“We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of the dreams.”
The title of this post is the title of a chapter in a book I’m reading. It is a similar sentiment as the quote above. I always thought it was written by Roald Dahl. In the movie Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Gene Wilder who plays Willy Wonka says this to Veruca Salt as sort of a verbal slap — expertly acted. I have always loved this line in the movie. I’ve repeated it several times in conversations (certainly not as a reprimand).
As a creative, I adore this quote as it summarizes our purpose as humans. It’s actually two lines from a poem by William Arthur Edgar O’Shaughnessy, Ode, written in 1874.
I want to post the whole poem in its entirety because it is often presented in pieces or edited for a meme.
The most significant thing to me is how relevant it is to what is going on in our world right now. The bully’s are taking over. History repeats itself. If only we could dream a different dream.
Even though I enjoy reading, I’m not very good at assigning meaning to poetry or literature so I’ll add a link below to a poetry website that has a nice discussion and notes.
Please enjoy the poem:
Ode
We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamer of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.
With wonderful deathless ditties,
We build up the world's great cities,
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire's glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song's measure
Can trample an empire down.
We, in the ages lying
In the buried past of earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with our mirth;
And o'erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world's worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.
A breath of our inspiration
Is the life of each generation;
A wondrous thing of our dreaming
Unearthly, impossible seeming —
The soldier, the king, and the peasant
Are working together in one,
Till our dream shall become their present,
And their work in the world be done.
They had no vision amazing
Of the goodly house they are raising;
They had no divine foreshowing
Of the land to which they are going:
But on one man's soul it hath broken,
A light that doth not depart;
And his look, or a word he hath spoken,
Wrought flame in another man's heart.
And therefore to-day is thrilling
With a past day's late fulfilling;
And the multitudes are enlisted
In the faith that their fathers resisted,
And, scorning the dream of to-morrow,
Are bringing to pass, as they may,
In the world, for its joy or its sorrow,
The dream that was scorned yesterday.
But we, with our dreaming and singing,
Ceaseless and sorrowless we!
The glory about us clinging
Of the glorious futures we see,
Our souls with high music ringing:
O men! it must ever be
That we dwell, in our dreaming and singing,
A little apart from ye.
For we are afar with the dawning
And the suns that are not yet high,
And out of the infinite morning
Intrepid you hear us cry —
How, spite of your human scorning,
Once more God's future draws nigh,
And already goes forth the warning
That ye of the past must die.
Great hail! we cry to the comers
From the dazzling unknown shore;
Bring us hither your sun and your summers;
And renew our world as of yore;
You shall teach us your song's new numbers,
And things that we dreamed not before:
Yea, in spite of a dreamer who slumbers,
And a singer who sings no more.
A wondrous thing of our dreaming,
Unearthly, impossible seeming-
The soldier, the king, and the peasant
Are working together in one,
Till our dream shall become their present,
And their work in the world be done.
And therefore today is thrilling,
With a past day's late fulfilling.
And the multitudes are enlisted
In the faith that their fathers resisted,
And, scorning the dream of tomorrow,
Are bringing to pass, as they may,
In the world, for it's joy or it's sorrow,
The dream that was scorned yesterday.
For we are afar with the dawning
And the suns that are not yet high,
And out of the infinite morning
Intrepid you hear us cry-
How, spite of your human scorning,
Once more God's future draws nigh,
And already goes forth the warning
That ye of the past must die.
Great hail! we cry to the corners
From the dazzling unknown shore;
Bring us hither your sun and your summers,
And renew our world as of yore;
You shall teach us your song's new numbers,
And things that we dreamt not before;
Yea, in spite of a dreamer who slumbers,
And a singer who sings no more.
O’Shaughnessy, Arthur. Music and Moonlight: Poems and Songs. London: Chatto and Windus, 1874.
References
https://allpoetry.com/poem/8497499-Ode-by-William-Arthur-Edgar-O-Shaughnessy
Nineveh – an ancient city located in modern day Iraq.
I’ve used a copyright free image of a NASA space rocket toy for this post as we just wrapped up 10 days of a successful Artemis 2 space mission — talk about humans that dream big! I was glued to the NASA YouTube channel and definitely inspired by the mission and crew and fabulous images of our celestial neighborhood. All we need is love.
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