No, no! from the street’s rude bustle,
From trophies of mart and stage,
I would fly to the woods’ low rustle
And the meadow’s kindly page.
Let me dream as of old by the river,
And be loved for the dream alway;
For a dreamer lives forever,
And a toiler dies in a day.
GIVE ME MY DREAMS.
By A. J. Waterhouse.