Song of the free – By: Swami Vivekananda

The wounded snake its hood unfurls,

The flame stirred up doth blaze,

The desert air resounds the calls

Of heart-struck lion’s rage.

The cloud puts forth it deluge strength

When lightning cleaves its breast,

When the soul is stirred to its in most depth

Great ones unfold their best.

 Let eyes grow dim and heart grow faint,

And friendship fail and love betray,

Let Fate its hundred horrors send,

And clotted darkness block the way.

 All nature wear one angry frown,

To crush you out – still know, my soul,

You are Divine. March on and on,

Nor right nor left but to the goal.

 Nor angel I, nor man, nor brute,

Nor body, mind, nor he nor she,

The books do stop in wonder mute

To tell my nature; I am He.

Before the sun, the moon, the earth,

Before the stars or comets free,

 Before e’en time has had its birth,

 I was, I am, and I will be.

 The beauteous earth, the glorious sun,

The calm sweet moon, the spangled sky,

Causation’s law do make them run;

 They live in bonds, in bonds they die.

 And mind its mantle dreamy net

Cast o’er them all and holds them fast.

 In warp and woof of thought are set,

 Earth, hells, and heavens, or worst or best.

 Know these are but the outer crust –

All space and time, all effect, cause.

I am beyond all sense, all thoughts,

The witness of the universe.

Not two nor many, ’tis but one,

And thus in me all me’s I have;

I cannot hate, I cannot shun

Myself from me, I can but love.

From dreams awake, from bonds be free,

Be not afraid. This mystery,

My shadow, cannot frighten me,

Know once for all that I am He.

–         written in 1895

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How far can a person go to fulfill the dream’s of someone else?

Read Dream’s Sake to find out. Click on the picture for reviews and free preview of the novel

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To Sleep – By: John Keats

O soft embalmer of the still midnight,

     Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,

Our gloom-pleas’d eyes, embower’d from the light,

    Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:

O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close

    In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes,

Or wait the “Amen,” ere thy poppy throws

    Around my bed its lulling charities.

Then save me, or the passed day will shine

Upon my pillow, breeding many woes,–

    Save me from curious Conscience, that still lords

Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;

    Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,

And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.

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How far can a person go to fulfill the dream’s of someone else?

Read Dream’s Sake to find out. Click on the picture for reviews and free preview of the novel

Cloths of Heaven – By: William Butler Yeats

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

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How far can a person go to fulfill the dream’s of someone else?

Read Dream’s Sake to find out. Click on the picture for reviews and free preview of the novel

I Am – By: John Clare

I am – yet what I am, none cares or knows:
My friends forsake me like a memory lost:
I am the self-consumer of my woes —
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes
And yet I am, and live-like vapours tost

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life or joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteem:
Even the dearest that I love the best
Are strange-nay, rather, stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man hath never trod
A place where woman never smiled or wept
there to abide with my creator God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie
The grass below, above, the vaulted sky.

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How far can a person go to fulfill the dream’s of someone else?

Read Dream’s Sake to find out. Click on the picture for reviews and free preview of the novel

Sympathy – By: Paul Laurence Dunbar

I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals—
I know what the caged bird feels!I know why the caged bird beats its wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting—
I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings—

I know why the caged bird sings!

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How far can a person go to fulfill the dream’s of someone else?

Read Dream’s Sake to find out. Click on the picture for reviews and free preview of the novel