"The tangible and real,
Which our lives are based,
Was yesterday's ideal,
A rosy picture traced,
By some quaint visionary,
Impractical, "half-cracked"
Painting his fancies eerie;
And now it's solid fact.
Whatever we hold stable,
Dependable and sane,
Was once a hopeful fable,
Of "castles built in Spain",
Before the fact, the fancy,
Before the deed, the dream
That builds by necromancy
The hard, material scheme.
So all your towers that shimmer,
Your lamps that light the sky,
Were once a tiny glimmer,
Within some seer's eye.
Time makes our empires scatter;
But we shall build anew,
For only visions matter,
And only Dreams come true."
there doesn't seem to be anything here