I HAVE lighted the dear old pipe again To think the matter o'er, Just as a legion of Dartmouth men Have done like me before. The same old dream curls up in smoke Blue as Havana's skies, And I feel the iron strength of its yoke And I think of its Paradise. Thinking and dreaming! yet never an act Of mine to build the dream; Do I worship the dream and hate the fact? Ah, this the case doth seem. False the impression! yet you and I Have worshiped the dream too long; Then no more dreaming — but do it or die! We are not a weakling throng. When the dream is girded in steel and stone We can take our pipes again, And smoke all together, or smoke alone The peace of Wheelock's men. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING DAY: NIGHT AND SLEEP by AMY LOWELL MELANCHOLIA by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR IDYLLS OF THE KING: THE PASSING OF ARTHUR by ALFRED TENNYSON AN OLD CASTLE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH CHRISTMAS, 1917 by BRENT DOW ALLINSON |