Many's the night I dream of sandstone -
The Manse, A Chapter on Dreams -
But linksland, mostly, and sand
And rain on a golf-shack roof.
Fortune, sequestered overseas
Or buried in the female line,
Refreshed, may reassemble,
Form a familiar self -
Conscript
Vertiginous Idealists to light
A panoramic dreamlife,
And the company of Stevensonians.
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