When slumber seals our weary eyes,
The busy fancy wakeful keeps;
The scenes which then before us rise,
Prove something in us never sleeps.
As in another world we seem,
A new creation of our own,
All appears real, though a dream,
And all familiar, though unknown.
Sometimes the mind beholds again
The past day's business in review,
Resumes the pleasure or the pain;
And sometimes all we meet is new.
What schemes we form, what pains we take!
We fight, we run, we fly, we fall;
But all is ended when we wake,
We scarcely then a trace recall.
But though our dreams are often wild,
Like clouds before the driving storm;
Yet some important may be styl'd,
Sent to admonish or inform.
What mighty agents have access,
What friends from heav'n, or foes from hell,
Our minds to comfort or distress,
When we are sleeping, who can tell?
One thing, at least, and 'tis enough,
We learn from this surprising fact;
Our dreams afford sufficient proof,
The soul, without the flesh, can act.
This life, which mortals so esteem,
That many choose it for their all,
They will confess, was but a dream,
When 'waken'd by death's awful call.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (On Dreaming by John Newton )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- All about me Ma!, Damian Murphy
- Broken World, Poet Akinwemimo Idris
- Committee Meetings, Edgar Albert Guest
- Golf Luck, Edgar Albert Guest
- All The Love We Hide, Michael McParland
- The Simple Things, Edgar Albert Guest
- The Bride, Edgar Albert Guest
- Bread And Jam, Edgar Albert Guest
- The Cut-Down Trousers, Edgar Albert Guest
- Lullaby, Edgar Albert Guest