We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.
With wonderful deathless ditties
We build up the world's great cities,
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire's glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song's measure
Can trample an empire down.
We, in the ages lying
In the buried past of the earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with our mirth;
And o'erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world's worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.
For each age is a dream that is dying, Or one that is coming to birth.Great exclamations for a gtreat late Poet.Of The DAY
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
For each age is a dream that is dying, Or one that is coming to birth.Most sympathetic words from The Poet Of The DAY! Congratulations to the family of the great late Poet. Enjoyed this poem