The Dream by Louise Bogan
O God, in the dream the terrible horse began
To paw at the air, and make for me with his blows,
Fear kept for thirty-five years poured through his mane,
And retribution equally old, or nearly, breathed through his nose.
Coward complete, I lay and wept on the ground
When some strong creature appeared, and leapt for the rein.
Another woman, as I lay half in a swound
Leapt in the air, and clutched at the leather and chain.
Give him, she said, something of yours as a charm.
Throw him, she said, some poor thing you alone claim.
No, no, I cried, he hates me; he is out for harm,
And whether I yield or not, it is all the same.
But, like a lion in a legend, when I flung the glove
Pulled from my sweating, my cold right hand;
The terrible beast, that no one may understand,
Came to my side, and put down his head in love.
Unlike many of the poems about dreams, this one has a more positive ending. The speaker seems to have arrived at some inner strength which is able to, at last, control the thirty-five years of fear" that she visualizes rushing through the horse's mane, with the horse being the controlling metaphor of the poem. If you will visit this site, you will find other poems about dreams: http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/thematic_poems/dream_poems.html