Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A DREAM OF JULIUS CAESAR, by ROBERT FROST



Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Rhyming Dictionary Search
A DREAM OF JULIUS CAESAR, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: A dreamy day; a gentle western breeze
Last Line: The fairy hosts of silvery light might shed.
Subject(s): Caesar, Julius (100-44 B.c.)


A dreamy day; a gentle western breeze
That murmurs softly 'midst the sylvan shades;
Above, the fleecy clouds glide slowly on
To sink from view; within the forest's depth,
A thrush's drowsy note starts echoes through
The vistas of the over-hanging trees.
All nature seems to weave a circle of
Enchantment round the mind, and give full sway
To flitting thoughts and dreams of bygone years.
Thus, as the summer afternoon wears on,
In Nature's cradle lulled to calm repose,
I watch the shifting of a purling rill,
As visions of a busy throng, of life,
Of passing days that come not back again,
Rush in confusion through my weary brain;
Till rumblings wafted o'er the distant hills,
Proclaim a timely warning to the one
Who, wandering far from shelter and from home,
Forgets that space exists, that still he lives: --
But, wrapped in Nature's all entrancing shroud,
Is lured to seek her wildest inmost realms.
The dying cadences are tossed from vale
To vale, but fall unheeded on my ear.
Anon, the winds burst on the silent scene,
And cause the leaves to dance and sing for joy.
Then clouds with bosoms darker than the night,
Rise up along the whole horizon's brink,
And all the sky is flecked with hurrying forms.
Thus, ever as the storm comes on, led by
The heralds of its wrathful power, between
The foremost rifts, like ladders long, by which
From earth to heaven the woodland nymphs may pass
Beyond the clouds, bright rays of light stretch down
Upon each grove and mead.
So, far and wide
A charm of magic breathes its spell around:
For at my feet a far upreaching ladder rests,
And as I gaze, a form, scarce seen at first,
Glides down; a moment, and before me stands,
With stately mien and noble wreathed brow,
His toga streaming to the western wind,
The restless fire still gleaming in those eyes,
Just as before the Roman Senate, years
Agone, he stood and ruled a people with
His mighty will, Caesar, first conqueror of
The Roman World. Within his hand the bolt
Of Jove gleams forth with frequent flash. Clasping
The toga's waving folds, a gem of ray
Most pure, that nigh outshines the sun, rests like
The dew of heaven. I gaze in awe, a space;
Then, with majestic mien, he points me toward
A bridge, an ancient moss-grown trunk that fell
In some fierce storm to join the brook's green banks,
And speaks: "Be gone! from Jupiter I come
To rule with storm and darkness o'er the world,"
Then with uplifted arm: "Look up, behold
My might, my legions. Conquest still is the
One passion of this fiery breast. Speak they
Farewell to all this scene of quietude
And peace; ere from this hand I launch the fire
Of Jove, and pierce the darkness with its gleam;
Ere yonder cohorts with resistless march
Spread terror in the air and vanquish light."
He speaks and vanishes from sight. The roar
Of chariot wheels breaks on my ear. The fight
Is on, for blood in torrents falls around,
Not crimson, but a lighter hue, such as
The fairy hosts of silvery light might shed.





Other Poems of Interest...



Home: PoetryExplorer.net