Startled your dream with its southern glow,
Flooding with splendour the sordid place?
That was a garret in Poverty Row!
Many a worthy has here, I ween,
Made brief sojourn or long abode:
Johnson, dining behind the screen;
Goldsmith, vagrant along the road;
Keats, ah, pitiful! poor and ill,
Harassed and hurt, in his short spring day;
Best Sir Walter, with flagging quill