Classic Poem

Fair lady, no one have I ever known
Nearer my ideal lady than art thou —
Well-born, high-bred, sweet woman and true wife
Deign to accept, therefore, these words of praise —
Not flattery but the simple truth — likewise,
As token slight, this verse which seeks to sing
The mimic court of which thou wast the queen,
Deign to accept this praise, these rhymes from one
Who, wandering o'er the ocean's vast expanse,
Remembers oft thy gracious womanhood.

1

Over the great Pacific's breast,
The helmsman steering south-south-west,
Bound for those bright Samoan Isles,
Where fervid summer ever smiles,
Now driven by the cruel gale,
Now born by gentler winds, we sail.

2

But I, like school-boy disinclined
To duty, ever look behind;
Or like old Adam, just bereft
Of Eden, mourn the joys I've left.

3

O happy isle! Far out at sea,
Oft, in my dreams, I visit thee!
I see the California hills,
The breath of morn my spirit fills,
While, round about my sun-lit room,
Behold! a million roses bloom.
Once more I drink, O tonic rare!
The magic California air;
I bask in sunshine — sunshine known
To this auriferous land alone;
And, like to those of Arcady,
The happy days and months glide by.

4

Is nature all? Ah no, kind friends,
She but a charm to friendship lends;
She but reflects, methinks, the gold
Of friendship in her sky and wold.
Ye comrades of the jovial heart,
From you, indeed, 'twas hard to part!
Ye dames and damsels fair, to you
Could heart of man be aught but true?
O would that, in idyllic verse,
Fitly I could our joys rehearse!
The picnic blithe, the dinner fair
With flowers and plate and porcelain rare,
The game of whist when nights were long, —
The supper and the jocund song,
The moonlight walk, the rapturous dance,
The golden wine of sunny France,
The gay cotillon's rhythmic flight,
Its men and maids with favors dight,
Its figures — each a new delight,
Its infinite variety.
Prime favorite of Terpsichore!
Queen in the rose-garden of dances,
Whose beauty every heart entrances!
The masquerade, the witty play,
The sparkling operetta gay,
Perchance some wild Vallejo night,
With straw-ride by the full-moon's light.
Some merry little Gallic court
We seemed, in far Pacific port!

5

O happy time! O golden year!
Fate brings me few like thee, I fear.
My heart no words but these can pen —
Would I could live thee o'er again!

6

Farewell — farewell! The Past is done!
I wake beneath the tropics' sun.
I see the lonely sea-bird wheel,
Once more the ship's long roll I feel,
As, borne upon the wings benign
Of the North-East Trades, we near the Line.