Archibald MacLeish (7 May 1892 – 20 April 1982 / Glencoe, Illinois)
The Night Dream
To R. L.
NEITHER her voice, her name,
Eyes, quietness neither,
That moved through the light, that came
Cold stalk in her teeth
Bitten of some blue flower
Knew I before nor saw.
This was a dream. Ah,
This was a dream. There was sun
Laid on the cloths of a table
We drank together. Her mouth
Was a lion's mouth out of jade
Cold with a fable of water.
Faces I could not see
Watched me with gentleness. Grace
Folded my body with wings.
I cannot love you she said.
My head she laid on her breast.
As stillness with ringing of bees
I was filled with a singing of praise.
Knowledge filled me and peace.
We were silent and not ashamed.
Ah we were glad that day.
They asked me but it was one
Dead they meant and not I.
She was beside me she said.
We rode in a desert place.
We were always happy. Her sleeves
Jangled with earrings of gold.
They told me the wind from the south
Was the cold wind to be feared.
We were galloping under the leaves
This was a dream, Ah
This was a dream.
And her mouth
Was not your mouth nor her eyes,
But the rivers were four and I knew
As a secret between us, the way
Hands touch, it was you.
Archibald MacLeish's Other Poems
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- Ars Poetica
- Before March
- Broken Promise
- De Votre Bonheur Il Ne Reste Que Vos Pho...
- Definition Of The Frontiers
- Dr. Sigmund Freud Discovers the Sea Shel...
- Hypocrite Auteur
- Immortal Autumn
- Invocation To The Social Muse
- L'An Trentiesme De Mon Eage
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