DREAM POETRY.
TO THE EDITOR OF THJ? PItE33. Sir, —Your weekly literary page is, I am sure, much enjoyed by your readers. An article yesterday dealt with a subject upon which I have always been somewhat sceptical, i.e., dream poetry. Last night I dreamt that I was admiring, once more, the statue of Shakespeare, in Sydney. There he stands, surrounded by his wonderful creations: Falstaff, Portia, Hamlet, and Othello. Still sceptical. I was thinking of your article, when I heard a voice say: That brings quick, to the moulder in his mind, Right, left, back, front, points all of radiant beauty. Now, no living poet ever wrote lines such as that, and the dead would probably sooner be dead than admit them. But lam sceptical no longer. I forgot to mention that upon that beautiful monument, that magnificent tribute to the greatest genius of our race, is inscribed the verse: We are such stuff as dreams are made on. This assists in a measure to explain the mystery of my thoughts.—Yours, etc., GEORGE WHITE. July 23, 1933.
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Press, Volume LXIX, Issue 20916, 25 July 1933, Page 16
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177DREAM POETRY. Press, Volume LXIX, Issue 20916, 25 July 1933, Page 16
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