Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO THE SPIRIT OF DREAMS, by AGNES STRICKLAND


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO THE SPIRIT OF DREAMS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Spirit! Who to shrouded eyes
Last Line: Shades of glory on the mind.
Subject(s): Dreams; Nightmares


Spirit! who to shrouded eyes
Bringest such wild fantasies
As no waking glances yet,
In this work-day world, have met;
Thou, who o'er the mind and brain,
With thy bright ideal train,
Wrapt in slumber's mantle stealest,
And such wond'rous power revealest,
That Earth's proudest children still
Are the puppets of thy will,
In the moment when each sense
Bows to thine omnipotence.

In thy mystic dramas we
Must perforce the actors be,
And submit to every change,
Be it ne'er so wild and strange.
Taking at thy will the shape
Of owlet, kitten, bat, or ape.
Mightiest monarchs, in the hour
Of thy more despotic power,
Lay aside their regal state
For a wandering beggar's fate;
Whilst the landless wight in thee
Grasps imperial dignity.
Through the fen, the flood, the fire,
We must go at thy desire,
Over desert, rock, and mountain,
Treach'rous sands and frozen fountain,
Deep in gloomy caves of ocean,
Where the waves with restless motion
Howl above with ceaseless roar,
From bleak Norway's stormy shore;
For we passively obey
Thy unknown mysterious sway.

Oft thou dost to lovers bring
All the trembling hopes that spring
In the bosom's sealed recess,
Nurst in tearful tenderness;
Which they, waking, dare not own,
And confess to thee alone.
Thou, to eyes that weep in vain,
Bring'st the loved and lost again,
In angelic looks revealing
All the warmth of earthly feeling,
Lingering in the radiant breast
Of the purified and blest;
But thou dost with visions drear
Shake the murderer's couch with fear;
Who indeed could aptest tell
All the terrors of thy spell,
Which doth far too dreadful seem
For thy coinage, Airy dream!

Spirit, who, in gay confusion,
Through the regions of illusion
Lead'st in brilliant flights the mind,
By dull Reason unconfined;
Who, poor, grave, reflective elf,
Loves not sparklers like thyself,
But presumes not e'er to throw
Chills on thy poetic flow;
For the scene which thou dost grace,
Is for her no time or place.
When through fairy land thou rangest,
And as wind unfettered changest,
With the flash of Fancy's wing,
To some wild fantastic thing
Yet unthought-of, but all-glowing
With magic lights of thine own throwing,
Which in hues divine and bright,
After thou hast ta'en thy flight,
Long and lovely leave behind
Shades of glory on the mind.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net