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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A DREAM OF THE FUTURE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: It was not in a curtained bed
Last Line: Back to the world I took.
Alternate Author Name(s): Fletcher, Maria Jane Jewsbury


It was not in a curtained bed,
When winter storms were howling dread,
This pleasant dream I knew; --
But in the golden month of June,
Beneath the bright and placid moon,
In slumber soft as dew

Alone, in a green and woody dell,
Where the lovely light of the moonbeams fell,
With soft sheen on the grass;
Still, except when a wandering breeze
Stirring the boughs of the beechen trees,
Made shadows come and pass.

Silent -- but for the midnight bird
That makes the spot where'er 't is heard
With spell and sorcery fraught;
Filling the mind with imaged things
Of dreams, and melodies, and wings,
The faery-land of thought.

The flowers had folded up their hues,
But their odours mixed with air and dews
Made it a bliss to breathe;
How could I choose but dream that night,
With a bower above of bloom and light,
A mossy couch beneath?

I dreamt -- and of this world of woe,
This very world of gloom and show,
Where love and beauty cease;
This world wherein all fair is frail,
And but wrong and sorrow never fail,
Changed to a world of peace.

And yet remained it as of old,
Peopled by men of human mould,
To human feelings wed;
Yet, was their traffic in the town,
Yet, wore the king his glittering crown,
And peasants earned their bread.

And day and night were then as now,
And the stars on heaven's mighty brow,
Twinkled their sleepless eyes;
Like watchers sent by the absent sun,
To look on all things said and done,
'Till he again arise.

Spring with its promise went and came,
And Summer with its breath of flame,
Flushing the earth with flowers;
And Autumn like a sorcerer bold,
Transmuting by his touch to gold,
The fruitage of the bowers.

Earth still but knew an earthly lot;
Yet't was a changed and charmed spot,
Where'er the free foot trod;
For now no longer crime and sin,
Like cratered fires its breast within,
Flamed forth against its God.

The curse that chained its strength was gone,
And pleasantly in order shone
The seasons into life,
With only Winter plucked away,
And heat and cold in tempered sway,
Nature no more at strife.

The pole had Eden-wealth of flowers,
The tropic -- noons of breezy hours,
The seamen feared no storm;
The traveller far from haunts of men,
Slept dreadless near the lion's den;
Nor did the serpent's form

With its splendid coat of many dyes,
Bid hate and fear alternate rise,
For in the peace prepared, --
The holy peace that upward ran,
From man to God, from beast to man,
Even the serpent shared.

No clarion stirred the quiet air,
No banner with its meteor-glare
The playful breezes saw;
Unknown the warrior's battle-blade,
And judge in gloomy pomp arrayed,
For love alone was law.

There might be tears on childhood's cheek,
But few, and passionless, and meek,
For strife of soul was dead;
And every smile with love was fraught,
And glance of eye, spoke glance of thought,
Far off deceit and dread.

Shrined in the bosom of the seas
Like gardens of Hesperides,
Lay each beloved land,
Inhabited by peaceful men,
Each happy in his calling then,
In city, vale, or strand.

For poverty and greatness knew
Their brotherhood -- and service true
Each from the other won;
The slave looked on his broken chain,
And with a spirit freed from pain,
Smiled upward on the sun.

It was a holy, holy time!
The soul like nature reached its prime,
And grew an angel-thing;
A paradise of blissful thought --
A fountain never-fearing drought,
A palace -- God its King.

It was a holy time; no sight
But wore an aspect of delight,
Peace was in every sound;
Peace in the song for the blissful wed,
Peace in the chaunt for the tranquil dead,
The buried and the crowned.

And ever rose on the swelling breeze,
From hamlets poor and palaces,
Cities and lonely ways,
Pealing through all earth's pulses strong,
Like the roar of ocean turned to song,
A hymn of lofty praise.

And Death, with light and loving hand,
Marshalled with smiles his radiant band
Into a higher sphere,
Even as a shepherd kind and old
Calleth at night his flock to fold,
With strains of music clear.

Thus dreamt I through the live-long night,
Till the freshened breeze of morning bright,
Sleep from my eyelids shook;
And then with thoughts where joy held sway,
And longings bright -- my musing way
Back to the world I took.





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