Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MY DREAM OF DREAMS, by ALICE CARY



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MY DREAM OF DREAMS, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Alone within my house I sit
Last Line: I hug my dream of dreams.
Subject(s): Dreams; Nightmares


ALONE within my house I sit;
The lights are not for me,
The music, nor the mirth; and yet
I lack not company.

So gayly go the gay to meet,
Nor wait my griefs to mend --
My entertainment is more sweet
Than thine, to-night, my friend.

Whilst thou, one blossom in thy hand,
Bewail'st my weary hours,
Upon my native hills I stand
Waist-deep among the flowers.

I envy not a joy of thine;
For while I sit apart
Soft summer, oh, fond friend of mine,
Is with me in my heart.

Aye, aye, I'm young to-night once more;
The years their hold have loosed,
And on the dear old homestead door
I'm watching, as I used,

The sunset hang its scarlet fringe
Along the low white clouds,
While, radiant with their tender tinge,
My visions come in crowds.

The doves fly homeward over me,
The red rose bravely gleams,
And first and last and midst I see
The dream of all my dreams.

I need not say what dream it was,
Nor how in life's lost hours
It made the glory of the grass
The splendor of the flowers.

I need not wait to paint its glow
With rainbow light nor sun;
Who ever loved that did not know
There is no dream but one?

My frosty locks grow bright and brown;
My step is light once more;
The world now dropping darkly down
Comes greenly up before.

Comes greenly up before my eyes,
With gracious splendor clad,
That world which now behind me lies
So darkly dim, so sad.

Shot over with the purpling morn,
I see the long mists roll,
And hear beneath the tasseled corn
The winds make tender dole.

I hear, and all my pulses rouse
And give back trembling thrills,
The farm-boy calling with his cows
The echoes from the hills.

So soft the plashing of the rain
Upon the peach-tree leaves,
It hardly breaks the silvery skein
The dark-browed spider weaves.

The grasshopper so faintly cries
Beneath the dock's round burs
That in the shadow where she lies
The silence scarcely stirs.

Bright tangles of the wings of birds
Along the thickets shine,
But oh, how poor are common words
To tell of bliss divine!

So let thy soft tears cease to fall,
My friend, nor longer wait;
I have my recompense for all
Thou pitiest in my fate,

The joys thou hold'st within thy glance
Thou canst not make to last;
Mine are uplifted to romance --
Immortal, changeless, fast.

When pleasures fly too far aloof,
Or pain too sorely crowds,
I go and sit beneath my roof
Of golden morning clouds.

There back to life my dead hope starts,
And well her pledge redeems,
As close within my heart of hearts
I hug my dream of dreams.





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