Deaf American Poetry: An Anthology

I Will Take My Dreams . . .

Felix Kowalewski 117 I Will Take My Dreams . . . I will take my dreams to the top of the highest mountain. I will take my dreams, I will take them all. I will wrap them up in a cloak of silver. I will roll them to the top, like a snowy ball. I will take my dreams to the top of the highest mountain, And then I will stop and rest a while; I will open my cloak and spread them out before me— I will talk to them, I will dip my hands in the shimmering pile. Oh, here is a dream of a beautiful lady, gracious and golden; And here is a dream that is bitterly sweet. Here is a dream, that has never been ended; And here is a dream of forever dancing feet. Here is a dream of dragons and witches and goblins, And here is a dream of fairies and djinns; And here sings a dream of a beautiful music —A music of hautboys and violins. I will dream my dreams on the top of the highest mountain. I will kiss their hands, I will cry “farewell.” I will bind them up once more in my cloak of silver— Each little hand, each silverly pealing bell. I will stand with my dreams on the top of the highest mountain; I will brush from my hands the dust of their tears. I will stride to the edge of the abyss before me— The yawning abyss of dreamless years. I will seize my dreams on the top of the highest mountain; And then, in despair, I will fling them down! I will see them fall, to burst in a thousand fragments —The fairies, the music, the lovely lady’s crown! Felix Kowalewski 118 I will sit me down on the top of the highest mountain. I will stare at the lonely waste of rock and sky. I will lay me down at the edge of the abyss. I will dream no more; and dreamless, I shall die. ...