Classic Poem

I WONDER if, sunning in Eden's vales,
Fielding and Smollett still hold sway,
And Gaffer Chaucer sits swapping tales
With Old Sam Clemens and Rabelais?
And there I can hear, mid the merry play
Of wit and laughter's jovial din,
One or the other guffaw and say:
" A traveling salesman came to an inn — — "

Over the scented Elysian swales
Pan strides piping to nymph and fay;
But down in the depths of the woodland dales
A whisper goes round where the men-folk stay.
There's mischief abroad, or my wit's astray —
Shepherds achuckle and fauns agrin —
Theocritus starts in the same old way:
" A traveling salesman came to an inn — — "

This is the password of brother males,
Linking together the grave and gay,
Story that never grows old nor stales,
Jest that is stranger to Time's decay.
Life-scarred veterans, old and gray,
Skinny of arm and lank of shin,
Cackle at thoughts of the old brave fray —
" A traveling salesman came to an inn — — "

L'ENVOI

Prince, you are fashioned of mortal clay,
Tarry a little and quaff a skin,
I heard a good one the other day —

" A traveling salesman came to an inn — — "