From Dewy Dreams
From dewy dreams, my soul, arise,
From love's deep slumber and from death,
For lo! the trees are full of sighs
Whose leaves the morn admonisheth.
Eastward the gradual dawn prevails
Where softly-burning fires appear,
Making to tremble all those veils
Of grey and golden gossamer.
While sweetly, gently, secretly,
The flowery bells of morn are stirred
And the wise choirs of faery
Begin (innumerous!) to be heard.
By: James Joyce
(Irish Poets) (Poem of the Day)
"From dewy dreams, my soul, arise" is reprinted from Chamber Music. James Joyce. London: Elkin Mathews, 1907.
Poems on Dreams
I Dream'd In A Dream