Within a dream I watched a city rise
  To thrive a thousand years in craft and power,
And mourned to see its wreck through god-like eyes:
  Yet woke to find I’d slept but half an hour.

Time tramples on, the years roll by in ranks
  No less upon the wicked than the blessed,
How is it then that dreams, like armoured tanks,
  Reverse the trick, their centuries compressed?