Vente aux enchères ♣♣♣ Il y a un rêve ....

 

On the Sale By Auction of Keats’ Love Letters

 

Oscar Wilde

These are the letters which Endymion wrote
     To one he loved in secret, and apart.
     And now the brawlers of the auction mart
Bargain and bid for each poor blotted note,
Ay! for each separate pulse of passion quote
     The merchant’s price. I think they love not art
     Who break the crystal of a poet’s heart
That small and sickly eyes may glare and gloat.

 

Is it not said that many years ago,
     In a far Eastern town, some soldiers ran
     With torches through the midnight, and began
To wrangel for mean raiment, and to throw
     Dice for the garments of a wretched man,
Not knowing the God’s wonder, or His woe

 

 

Dreams

 

Paul Laurence Dunbar

Dream on, for dreams are sweet:
      Do not awaken!
Dream on, and at thy feet
      Pomegranates shall be shaken.

 

Who likeneth the youth
      of life to morning?
’Tis like the night in truth,
      Rose-coloured dreams adorning.

 

The wind is soft above,
      The shadows umber.
(There is a dream called Love.)
      Take thou the fullest slumber!

 

In Lethe’s soothing stream,
      Thy thirst thou slakest.
Sleep, sleep; ’tis sweet to dream.
      Oh, weep then thou awakest!