Age of Jahiliyah

A blog of wide and varied interest, including Islam, Muslims, Poetry, Art and much more.

Archive for the day “May 28, 2007”

Dreams by Edgar Allan Poe

Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream!

My spirit not awakening, till the beam

Of an Eternity should bring the morrow.

Yes! tho’ that long dream were of hopeless sorrow,

‘Twere better than the cold reality

Of waking life, to him whose heart must be,

And hath been still, upon the lovely earth,

A chaos of deep passion, from his birth.

But should it be- that dream eternally

Continuing- as dreams have been to me

In my young boyhood- should it thus be given,

‘Twere folly still to hope for higher Heaven.

For I have revell’d, when the sun was bright

I’ the summer sky, in dreams of living light

And loveliness,- have left my very heart

In climes of my imagining, apart

From mine own home, with beings that have been

Of mine own thought- what more could I have seen?

‘Twas once- and only once- and the wild hour

From my remembrance shall not pass- some power

Or spell had bound me- ’twas the chilly wind

Came o’er me in the night, and left behind

Its image on my spirit- or the moon

Shone on my slumbers in her lofty noon

Too coldly- or the stars- howe’er it was

That dream was as that night-wind- let it pass.

I have been happy, tho’ in a dream.

I have been happy- and I love the theme:

Dreams! in their vivid coloring of life,

As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife

Of semblance with reality, which brings

To the delirious eye, more lovely things

Of Paradise and Love- and all our own!

Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known.

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An Obstacle by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

I was climbing up a mountain-path

With many things to do,

Important business of my own,

And other people’s too,

When I ran against a Prejudice

That quite cut off my view.

So I spoke to him politely,

For he was huge and high,

And begged that he would move a bit

And let me travel by.

He smiled, but as for moving! –

He didn’t even try.

And then I begged him on my knees;

I might be kneeling still

If so I hoped to move that mass

Of obdurate ill-will –

As well invite the monument

To vacate Bunker Hill!!

So I sat before him helpless,

In an ecstasy of woe –

The mountain mists were rising fast,

The sun was sinking slow –

When a sudden inspiration came,

As sudden winds do blow.

I took my hat, I took my stick,

My load I settled fair,

I approached that awful incubus

With an absent-minded air –

And I walked directly through him,

As if he wasn’t there

I approached that awful incubus

With an absent-minded air–

And I walked directly through him,

As if he wasn’t there!

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