From the Newark Evening Star, October 31, 1914.
“I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls!”
He sang the old refrain,
The man on whom the public calls
To toil with might and main.
He stepped into his palace grand,
And then he heard a shout,
In accents of succinct command,
The warning, “This way out!”
The statesman or the warrior bold
Strives on from year to year,
Until before his eyes unfold
The scenes of pomp and cheer.
And when he seeks the sweet repose
He earned, beyond a doubt,
Fate all his dreaming overthrows,
And hollers, “This way out!”