A Woman homer Sung
IF any man drew near
When I was young,
I thought, 'He holds her dear,'
And shook with hate and fear.
But O! 'twas bitter wrong
If he could pass her by
With an indifferent eye.
Whereon I wrote and wrought,
And now, being grey,
I dream that I have brought
To such a pitch my thought
That coming time can say,
'He shadowed in a glass
What thing her body was.'
For she had fiery blood
When I was young,
And trod so sweetly proud
As 'twere upon a cloud,
A woman Homer sung,
That life and letters seem
But an heroic dream.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Related quotes
Every Young Mans Dream
She was my guiding light
She was my day and night
I hung on every word, no matter wrong or right
She could raise me up to heights Ive never seen
And the coming of age is every young mans dream
Oh, oh shes every young mans dream
Oh, oh shes every young mans dream
She was the first for me
She wet my thirst for me
If I was feeling down
She was a nurse for me
She could take me up to heights Ive never been
And the coming of age is every young mans dream
Oh, oh, shes every young mans dream
Oh, oh shes every young mans dream
Oh, oh shes every young mans dream
Oh, oh shes every young mans dream
Oh, tu es toujours dans mon coeur
I like to raise my glass
I like to praise the past
Some things go on forever
Some things never last
She could raise me up
She was my fantasy
And the coming of age is every young mans dream
Oh, oh shes every young mans dream
Oh, oh shes every young mans dream
Oh, eres siempre en mi mente
She was my guiding light
She was my day and night
I hung on every word, no matter wrong or right
She could raise me up to heights Ive never seen
And the coming of age is every young mans dream.....chorus to fade
(sweet)
(copyright 1980 garthward limited)
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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.
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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No Thing To Fear
Fear source
No where
Fear source
No thing
Fear thought
Cold sweat
Fear thought
Shrieks
Fear dream
No time
Fear dream
No place
What am I afraid of?
What is that?
Fear come and get me
Do it now
Nothing happens..
Suddenly
Sublime grace
All encompassing light
All fear evaporated
New born
This moment
A breath of life
poem by Wim Haverkamp
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Love's Young Dream
Oh! the days are gone, when Beauty bright
My heart's chain wove;
When my dream of life, from morn till night,
Was love, still love.
New hope may bloom,
And days may come,
Of milder calmer beam,
But there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream:
No, there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream.
Though the bard to purer fame may soar,
When wild youth's past;
Though he win the wise, who frown'd before,
To smile at last;
He'll never meet
A joy so sweet,
In all his noon of fame,
As when first he sung to woman's ear
His soul-felt flame,
And, at every close, she blush'd to hear
The one loved name.
No, -- that hallow'd form is ne'er forgot
Which first love traced;
Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot
On memory's waste.
'Twas odour fled
As soon as shed;
'Twas morning's winged dream;
'Twas a light, tht ne'er can shine again
On life's dull stream:
Oh! 'twas light that n'er can shine again
On life's dull stream.
poem by Thomas Moore
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Enigma of the Knight
I dreamt that I was dreaming
And in my dream beheld
A knight in fading armour
His name from me withheld.
Relentlessly the tolling
Did saturate the air,
And filled the empty graveyard...
The one with no-one there.
His sword within his scabbard
Still sharp and virgin clean,
I wondered if to battle
This knight had ever been?
No blood upon the countenance
Beneath the iron hood;
No answer to my question,
The mystery still stood.
Of toil and sad confusion
And hatred and disgrace
He told me, then I looked again
And thought I knew his face;
I felt I recognised the voice
That whispered soft as mute:
'A song will be our epitaph,
Sung sweetly on the lute.'
The vision turned and made to leave,
I asked him not to go,
He drew a little closer saying:
'Do you wish to know?
The timer drawn of molten glass
Is running out of sand;
This dream within another
You will never understand.'
His life was nearly finished
And so, I thought, my dream,
I turned away and over
To try my sleep redeem;
Then dreamt that I had woken
Still puzzled by the knight,
Then woke again to find that
I, like he, had lost the fight.
(Written April/May 1996)
poem by John Carter Brown
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I Want To Keep Dreaming
I dream when it’s night,
I dream when it’s day,
I dream of what I once did,
I dream of what I will say.
I dream of you,
I dream of me,
I dream we are together,
Together we are free.
I dream of sailing,
Drifting on a cloud,
I dream we are floating,
And together we are proud.
We are proud of each other,
Of what we have done,
Proud of the children,
That haven’t begun.
Don’t wake me yet,
I want to keep dreaming,
Dreaming of a time,
When we were dreaming together.
poem by Cathryn Martin
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Dreaming
You were high above me
popular;
your family had money.
The girls
chased you
brazenly,
but I thought
just maybe
your eye
caught mine
but could not risk
being wrong
could not face Risk's Rejection.
Maybe it is something
I am imagining..
But it has become my dream;
You and I.
A secret dream
which I cannot share
with anyone
because if I do
people will laugh.
I told my best friend
and she said 'Wow'
Over and over again.
but she had no comment
for me
or encouragement.
I then knew
my Reality Test Score
came back
Negative.
How to dream
if you can't have the dream
you want to dream?
What is the use of dreaming
if what you want in dreaming
is forbidden?
I can hold on to it if I desire
but this becomes the standard
for what is for me desirable.
How to embrace
anyone
or anything less
without it seeming
a Coming Down
from what
my dream
says is best?
'Well, ' my Mom said
'You know you are allowed
more than one dream.
There will be others
and they will be there
for you to work toward;
yours to get.'
And true I did get
more than one dream
and you know dear
I did have a better dream
and that dream is you.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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One Life
One life, is like one prayer, one love to share.
One thought, one dream. one world, one meaning.
A man thats lost everything holds his faith in his heart.
Speaks to God of broken dreams, never wondering why when nothings heard ... one prayer.
A woman cries in frustration, her man holds it inside.
They forgot what got them here, the vows they promised to stand by ... one love.
One life is like one prayer, one love to share.
One thought, one dream. one world, one meaning.
It dont cost much for you to get to heaven, you just got to say your prayers.
If you want to stand with your saviors, you better learn how to bow your head.
Now bend your knees and bruise the earth and pray.
Heed the cries of the war child. mothers hold them to their breasts.
Fathers fight an enemy and fear breeds unto itself ... one world.
One life, is like one prayer, one love to share.
One thought, one dream. one world, one meaning. one life ... one
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Host Of The Air
O'DRISCOLL drove with a song
The wild duck and the drake
From the tall and the tufted reeds
Of the drear Hart Lake.
And he saw how the reeds grew dark
At the coming of night-tide,
And dreamed of the long dim hair
Of Bridget his bride.
He heard while he sang and dreamed
A piper piping away,
And never was piping so sad,
And never was piping so gay.
And he saw young men and young girls
Who danced on a level place,
And Bridget his bride among them,
With a sad and a gay face.
The dancers crowded about him
And many a sweet thing said,
And a young man brought him red wine
And a young girl white bread.
But Bridget drew him by the sleeve
Away from the merry bands,
To old men playing at cards
With a twinkling of ancient hands.
The bread and the wine had a doom,
For these were the host of the air;
He sat and played in a dream
Of her long dim hair.
He played with the merry old men
And thought not of evil chance,
Until one bore Bridget his bride
Away from the merry dance.
He bore her away in his atms,
The handsomest young man there,
And his neck and his breast and his arms
Were drowned in her long dim hair.
O'Driscoll scattered the cards
And out of his dream awoke:
Old men and young men and young girls
Were gone like a drifting smoke;
But he heard high up in the air
A piper piping away,
And never was piping so sad,
And never was piping so gay.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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The Mysterious Cat
A chant for a children's pantomime dance, suggested by a picture painted by George Mather Richards.
I saw a proud, mysterious cat,
I saw a proud, mysterious cat
Too proud to catch a mouse or rat—
Mew, mew, mew.
But catnip she would eat, and purr,
But catnip she would eat, and purr.
And goldfish she did much prefer—
Mew, mew, mew.
I saw a cat—'twas but a dream,
I saw a cat—'twas but a dream
Who scorned the slave that brought her cream—
Mew, mew, mew.
Unless the slave were dressed in style,
Unless the slave were dressed in style
And knelt before her all the while—
Mew, mew, mew.
Did you ever hear of a thing like that?
Did you ever hear of a thing like that?
Did you ever hear of a thing like that?
Oh, what a proud mysterious cat.
Oh, what a proud mysterious cat.
Oh, what a proud mysterious cat.
Mew . . . mew . . . mew.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Why Fades A Dream
WHY fades a dream?
An iridescent ray
Flecked in between the tryst
Of night and day.
Why fades a dream? —
Of consciousness the shade
Wrought out by lack of light and made
Upon life's stream.
Why fades a dream?
That thought may thrive,
So fades the fleshless dream;
Lest men should learn to trust
The things that seem.
So fades a dream,
That living thought may grow
And like a waxing star-beam glow
Upon life's stream —
So fades a dream.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Letter To A Dream Named Anna
My dear sweet Anna,
You are like a dream come true, but I fear that you are just a dream. A dream I had one night so long ago. How I wish that you were real to me for I could devote the rest of my life with a woman like you. If I had the world I would lay it at your feet. A woman as beautiful as your self can only be a dream. All my waking hours I dream of a lovely lady like you.
I would fly you away to my arms if I could. I have not the means to do such a thing so you remain a dream. A dream I wished I could have, but I have to face reality each day knowing you are so far away. I am hunted by your spell over me. You are a dream that I wish never to wake from. For if I were to pass away in my dream, I would die a happy man knowing an angel loved me once.
To hold and kiss you would be heaven divine. Your lips are perfect and sensuous. Your eyes are warm and welcoming. Your face men would die for. Your hair is so perfect and neat. You are so sultry and sexy only to be found in a dream. What else could any man ask for? I am but a mere mortal touched by an angel for you are like a wisp of the wind. You can be felt but never touched.
You are too lovely to be a lone. Any man that would pass you up is a fool. How I have prayed and wish you were real. How I wish you were that dream that came true. How I wish that when I wake from my dream I saw your lovely face looking back at me for then I would know that I have truly died and went to heaven. I would know that all my prayers are now answered. O’ what a lovely day that would be, but you are just a dream and I am awake now.
dreams
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Even If You Dream
(hues / burnand)
Im picking up paper
Im doing the things that
I never thought Id do again
Im writing you letters
Im getting the better
Of things I thought Id lose again
Chorus:
You know I wish I was your lover
Even if you dream of him
I wish I was your brother
Baby when you dream of him
If you dream of him?
If you dream of him
Im sitting in graveyards
Im doing the things that
I never thought Id do again
I got in your backyard
I got so nervous
I never thought Id breathe again
Repeat chorus
Baby I need you
Baby Im in love with you
I wish I was your lover
Even if you dream of him
(oh if you dream, even if you dream of him
Oh if you dream, even if you dream of him)
Repeat chorus
Baby I need you
Baby Im in love with you
I wish I was your lover even if you dream of him
Even if you dream of him
song performed by by Wang Chung
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stolen Car
I met a little girl and I settled down
In a little house out on the edge of town
We got married, and swore wed never part
Then little by little we drifted from each others heart
At first I thought it was just restlessness
That would fade as time went by and our love grew deep
In the end it was something more I guess
That tore us apart and made us weep
And Im driving a stolen car
Down on eldridge avenue
Each night I wait to get caught
But I never do
She asked if I remembered the letters I wrote
When our love was young and bold
She said last night she read those letters
And they made her feel one hundred years old
And Im driving a stolen car
On a pitch black night
And Im telling myself Im gonna be alright
But I ride by night and I travel in fear
That in this darkness I will disappear
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dreams
We go to bed with a dream,
We get up with a dream.
All our life we strive for a dream.
All our life we dream.
It’s beautiful to live with a dream,
Though sometimes we suffer.
There are moments we scream
And life seems to be a tougher.
We all dream to achieve a goal.
Our dream is an elixir of longevity.
It’s an elixir for our undying soul,
It’s Gods gift and His charity.
The one who can dream survive,
A dream widens the world,
That one always feels alive.
Inside the brain a dream unfurls.
Calendars are just ruthless,
But we are still proud of our age.
Even being toothless (ha ha)
We dream to perform on a stage.
The book of life I cherish,
I try to reach my dream.
My soul makes it garish
And strive for another dream.
May be my dream won’t come true
As devil hurts sometimes
But the beautiful picture I drew
Will be the bells chimes.
So, dream, my dear friend,
Up to the last breath, up to the end!
©Larisa Rzhepishevska
February 15,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Herr Hitler
Hitler, the Man Who Created Israel.
I have just looked at some picture of Hitler as a young soldier,
he wears a grey uniform walks in a grey street and buildings
are grey. It appears he and his contemporaries lived at a time
before colours were invented.
Looking at his youthful indistinct feature, there is absolutely
nothing about this man, the painter of pretty postcard, that
he had in him so much hate and a gift of oratory to go with it.
yes he brought colour ok, mostly blood red.
A movie about a stammering king has won an Oscar, I can’t
but think if Hitler had a bad stammer he would be laughed
off the stage and reduced to painting, say, houses; and Israel
would still be a Zionist’s dream.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Love Letters
She held a pack of love letters tied with ribbons and bows.
these were the love letters that she would never show.
Every one of them was dated first to last
These were the letters that held a life past.
Times may pass and things may change
But memories stay the same.
The writing of love letters had slowly disappeared
But she held on to them from year to year.
She sat with the letters in her lap.
As the tears rolled down her eyes
He had said he would be with her
Till the day he died
And fifty years later
He met his maker
And was carried to the cemetery
by the undertaker.
The letters had been written
with tenderness and love
Proclaiming every thing
Even the stars above.
He said life was meaningless if with her
His life he could not share.
And losing her was something
he could not bear.
Now that he was gone and she
Was left all alone.
The house didn’t seem
like much of a home.
She knew her children would not understand
Why she held the love letters in her hand.
These were the memories that kept her alive
And on that she couldn’t deny.
But her mind and body was fading fast
And she knew she could not last.
So to her children she bequeathed
The letters that she cherished all her life
For that was her husband, and she was his wife.
These are the love letters that your father
Wrote to me when we were young and carefree.
He told me of all that life had to offer.
And of all the love he had for me
And that he wanted to raise a family.
When you read his letters you will know
Why I loved this man so.
And now it’s time for me to go.
Because your father awaits me on the other side
And we’ll be together for all of time
poem by Louis Rams
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Man From Pakistan
This man was walking, down by the curb,
He had lost his saddle in the mud.
This guy was crying, tears from his eyes,
Part of his body was paralyzed.
I thought it was a dream.
Strangest thing Ive seen.
Oer and oer and over, til I think I dont exist.
So I went up to him, and asked him what
He was doing, and who he was.
He said his memory had been dilluted,
He said he once was electrocuted.
I thought it was a dream.
Strangest thing Ive seen.
Oer and oer and over, til I think I dont exist.
He said hed come from pakistan,
Where he was beaten by a policeman.
Thats why he walked, a duty crawl.
And acted like he knew it all.
I thought it was a dream.
Strangest thing Ive seen.
Oer and oer and over, til I think I dont exist.
song performed by by Flaming Lips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Son
He hurried away, young heart of joy, under our Devon sky!
And I watched him go, my beautiful boy, and a weary woman was I.
For my hair is grey, and his was gold; he'd the best of his life to live;
And I'd loved him so, and I'm old, I'm old; and he's all I had to give.
Ah yes, he was proud and swift and gay, but oh how my eyes were dim!
With the sun in his heart he went away, but he took the sun with him.
For look! How the leaves are falling now, and the winter won't be long. . . .
Oh boy, my boy with the sunny brow, and the lips of love and of song!
How we used to sit at the day's sweet end, we two by the firelight's gleam,
And we'd drift to the Valley of Let's Pretend, on the beautiful river of Dream.
Oh dear little heart! All wealth untold would I gladly, gladly pay
Could I just for a moment closely hold that golden head to my grey.
For I gaze in the fire, and I'm seeing there a child, and he waves to me;
And I run and I hold him up in the air, and he laughs and shouts with glee;
A little bundle of love and mirth, crying: "Come, Mumsie dear!"
Ah me! If he called from the ends of the earth I know that my heart would hear.
Yet the thought comes thrilling through all my pain: how worthier could he die?
Yea, a loss like that is a glorious gain, and pitiful proud am I.
For Peace must be bought with blood and tears, and the boys of our hearts must pay;
And so in our joy of the after-years, let us bless them every day.
And though I know there's a hasty grave with a poor little cross at its head,
And the gold of his youth he so gladly gave, yet to me he'll never be dead.
And the sun in my Devon lane will be gay, and my boy will be with me still,
So I'm finding the heart to smile and say: "Oh God, if it be Thy Will!"
poem by Robert William Service
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Everybody dreams.
Everybody dreams.
Children dream,
Adults dream,
Old people dream.
I dream, too.
I dream about the friends with whom I'll grow old,
I dream about the person whose hands I'll hold,
I dream about being young and in love,
I dream about loved ones, looking down from above.
I dream of the places I'll one day see,
I dream of being wild and free,
I dream of my house, high on the rocks,
I dream of the sand underneath my socks.
I dream of the people I'd love to greet,
I dream of the things I'll say when we meet,
I dream of hearing their voices sing,
I dream of being happy with everything.
I dream of travelling with a map in my hand,
I dream of never coming back to this land,
I dream of finding myself - in sense
I dream of jumping far off this fence.
I dream of any things that one day I'll know,
I dream of the freedom: a dream I won't let go,
I dream of my future and marvel at my pride
As my heart is flying and singing inside.
poem by Twilight Whispers
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