John Hay

(8 October 1838 – 1 July 1905 / Salem, Indiana)


Poem by John Hay

I love a woman tenderly,
But cannot know if she loves me.
I press her hand, her lips I kiss,
But still love's full assurance miss.
Our waking life forever seems
Cleft by a veil of doubt and dreams.

But love and night and sleep combine
In dreams to make her wholly mine.
A sure love lights her eyes' deep blue,
Her hands and lips are warm and true.
Always the fact unreal seems,
And truth I find alone in dreams.

Comments about Dreams by John Hay

  • Don KubickiDon Kubicki (9/29/2019 2:45:00 PM)

    It may well be that dreams reveal more truth than all the words of others.(Report)Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Read all 1 comments »
Dreams Score Card

User Rating:
3,0 / 5 (52 votes)1

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: kiss, woman, truth, sleep, alone, night, love, life, dream, women

Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 4, 2003