved for her fairy tale prince
who'll take her to see a coral reef
'coz Granny dreamt what Granny liked
look at the beauty in latest outfit
listen to Granny sing hit of hits
psychology biology re-mix released
if you wanna know what it's all about
get ready for an elderly feast
and follow the Granny leave all doubt
in a dream extreme or so it seems
'coz Granny dreams what Granny likes
(no charge no blame if you do the same
I only wonder why you'd been told
it's not ok to be old...
let Granny dream what Granny likes)
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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My Heavenly Dream
Oh! sleeping is an endless pleasure,
Which is an unlimited leisure,
I dream about the fairies,
Who fly above the valleys,
I dream about the cool breeze,
Which is surely a tension ease,
I dream about the candies and the toffees,
Which are shaped like cherries,
I dream of the ocean,
Which is like soft thread that is woven,
I dream about the chocolates,
Which are admired by the pirates,
I dream about the endless pleasures,
That have no effects of tortures,
I dream of shimmering, glass palaces,
That have existed there for ages,
I dream of lush gardens filled with gold and ruby,
They are surely very thorny,
I dream of cute little babies,
Who have very heafty bodies,
There are many dreams that I have dreamt,
But this is the best one that I have ever dreamt........
poem by Sherbanu Molu
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Lamenting ladies
A lady laments a voyage of pleasure
And cornucopia, English, weather.
A lady laments a man's time for leisure
But never the daffodil fields of treasure.
A lady laments her chicken-wire home;
Believing the cockerels out on the roam.
A lady laments good-sparkling youth
But only half-hearted in truth.
A lady laments the political tool
But never the boy's public-school.
A lady laments the critic's eye;
Scorning only to whisper and spy.
But-above-all: what a genteel lady laments
Is that once lost innocence.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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I Dreamt I Caught A Little Owl
‘I dreamt I caught a little owl
And the bird was blue -’
‘But you may hunt for ever
And not find such a one.’
‘I dreamt I set a sunflower,
And red as blood it grew -’
‘But such a sunflower never
Bloomed beneath the sun.’
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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One Sunny Day I Dreamt
One sunny day I dreamt
I saw a world of pure light-
the purest light that danced inside
my heart and poured upon
the city streets with joy...
One sunny day I dreamt
I saw my love, her smile
upon me like a gentle wind,
somewhere beyond the lonely
shopping malls, beyond
the hungry beggars stooping
dazed and staring at the vulgar
wealth that burns the eyes...
One sunny day I dreamt a paradise!
And then I laughed a very silly
laugh that burst inside me
like a flock of birds that
seemed like people arguing inside
about vacuum cleaners, underwear,
cars, recession, pimples, prices,
and old wars...
One sunny day I dreamt my tears
were like precious gems inside
each living room and bedroom on
display, available to all at no cost!
One sunny day I was a poet lost,
directing all the traffic on
the streets with nothing but
my eyes...
One day-one lonely sunny day-
I dreamt I saw you, darling,
in this sea of lies
where everything is safe
and guaranteed, where
everything is sold to
satisfy your every wish
and need-whether you
need it or you need it not,
it doesn't matter much...
One sunny day I dreamt
I felt your touch that woke
me up to write this childish song...
I looked for you, my love, but you were gone.
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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