Many's the night I dream of sandstone -
The Manse, ancestral ; stairs
in A Chapter on Dreams -
But linksland, mostly, and sand;
Rain on a golf-shack roof.
Fortune, sequestered overseas,
Or buried in the female line,
Refreshed, will reassemble,
Form a familiar self; sun-roused,
Unearth the old vertiginous
Idealists to light
A panoramic dreamlife
And the company of Stevensonians.
