They saw a Dream of Loveliness descending from the train

The brave deserve the lovely—every woman may be won.

Hans Breitmann gife a barty— Where ish dat barty now?

If all the world must see the world As the world the world hath seen, Then it were better for the world That the world had never been.

Bubble, bubble, flows the stream Like an old tune through a dream.

The little bee returns with evening's gloom, To join her comrades in the braided hive, Where, housed beside their mighty honey-comb, They dream their polity shall long survive.

Old scenes to visit, and old dreams to dream, Shall not to us a task of labour seem.