Under
Dreamed c.1917 by John Collings Squire
In this house, she said, in this high second storey,
In this room where we sit, above the midnight street, There runs a rivulet, narrow but very rapid, Under the still floor and your unconscious feet. The lamp on the table made a cone of light
"But how," I asked, "does the water climb so high?"
And I rose and rolled the Turkey carpet back
Bordered with little frosted heaps of ice,
I took the tackle, a stiff black rubber worm,
And I stood there, gazing down at a stream in spate,
Three scattered little trout, as black as tadpoles,
For I heard the thin gnat-like voices of the trout
And the room swam, the calm woman and the yellow lamp,
And I fainted away, utterly miserable.
|
EDITOR'S NOTE
Peeling up the rug and floorboards, the cold and wet channel, and the creatures too young to die... for readers in 1917 these images evoke the millions then dying in the trenches of World War I. Squire didn't need to spell it out.
--Chris Wayan
SOURCE: in The Dream World p.295, author R.L. Megroz writes "Sir John Squire told me that his vivid poem Under was... a recorded dream."
World Dream Bank homepage - Art gallery - New stuff - Introductory sampler, best dreams, best art - On dreamwork - Books
Indexes: Subject - Author - Date - Names - Places - Art media/styles
Titles: A - B - C - D - E - F - G - H - IJ - KL - M - NO - PQ - R - Sa-Sh - Si-Sz - T - UV - WXYZ
Email: wdreamb@yahoo.com - Catalog of art, books, CDs - Behind the Curtain: FAQs, bio, site map - Kindred sites