Dreams, my dear Lord? Well, there are dreams and dreams,
Are those of BURNS much worse than those of WEMYSS?
Are WESTMINSTER's vain visions, though mature
The dreamer, less absurd or more obscure
Than those of some "young man" who dares to hope
That he with crowded London's ills can cope?
"Behold this dreamer cometh!" So of old
The sons of JACOB, envious, scornful, cold,
And fearful for their privilege of birth
And of possession, in derisive mirth,