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Poem by John Dryden


Dreams


Dreams are but interludes which Fancy makes;
When monarch Reason sleeps, this mimic wakes:
Compounds a medley of disjointed things,
A mob of cobblers, and a court of kings:
Light fumes are merry, grosser fumes are sad;
Both are the reasonable soul run mad;
And many monstrous forms in sleep we see,
That neither were, nor are, nor e'er can be.
Sometimes forgotten things long cast behind
Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind.
The nurse's legends are for truths received,
And the man dreams but what the boy believed.
Sometimes we but rehearse a former play,
The night restores our actions done by day;
As hounds in sleep will open for their prey.
In short, the farce of dreams is of a piece,
Chimeras all; and more absurd, or less. 



John Dryden


John Dryden's other poems:
  1. Upon Young Mr. Rogers, of Gloucestershire
  2. On Mrs. Margaret Paston, of Barningham, in Norfolk
  3. Epilogue to Henry II
  4. Epitaph on a Nephew in Catworth Church, Huntingdonshire
  5. The Beautiful Lady of the May


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Robert Herrick Dreams ("Here we are all, by day; by night we're hurl'd")
  • Anne Brontë Dreams ("While on my lonely couch I lie")
  • John Newman Dreams ("OH! miserable power")
  • Caroline Norton Dreams ("SURELY I heard a voice-surely my name")
  • Robert Service Dreams ("I had a dream, a dream of dread")
  • Edgar Poe Dreams ("Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream!")
  • Amy Lowell Dreams ("I do not care to talk to you although")
  • Henry Timrod Dreams ("Who first said "false as dreams?" Not one who saw")

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