Fifty years Other Poems | Page 7

in the tropics is only a joke,?So we pass it in dreams, and we pass it in smoke,?Smoke--smoke--smoke.
Tropical constitutions?Call for occasional revolutions;?But after that's through,?Why there's nothing to do?But smoke--smoke;
For life in the tropics is only a joke,?So we pass it in dreams, and we pass it in smoke,?Smoke--smoke--smoke.
III
Teestay
Of tropic sensations, the worst?Is, sin duda, the tropical thirst.
When it starts in your throat and constantly grows,?Till you feel that it reaches down to your toes,?When your mouth tastes like fur?And your tongue turns to dust,?There's but one thing to do,?And do it you must,?Drink teestay.
Teestay, a drink with a history,?A delicious, delectable mystery,?"_Cinco centavos el vaso, se?or_,"?If you take one, you will surely want more.
Teestay, teestay,?The national drink on a feast day;?How it coolingly tickles,?As downward it trickles,?Teestay, teestay.
And you wish, as you take it down at a quaff,?That your neck was constructed à la giraffe.?Teestay, teestay.
IV
The Lottery Girl
"Lottery, lottery,?Take a chance at the lottery??Take a ticket,?Or, better, take two;?Who knows what the future?May hold for you??Lottery, lottery,?Take a chance at the lottery?"
Oh, limpid-eyed girl,?I would take every chance,?If only the prize?Were a love-flashing glance?From your fathomless eyes.
"Lottery, lottery,?Try your luck at the lottery??Consider the size?Of the capital prize,?And take tickets?For the lottery.?Tickets, _se?or_? Tickets, _se?or_??Take a chance at the lottery?"
Oh, crimson-lipped girl,?With the magical smile,?I would count that the gamble?Were well worth the while,?Not a chance would I miss,?If only the prize?Were a honey-bee kiss?Gathered in sips?From those full-ripened lips,?And a love-flashing glance?From your eyes.
V
The Dancing Girl
Do you know what it is to dance??Perhaps, you do know, in a fashion;?But by dancing I mean,?Not what's generally seen,?But dancing of fire and passion,?Of fire and delirious passion.
With a dusky-haired _se?orita_,?Her dark, misty eyes near your own,?And her scarlet-red mouth,?Like a rose of the south,?The reddest that ever was grown,?So close that you catch?Her quick-panting breath?As across your own face it is blown,?With a sigh, and a moan.
Ah! that is dancing,?As here by the Carib it's known.
Now, whirling and twirling?Like furies we go;?Now, soft and caressing?And sinuously slow;?With an undulating motion,?Like waves on a breeze-kissed ocean:--?And the scarlet-red mouth?Is nearer your own,?And the dark, misty eyes?Still softer have grown.
Ah! that is dancing, that is loving,?As here by the Carib they're known.
VI
Sunset in the Tropics
A silver flash from the sinking sun,?Then a shot of crimson across the sky?That, bursting, lets a thousand colors fly?And riot among the clouds; they run,?Deepening in purple, flaming in gold,?Changing, and opening fold after fold,?Then fading through all of the tints of the rose into gray, Till, taking quick fright at the coming night,?They rush out down the west,?In hurried quest?Of the fleeing day.
Now above where the tardiest color flares a moment yet, One point of light, now two, now three are set?To form the starry stairs,--?And, in her fire-fly crown,?Queen Night, on velvet slippered feet, comes softly down.
AND THE GREATEST OF THESE IS WAR
Around the council-board of Hell, with Satan at their head, The Three Great Scourges of humanity sat.?Gaunt Famine, with hollow cheek and voice, arose and spoke,-- "O, Prince, I have stalked the earth,?And my victims by ten thousands I have slain,?I have smitten old and young.?Mouths of the helpless old moaning for bread, I have filled with dust; And I have laughed to see a crying babe tug at the shriveling breast Of its mother, dead and cold.?I have heard the cries and prayers of men go up to a tearless sky, And fall back upon an earth of ashes;?But, heedless, I have gone on with my work.?'Tis thus, O, Prince, that I have scourged mankind."
And Satan nodded his head.
Pale Pestilence, with stenchful breath, then spoke and said,-- "Great Prince, my brother, Famine, attacks the poor.?He is most terrible against the helpless and the old.?But I have made a charnel-house of the mightiest cities of men. When I strike, neither their stores of gold or of grain avail. With a breath I lay low their strongest, and wither up their fairest. I come upon them without warning, lancing invisible death. From me they flee with eyes and mouths distended;?I poison the air for which they gasp, and I strike them down fleeing. 'Tis thus, great Prince, that I have scourged mankind."
And Satan nodded his head.
Then the red monster, War, rose up and spoke,--?His blood-shot eyes glared 'round him, and his thundering voice Echoed through the murky vaults of Hell.--?"O, mighty Prince, my brothers, Famine and Pestilence,?Have slain their thousands and ten thousands,--true;?But the greater their victories have been,?The more have they wakened in Man's breast?The God-like attributes of sympathy, of brotherhood and love And made of him a searcher after wisdom.?But I arouse in Man the demon and the brute,?I plant black hatred in his heart and red revenge.?From the summit of fifty thousand years of upward climb I haul him down to