Famous Short Dream Poems. Short Dream Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Dream short poems
See also: Short Member Poems
Here we are all, by day; by night we're hurl'd
By dreams, each one into a several world.
Within that little Hive
Such Hints of Honey lay
As made Reality a Dream
And Dreams, Reality --
The Suburbs of a Secret
A Strategist should keep,
Better than on a Dream intrude
To scrutinize the Sleep.
YOUR whitelight flashes the frost to-night
Moon of the purple and silent west.
Remember me one of your lovers of dreams.
This is my dream,
It is my own dream,
I dreamt it.
I dreamt that my hair was kempt.
Then I dreamt that my true love unkempt it.
If wild my breast and sore my pride,
I bask in dreams of suicide;
If cool my heart and high my head,
I think, "How lucky are the dead!"
Dreams are the subtle Dower
That make us rich an Hour --
Then fling us poor
Out of the purple Door
Into the Precinct raw
Possessed before --
I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.
the sunset, their exceptions.
Rain drinks up
spring, our dreams.
The eagle sees
and youth, the visions.
The Lassitudes of Contemplation
Beget a force
They are the spirit's still vacation
That him refresh --
The Dreams consolidate in action --
What mettle fair
Before my bed
there is bright moonlight
So that it seems
Like frost on the ground:
Lifting my head
I watch the bright moon,
Lowering my head
I dream that I'm home.
No ship of all that under sail or steam
Have gathered people to us more and more
But Pilgrim-manned the Mayflower in a dream
Has been her anxious convoy in to shore.
Dreaming when Dawn’s Left Hand was in the Sky,
I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry,
“Awake, my Little ones, and fill the cup
Before Life’s Liquor in its Cup be dry.”
Soria, in blue mountains,
on the fields of violet,
how often I’ve dreamed of you
on the plain of flowers,
where the Guadalquivir runs
past golden orange-trees
to the sea.
Allegra, rising from her canopied dreams,
Slides both white feet across the slanted beams
Which lace the peacock jalousies: behold
An idol of fine clay, with feet of gold
COVER me over
In dusk and dust and dreams.
Cover me over
And leave me alone.
Cover me over,
You tireless, great.
Hear me and cover me,
Bringers of dusk and dust and dreams.
Two nights I have dreamed of you
Once as an adolescent, evanescent
Yet tangible still to the spirit’s touch,
Then as a ten year old in the shared
Secret garden of our imagination.
For a picture
This Pekingese, that makes the sand-grains spin,
Is digging little tunnels to Pekin:
Dream him emerging in a porcelain cave
Where wounded dragons stain a pearly wave.
SOLID, ironical, rolling orb!
Master of all, and matter of fact!—at last I accept your terms;
Bringing to practical, vulgar tests, of all my ideal dreams,
And of me, as lover and hero.
Ay, workman, make me a dream,
A dream for my love.
Cunningly weave sunlight,
Breezes, and flowers.
Let it be of the cloth of meadows.
And -- good workman --
And let there be a man walking thereon.
LIPS half-willing in a doorway.
Lips half-singing at a window.
Eyes half-dreaming in the walls.
Feet half-dancing in a kitchen.
Even the clocks half-yawn the hours
And the farmers make half-answers.
Stir and shiver
The reeds and rushes
By the river:
As if in dream,
The lone moon's silver
Sleeks the stream.
What old sorrow,
What lost love,
Moon, reeds, rushes,
Dream you of?
It came to him in rainbow dreams,
Blent with the wisdom of the sages,
Of spirit and of passion born;
In words as lucent as the morn
He prisoned it, and now it gleams
A jewel shining through the ages.