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DREAM OF YOUTH, by             Poem Explanation     Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: With faces bright, as ruddy corn






With faces bright, as ruddy corn,
With faces bright, as ruddy corn,
Touched by the sunlight of the morn;
Touched by the sunlight of the morn;
With rippling hair; and gleaming eyes,
With rippling hair; and gleaming eyes,
Wherein a sea of passion lies;
Wherein a sea of passion lies;
Hair waving back, and eyes that gleam
Hair waving back, and eyes that gleam
With deep delight of dream on previous hit dream;
With deep delight of dream on dream;
With full lips, curving into song;
With full lips, curving into song;
With shapely limbs, upright and strong:
With shapely limbs, upright and strong:
The youths on holy service throng.
The youths on holy service throng.

Vested in white, upon their brows

Are wreaths fresh twined from dewy boughs
Vested in white, upon their brows
And flowers they strow along the way,
Are wreaths fresh twined from dewy boughs:
Still dewy from the birth of day.
And flowers they strow along the way,
So, to each reverend altar come,
Still dewy from the birth of day.
They stand in adoration: some
So, to each reverend altar come,
Swing up gold censers; till the air
They stand in adoration: some
Is blue and sweet, with smoke of rare
Swing up gold censers; till the air
Spices, that fetched from Egypt were.
Is blue and sweet, with smoke of rare
In voices of calm, choral tone,
Spices, that fetched from Egypt were.
Praise they each God, with praise his own:

As children of the Gods, is seen

Their glad solemnity of mien:
In voices of calm, choral tone,
So fair a spirit of the skies
Praise they each God, with praise his own:
Is in their going: and their eyes
As children of the Gods, is seen
Look out upon the peopled earth,
Their glad solemnity of mien:
As theirs were some diviner birth:
So fair a spirit of the skies
And clear and courtly is their mirth.
Is in their going: and their eyes
Lights of the labouring world, they seem:
Look out upon the peopled earth,
Or, to the tired, like some fresh stream.
As theirs were some diviner birth:
Their dignity of perfect youth
And clear and courtly is their mirth.
Compels devotion, as doth truth:

So right seems all, they do, they are.

Old age looks wistful, from afar,
Lights of the labouring world, they seem:
To watch their beauty, as they go,
Or, to the tired, like some fresh stream.
Radiant and free, in ordered row;
Their dignity of perfect youth
And fairer, in the watching, grow.
Compels devotion, as doth truth:
Fair though it be, to watch unclose
So right seems all, they do, they are.
The nestling glories of a rose,
Old age looks wistful, from afar,
Depth on rich depth, soft fold on fold:
To watch their beauty, as they go,
Though fairer be it, to behold
Radiant and free, in ordered row;
Stately and sceptral lilies break
And fairer, in the watching, grow.
To beauty, and to sweetness wake:

Yet fairer still, to see and sing,

One fair thing is, one matchless thing:
Fair though it be, to watch unclose
Youth, in its perfect blossoming.
The nestling glories of a rose,
The magic of a golden grace
Depth on rich depth, soft fold on fold:
Brings fire and sweetness on each face:
Though fairer be it, to behold
Till, from their passage, every heart
Stately and sceptral lilies break
Takes fire, and sweetness in the smart:
To beauty, and to sweetness wake:
Till virtue lives, for all who own
Yet fairer still, to see and sing,
Their majesty, in them alone:
One fair thing is, one matchless thing:
Till careless hearts, and idle, take
Youth, in its perfect blossoming.
Delight in living, for their sake;

Worship their footsteps, and awake.

Beside the tremulous, blue sea,
The magic of a golden grace
Clear at sunset, they love to be:
Brings fire and sweetness on each face:
And they are rarely sad, but then.
Till, from their passage, every heart
For sorrow touches them, as men,
Takes fire, and sweetness in the smart:
Looking upon the calm of things,
Till virtue lives, for all who own
That pass, and wake rememberings
Their majesty, in them alone:
Of holy and of ancient awe;
Till careless hearts, and idle, take
The charm of immemorial Law:
Delight in living, for their sake;
What we see now, the great dead saw!
Worship their footsteps, and awake.
Upon a morn of storm, a swan,

Breasting the cold stream, cold and wan,

Throws back his neck in snowy length
Beside the tremulous, blue sea,
Between his snowy wings of strength:
Clear at sunset, they love to be:
Against him the swift river flows,
And they are rarely sad, but then.
The proudlier he against it goes,
For sorrow touches them, as men,
King of the waters! For his pride
Looking upon the calm of things,
Bears him upon a mightier tide:
That pass, and wake rememberings
May death not be by youth defied?
Of holy and of ancient awe;
But the red sun is gone: and gleams
The charm of immemorial Law:
Of delicate moonlight waken dreams,
What we see now, the great dead saw!
Dreams, and the mysteries of peace:

Shall this fair darkness ever cease?

Here is no drear, no fearful Power,
Upon a morn of storm, a swan,
But life grows fuller with each hour,
Breasting the cold stream, cold and wan,
Full of the silence, that is best:
Throws back his neck in snowy length
Earth lies, with soothed and quiet breast,
Between his snowy wings of strength:
Beneath the guardian stars, at rest.
Against him the swift river flows,
At night, behold them! Where lights burn
The proudlier he against it goes,
By moonlit olives, see them turn
King of the waters! For his pride
Full faces toward the sailing moon,
Bears him upon a mightier tide:
Nigh lovelier than beneath high noon!
May death not be by previous hit youth defied?
Throw back their comely moulded throats,

Whence music on the night wind floats!

And through the fragrant hush of night
But the red sun is gone: and gleams
Their lustrous eyes make darkness bright:
Of delicate moonlight waken dreams next hit ,
Their laugh loads darkness with delight.
Dreams, and the mysteries of peace:
Almost the murmuring sea is still:
Shall this fair darkness ever cease?
Almost the world obeys their will.
Here is no drear, no fearful Power,
Such youth moves pity in stern Fates,
But life grows fuller with each hour,
And sure death wellnigh dominates:
Full of the silence, that is best:
Their passion kindles such fair flame,
Earth lies, with soothed and quiet breast,
As from divine Achilles came:
Beneath the guardian stars, at rest.
A vehement ardour thrills their breasts,

And beauty's benediction rests

On earth, and on earth's goodliest guests.
At night, behold them! Where lights burn
The music of their sighing parts
By moonlit olives, see them turn
A silence: and their beating hearts
Full faces toward the sailing moon,
Beat to a measure of despair:
Nigh lovelier than beneath high noon!
Ah! how the fire of youth is fair?
Throw back their comely moulded throats,
Yet may not be for ever young!
Whence music on the night wind floats!
But night hath yielded; there hath sprung
And through the fragrant hush of night
Morning upon the throne of night:
Their lustrous eyes make darkness bright:
Day comes, with solemnizing light:
Their laugh loads darkness with delight.
Consuming sorrows take to flight.

Magnificent in early bloom,

Like Gods, they triumph over gloom:
Almost the murmuring sea is still:
All things desirable are theirs,
Almost the world obeys their will.
Of beauty and of wonder, heirs:
Such youth moves pity in stern Fates,
Their cities, vassals are, which give
And sure death wellnigh dominates:
Them thanks and praise, because they live:
Their passion kindles such fair flame,
Strong, they are victors of dismay;
As from divine Achilles came:
Fair, they serve beauty every day;
A vehement ardour thrills their breasts,
Young, the sun loves to light their way.
And beauty's benediction rests
Where now is death? Where that gray land?
On earth, and on earth's goodliest guests.
Those fearless eyes, those white brows grand,

That take full sunlight and sweet air

With rapture true and debonair,
The music of their sighing parts
These have not known the touch of death!
A silence: and their beating hearts
The world hath winds: these forms have breath,
Beat to a measure of despair:
But, should death come, should dear life set,
Ah! how the fire of youth is fair,
Calm would each go: Farewell! forget
Yet may not be for ever young!
Me dead: live you serenely yet.
But night hath yielded; there hath sprung
See them! The springing of the palm
Morning upon the throne of night:
Is nought, beside their gracious calm:
Day comes, with solemnizing light:
The rippling of cool waters dies
Consuming sorrows take to flight.
To nought, before their clear replies:

The smile, that heralds their bright thought,

Brings down the splendid sun to nought.
Magnificent in early bloom,
See them! They walk the earth in state:
Like Gods, they triumph over gloom:
In right of perfect youth, held great:
All things desirable are theirs,
On whom the powers of nature wait.
Of beauty and of wonder, heirs:
No sceptre theirs, but they are kings:
Their cities, vassals are, which give
Their forms and words are royal things.
Them thanks and praise, because they live
Their simple friendship is a court,
Strong, they are victors of dismay;
Whither the wise and great resort.
Fair, they serve beauty every day;
No homage of the world, they claim:
Young, the sun loves to light their way.
But in all places lives their fame.

Sun, moon, and stars; the earth, the sea;

Yea! all things, that of beauty be,
Where now is death? Where that gray land?
Honour their true divinity.
Those fearless eyes, those white brows grand,
That take full sunlight and sweet air
With rapture true and debonair,
These have not known the touch of death!
The world hath winds: these forms have breath.
But, should death come, should dear life set,
Calm would each go: Farewell! forget
Me dead: live you serenely yet.


See them! The springing of the palm
Is nought, beside their gracious calm:
The rippling of cool waters dies
To nought, before their clear replies:
The smile, that heralds their bright thought
Brings down the splendid sun to nought.
See them! They walk the earth in state:
In right of perfect youth, held great:
On whom the powers of nature wait.


No sceptre theirs, but they are kings:
Their forms and words are royal things.
Their simple friendship is a court,
Whither the wise and great resort.
No homage of the world, they claim:
But in all places lives their fame.
Sun, moon, and stars; the earth, the sea;
Yea! all things, that of beauty be,
Honour their true divinity.






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