Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

The first night that I slept with you
And slept, I dreamt (these lines are true):
Now newly married we had moved
Into an unkempt house we loved—
The rooms were large, the floors of stone,
The garden gently overgrown
With sunflowers, phlox, and mignonette—
All as we would have wished and yet
There was a shabby something there
Tainting the mild and windless air.
Where did it lurk? Alarmed we saw
The walls about us held the flaw—
They were of plaster, like gray chalk,
Porous and dead: it seemed our talk,
Our glances, even love, would die
With such indifference standing by.
Then, scarcely thinking what I did,
I chipped the plaster and it slid
In easy pieces to the floor;
It crumbled cleanly, more and more
Fell unresistingly away—
And there, beneath that deadening gray,
A fresco stood revealed: sky-blue
Predominated, for the view
Was an ebullient country scene,
The crowning of some pageant queen
Whose dress shone blue, and over all
The summer sky filled half the wall.
And so it was in every room,
The plaster’s undistinguished gloom
Gave way to dances, festivals,
Processions, muted pastorals—
And everywhere that spacious blue:
I woke, and lying next to you
Knew all that I had dreamt was true.