Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A DREAM OF PERFECTION, by MARCUS S. C. RICKARDS First Line: I found it in a vision fair Last Line: A perfect soul, and form, and face. Subject(s): Dreams; Love; Perfection; Soul; Time; Nightmares | ||||||||
I FOUND it in a vision fair -- All I had ever longed to find -- A face illumed by beauty rare That ravished heart and mind, With smile like sunlit waves, and eyes, Whose blue disdained the sapphire skies -- A form superb whose lines and hue No classic pencil ever drew. And all, tho' wondrous bright, excelled In glory by the quickening soul That shone thro' the sweet face and held The figure in control. I felt that Virtue here displayed What threw Mortality in shade -- Love, Truth and Purity, whose birth Owed naught of parentage to Earth. And yet, so wayward is a dream, She looked like no unearthly guest, But just a woman, and supreme, As of her sex the best; Before me flashed the archetype Of my imaginings, the ripe Perfection, that in sanguine hour I deemed might haunt a mortal bower. Ah me! that we should be the sport Of wild expectancy -- that none Of all with whom we here consort May prove the hoped-for one. We mingle, for each soul to paint Her high ideal, soon to faint As rude experience re-shows The shadow cast by all that glows. Our spirits weave a web of light Round one whose casual look has power To overcloud the image bright Which fails us from that hour. Or we who in each other's eyes Read love and truth, with sad surprise, Find coolness, guile, a shattered spell, A sunny heaven changed to hell. And so before such faultless grace Of form and spirit low I bent; And on me lingers still the trace Of lofty passion spent. For who shall blame my wild regret, When half awake, with eyelids wet I knew my radiant guest had flown, And I, fond dreamer, was alone? Alone -- and shall I never meet The one for whom my spirit sighs? Must Time and Sense for ever cheat And visions tantalize? Nay -- for as water to its source Will rise -- as naught owns empty force, Whate'er the shaping soul conceives That fully, fondly, she receives. We long, long hopelessly, we think, For Truth in human guise, and lo! 'Twas mine, when hovering on the brink Of Earth's dark portico. Yet the fair visitant was more Than Fancy fashions from her store. Sleep! was all vain, all fugitive, When thou to Adam Eve couldst give? Ah! what if in pre-natal state I loved some spirit, only mine, When dreams unlock the golden gate Of an unearthly Clime? Or maybe happy Heaven cast The shade before of what at last I shall behold, admire, embrace A perfect soul, and form, and face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VARIATIONS: 14 by CONRAD AIKEN VARIATIONS: 18 by CONRAD AIKEN LIVE IT THROUGH by DAVID IGNATOW A DREAM OF GAMES by JOSEPHINE JACOBSEN THE DREAM OF WAKING by RANDALL JARRELL APOLOGY FOR BAD DREAMS by ROBINSON JEFFERS GIVE YOUR WISH LIGHT by ROBINSON JEFFERS A NATURALIST'S GRIEVANCE by MARCUS S. C. RICKARDS |
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