Poems (Welby)/The Dreamers

by Amelia Welby

THE DREAMERS.

Countless as the stars, whose numbers
 Mock us where their brightness glows,
Are the dreams, that haunt our slumbers
 When we're gathered to repose;
And, as each soft starry peeper
 Bursts forth in its own bright beam,
So it is with every sleeper—
 Each one hath a separate dream.

Mother, on thy couch reclining
 With thy pale cheek wet with tears,
Sleep around thy heart is twining
 Buried hopes of former years;
Dream'st thou of each faded blossom,
 Folded once upon thy breast?
Mourn not, for within his bosom
 They have found a safer rest.

Maiden, whose warm cheek is glowing
 With the spirit of thy dreams,
Each wild bud of fancy blowing
 To thy mind as real seems;
Honeyed words by sweet lips spoken
 Round thee have their witchery cast;
May the charm remain unbroken
 When thy nightly dream is past.

Child of gladness, thou art sinking
 To thy sweet rest soft and deep,
For the thirsty flowers are drinking
 Every tear the bright stars weep;
As the silvery light of even
 Gathers round the parting day,
So do gentle dreams of heaven
 Flit about thee—dream away.

Weary warrior, lately grasping
 In thy hand the flashing blade,
In sweet dreams thou 'rt fondly clasping
 Lovely forms now lowly laid;
Rosy lips thine own are pressing,
 Fairy children round thee play,
But with every transient blessing
 Melts that soothing dream away.

Lonely captive, sleep is flinging
 Round thee many a witching spell;
Low sweet tones are round thee ringing.
 Tones, that lately breathed farewell;
Clanking chains thy limbs encumber—
 Hush! ye wild winds, peaceful be—
Break not yet the captive's slumber—
 Rosy sleep hath set him free!

Mortals, when those dreams are over,
 Praise His name, who round us flings
Visions bright, and bids us hover
 'Neath the shadow of His wings.
Soon that deep sleep will o'ertake us,
 Sleep, that passeth not away,
Till the last trump shall awake us
 To one bright eternal day.