“Millionaire broker and clubman,” “gee!”

“In reply to yours,” “can such things be?”

“Sounded the keynote” or “trumpet call,”—

[Pg 87] L’Envoi

[Pg 87]

L’Envoi

  Under the spreading chestnut tree Stands the Cannery, all too small. The Canner a briny man is he, And into the brine go one and all.

[Pg 88]

[Pg 88]

PANDEAN PIPEDREAMS

(Induced by smoking “Pagan Pickings.”)

(Induced by smoking “Pagan Pickings.”)

I

 This is something that I heard, As the fluting of a bird, On a certain drowsy day, When my pipe was under way. I was weary of the town, And the going up and down; Sick of streets and sick of noise,— And I pined for Pagan joys.

  Daphne, here it is July! Just the month, my love, to fly To a sylvan solitude In the green and ancient wood. We will trip it as we go On the neo-Pagan toe, Sunny days and starry nights,  Savoring the wild delights Of a turbulent desire That may set the wood on fire.

  We will play at hunt-the-fawn, In the neo-Dorian dawn. You will scamper through the brake, And I’ll follow in your wake—

[Pg 89]  As the young Apollo ran In the piping days of Pan. You’ll escape me, without doubt, For I’m just a trifle stout; But, when I have lagged behind, Waiting for my second wynde, From some pretty hiding-place Will emerge your laughing face; I shall glimpse your eyes of blue, Hear your merry “Peek-a-boo!”

[Pg 89]

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