Poetry Archives

Good editor Dana—God bless him, we say—
  Will soon be afloat on the main,
    Will be steaming away
    Through the mist and the spray
  To the sensuous climate of Spain.

Strange sights shall he see in that beautiful land
  Which is famed for its soap and its Moor,
    For, as we understand,
    The scenery is grand
  Though the system of railways is poor.

For moonlight of silver and sunlight of gold
  Glint the orchards of lemons and mangoes,
    And the ladies, we’re told,
    Are a joy to behold
  As they twine in their lissome fandangoes.

What though our friend Dana shall twang a guitar
  And murmur a passionate strain;
    Oh, fairer by far
    Than those ravishments are
  The castles abounding in Spain.

These castles are built as the builder may list—
  They are sometimes of marble or stone,
    But they mostly consist
    Of east wind and mist
  With an ivy of froth overgrown.

A beautiful castle our Dana shall raise
  On a futile foundation of hope,
    And its glories shall blaze
    In the somnolent haze
  Of the mythical lake del y Soap.

The fragrance of sunflowers shall swoon on the air
  And the visions of Dreamland obtain,
    And the song of “World’s Fair”
    Shall be heard everywhere
  Through that beautiful castle in Spain.