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When to soft Sleep we give ourselves away, And in a dream as in a fairy bark Drift on and on through the enchanted dark To purple daybreak--little thought we pay To that sweet bitter world we know by day.

Sweet sleep be with us, one and all! And if upon its stillness fall The visions of a busy brain, We'll have our pleasure o'er again, To warm the heart, to charm the sight, Gay dreams to all! good night, good night.

If there were dreams to sell, What would you buy? Some cost a passing bell; Some a light sigh, That shakes from Life's fresh crown Only a rose-leaf down. If there were dreams to sell, Merry and sad to tell, And the crier rung the bell, What would you buy?

And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions: And also upon the servants and upon the handmaids in those days will I pour out my spirit.

As a dream when one awaketh; so, O Lord, when thou awakest, thou shalt despise their image.

"Come to me, darling; I'm lonely without thee; Daytime and nighttime I'm dreaming about thee."

Oft morning dreams presage approaching fate, For morning dreams, as poets tell, are true.

I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls, With vassals and serfs at my side, And of all who assembled within those walls, That I was the hope and the pride.

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.

And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They have a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being.

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

All things one has forgotten scream for help in dreams.

The fisher droppeth his net in the stream, And a hundred streams are the same as one; And the maiden dreameth her love-lit dream; And what is it all, when all is done? The net of the fisher the burden breaks, And always the dreaming the dreamer wakes.

Again let us dream where the land lies sunny And live, like the bees, on our hearts' old honey, Away from the world that slaves for money-- Come, journey the way with me.

Like the dreams, Children of night, of indigestion bred.

My eyes make pictures, when they are shut.

And so, his senses gradually wrapt In a half sleep, he dreams of better worlds, And dreaming hears thee still, O singing lark; That singest like an angel in the clouds.

Dream after dream ensues; And still they dream that they shall still succeed; And still are disappointed.

Dream the impossible dream.

Dreams are but interludes, which fancy makes; When monarch reason sleeps, this mimic wakes.