Dreams, by Edgar Allan Poe


Oh! That my young life were a lasting dream!
My spirit not awakening, till the beam
Of an Eternity should bring the morrow.
Yes! Though 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 bethat dream eternally
Continuingas dreams have been to me
In my young boyhoodshould it thus be given,
'Twere folly still to hope for higher Heaven.
For I have revelled when the sun was bright
I' the summer sky, in dreams of living light
And loveliness, have left my very heart
Inclines of my imaginary apart
From mine own home, with beings that have been
Of mine own thoughtwhat more could I have seen?
'Twas onceand only onceand the wild hour
From my remembrance shall not passsome power
Or spell had bound me'twas the chilly wind
Came o'er me in the night, and left behind
Its image on my spiritor the moon
Shone on my slumbers in her lofty noon
Too coldlyor the starshowe'er it was
That dream was that that night-windlet it pass.
I have been happy, though in a dream.
I have been happyand 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 Loveand all my own!
Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known.

poems.one - Edgar Allan Poe

Edgar Allan Poe