III.
How sweet it were, dodging the urban stream,
With half-shut eyes ever to seem
Falling asleep in a half dream!
To dream and dream that yonder glittering light
No more shall top the tall Clock Tower's height;
To hear no more the party speech;
Eating the Lotos day by day,
To watch the crisping ripples on the beach;
(No, no, not HICKS! Thank heaven, he's far away!)
To lend one's mind and fancy wholly
Unto the influence of the calmly jolly;
Forgetful, whilst the salt breeze round one rustles;
Of all the clamorous Congresses of Brussels,
Of all the spouting M.P.'s party tussles,
Of all the noisy votaries of CARL MARX;
Of all save slumber and Unmitigated Larks!