The Garden of Dreams

Madison Cawein from Kentucky, displays a wider range of his poetic dreams, from the bright to the dark.

By : Madison Cawein (1865 - 1914)

01 - To My Brothers 02 - A Fallen Beech 03 - The Haunted Woodland 04 - Discovery 05 - Comradery 06 - Occult 07 - Wood-Words 08 - The Wind at Night 09 - Airy Tongues 10 - The Hills 11 - Imperfection 12 - Arcanna 13 - Spring 14 - Response 15 - Fulfillment 16 - Transformation 17 - Omens 18 - Abandoned 19 - The Creek Road 20 - The Covered Bridge 21 - The Hillside Grave 22 - Simulacra 23 - Before the End 24 - Winter 25 - Hoar Frost 26 - The Winter Moon 27 - In Summer 28 - Rain and Wind 29 - Under Arcturus 30 - October 31 - Bare Boughs 32 - A Threnody 33 - Snow 34 - Vagabonds 35 - An Old Song 36 - A Rose o' the Hills 37 - Dirge 38 - Rest 39 - Clairvoyance 40 - Indifference 41 - Pictured 42 - Serenade 43 - Kinship 44 - She is So Much 45 - Her Eyes 46 - Messengers 47 - At Twenty-One 48 - Baby Mary 49 - A Motive in Gold and Gray 50 - A Reed Shaken with the Wind 51 - A Flower of the Fields 52 - The White Vigil 53 - Too Late 54 - Intimations 55 - Two 56 - Tones 57 - Unfulfilled 58 - Home 59 - Ashly Mere 60 - Before the Tomb 61 - Revisited 62 - At Vespers 63 - The Creek 64 - Answered 65 - Woman's Portion 66 - Finale 67 - The Cross 68 - The Forest of Dreams 69 - Lynchers 70 - Ku Klux 71 - Rembrandts 72 - The Lady of The Hills 73 - Revealment 74 - Heart's Encouragement 75 - Nightfall 76 - Pause 77 - Above the Vales 78 - A Sunset Fancy 79 - The Fen-Fire 80 - To One Reading the Morte D'Arthure 81 - Strollers 82 - Haunted 83 - Praerita 84 - The Swashbuckler 85 - The Witch 86 - The Somnambulist 87 - Opium 88 - Music and Sleep 89 - Ambition 90 - Despondency 91 - Despair 92 - Sin 93 - Insomnia 94 - Encouragement 95 - Quatrains 96 - A Last Word

Not while I live may I forget

That garden which my spirit trod!

Where dreams were flowers, wild and wet,

And beautiful as God.

Not while I breathe, awake adream,

Shall live again for me those hours,

When, in its mystery and gleam,

I met her 'mid the flowers.

Eyes, talismanic heliotrope,

Beneath mesmeric lashes, where

The sorceries of love and hope

Had made a shining lair.

And daydawn brows, whereover hung

The twilight of dark locks; and lips,

Whose beauty spoke the rose's tongue

Of fragrance-voweled drips.

I will not tell of cheeks and chin,

That held me as sweet language holds;

Nor of the eloquence within

Her bosom's moony molds.

Nor of her large limbs' languorous

Wind-grace, that glanced like starlight through

Her ardent robe's diaphanous

Web of the mist and dew.

There is no star so pure and high

As was her look; no fragrance such

At her soft presence; and no sigh

Of music like her touch.

Not while I live may I forget

That garden of dim dreams! where I

And Song within the spirit met,

Sweet Song, who passed me by.