letra de john dryden - dreams - ghizela rowe
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dreams are but interludes which fancy makes;
when monarch reason sleeps, this mimic wakes:
compounds a medley of disjointed things
a mob of cobblers, and a court of kings:
light fumes are merry, grosser fumes are sad;
both are the reasonable soul run mad;
and many monstrous forms in sleep we see
that neither were, nor are, nor e’er can be
sometimes forgotten things long cast behind
rush forward in the brain, and come to mind
the nurse’s legends are for truths rеceived
and the man drеams but what the boy believed
sometimes we but rehe-rs- a former play
the night restores our actions done by day;
as hounds in sleep will open for their prey
in short, the farce of dreams is of a piece
chimeras all; and more absurd, or less
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