Poems

Poems

A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

 

 

 

 

Love and Friendship by Emily Bronte

Love is like the wild rose-briar,
Friendship like the holly-tree
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms
But which will bloom most constantly?

The wild-rose briar is sweet in the spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again
And who will call the wild-briar fair?

Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now
And deck thee with the holly's sheen,
That when December blights thy brow
He may still leave thy garland green.

 

 

Life is fine by Langston Hughes

I went down to the river,
I set down on the bank.
I tried to think but couldn't,
So I jumped in and sank.

I came up once and hollered!
I came up twice and cried!
If that water hadn't a-been so cold
I might've sunk and died.

But it was Cold in that water! It was cold!

I took the elevator
Sixteen floors above the ground.
I thought about my baby
And thought I would jump down.

I stood there and I hollered!
I stood there and I cried!
If it hadn't a-been so high
I might've jumped and died.

But it was High up there! It was high!

So since I'm still here livin',
I guess I will live on.
I could've died for love--
But for livin' I was born

Though you may hear me holler,
And you may see me cry--
I'll be dogged, sweet baby,
If you gonna see me die.

Life is fine! Fine as wine! Life is fine!

 

German Language Poems

 

PFEIFEN DES WINDES BY JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE

Es ragt ins Meer der Runenstein,

Da sitz’ ich mit meinen Träumen.

Es pfeift der Wind, die Möwen schrein,

Die Wellen, die wandern und schäumen.

 

Ich habe geliebt manch schönes Kind

Und manchen guten Gesellen–

Wo sind sie hin? Es pfeift der Wind,

Es schäumen und wandern die Wellen.

 

 

 

UNTERLASSUNG BY JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE

Es ziehen die brausenden Wellen

Wohl nach dem Strand;

Sie schwellen und zerschellen

Wohl auf dem Sand.

 

Sie kommen groß und kräftig

Ohn’ Unterlaß;

Sie werden endlich heftig–

Was hilft uns das?

Author : Creative Studio

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