Bad Dreams: III
THIS
was
my
dream:
I
saw
a
Forest
Old
as
the
earth,
no
track
nor
trace
Of
unmade
man.
Thou,
Soul,
explorest-
Though
in
a
trembling
rapture-
space
Immeasurable!
Shrubs,
turned
trees,
Trees
that
touch
heaven,
support
its
frieze
Studded
with
sun
and
moon
and
star:
While-
oh,
the
enormous
growths
that
bar
Mine
eye
from
penetrating
past
Their
tangled
twine
where
lurks-
nay,
lives
Royally
lone,
some
brute-type
cast
I'
the
rough,
time
cancels,
man
forgives.
On,
Soul!
I
saw
a
lucid
City
Of
architectural
device
Every
way
perfect.
Pause
for
pity,
Lightning!
nor
leave
a
cicatrice
On
those
bright
marbles,
dome
and
spire,
Structures
palatial,-
streets
which
mire
Dares
not
defile,
paved
all
too
fine
For
human
footstep's
smirch,
not
thine-
Proud
solitary
traverser,
My
Soul,
of
silent
lengths
of
way-
With
what
ecstatic
dread,
aver,
Lest
life
start
sanctioned
by
the
stay!
Ah,
but
the
last
sight
was
the
hideous!
A
City,
yes,-
a
Forest,
true,-
But
each
devouring
each.
Perfidious
Snake-plants
had
strangled
what
I
knew
Was
a
pavilion
once:
each
oak
Held
on
his
horns
some
spoil
he
broke
By
surreptitiously
beneath
Upthrusting:
pavements,
as
with
teeth,
Griped
huge
weed
widening
crack
and
split
In
squares
and
circles
stone-work
erst.
Oh,
Nature-
good!
Oh,
Art-
no
whit
Less
worthy!
Both
in
one-
accurst!
Robert Browning
Robert Browning (born May 7, 1812, London—died Dec. 12, 1889, Venice) major English poet of the Victorian age, noted for his mastery of dramatic monologue and psychological portraiture. His most noted work was The Ring and the Book (1868–69), the story of a Roman murder trial in 12 books. Through all the vicissitudes of critical reputation, however, Browning’s major contribution to the canon of children’s literature, “The Pied Piper of Hamelin,” has retained its popular audience. At the time of his death in 1889, he was one of the most popular poets in England.