I am bound to furnish my antagonists with arguments, but not with comprehension.

When Bishop Berkeley said "there was no matter." And proved it--'t was no matter what he said.

'Twas blow for blow, disputing inch by inch, For one would not retreat, nor t'other flinch.

And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They have a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being.

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

Her glossy hair was cluster'd o'er a brow Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth; Her eyebrow's shape was like the aerial bow, Her cheek all purple with the beam of youth, Mounting, at times, to a transparent glow, As if her veins ran lightning.