I dream sometimes of fairyland delight:
Faint music, dewey grass, great moonlike
And drifting figures white against the night.
Perhaps I'll write a book on love and beauty,
Or go to sea and drift out with the tide.
I don't know what I want, but I want some-
I'll try a good big beefsteak, chicken-fried!
__May Willams Ward.
From an unknown newspaper