I STRANGE dreams of what I used to be, And what I dreamed I @3would@1 be, swim Before my vision, faint and dim As misty distances we see In pictured scenes of fairy lands; And ever on, with empty hands, And eyes that ever lie to me, And smiles that no one understands, I grope adown my destiny. II Some say I waver as I walk Along the crowded thoroughfares; And some leer in my eyes, and talk Of dulness, while I see in theirs -- Like fishes' eyes, alive or dead -- But surfaces of vacancy -- Blank disks that never seem to see, But glint and glow and glare instead. III The ragged shawl I wear is wet With driving, dripping rains, and yet It seems a royal raiment, where, Through twisted torrents of my hair, I see rare gems that gleam and shine Like jewels in a stream of wine; The gaping shoes that clothe my feet Are golden sandals, and the shrine Where courtiers grovel and repeat Vain prayers, and where, in joy thereat, A fair Prince doffs his plumed hat, And kneels, and names me all things sweet. IV Sometimes the sun shines, and the lull Of winter noon is like a tune The stars might twinkle to the moon If night were white and beautiful -- For when the clangor of the town And strife of traffic softens down, The wakeful hunger that I nurse, In listening, forgets to curse, Until -- ah, joy! with drooping head I drowse, and dream that I am dead And buried safe beyond their eyes Who either pity or despise. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOOD FRIDAY, 1613. RIDING WESTWARD by JOHN DONNE UNGRATEFULNESS by GEORGE HERBERT WINTER IN IRELAND by CHARLES BEWLEY TWENTY DAYS by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT BLANDID'S SONG, FR. THE CRIER BY NIGHT by GORDON BOTTOMLEY THE OPEN DOOR by NETTIE STEPHENSON BOWEN |