Spin me a yarn of the bounding sea, Of stately ships that pass From Singapore to Brittany, From Guam to Gloucester, Mass. Tell me a tale of a wave-lashed coast Where the fog-horn's drone is heard -- And I'll send your yarn to the @3Sat. Eve. Post@1 For twenty-five cents a word. Sing me a song of the Great Outdoors, Of forest and moor and glen, Of beetling crags where the eagle soars -- Where men, as they say, are men. Strum me a lyric of morning dews In a verdant woodland shrine -- And I'll send it out through the Central News At three and a half a line. Weave me a story of desert sands With glimmering stars above, Of passionate Sheiks and Arab bands, And typical, tropical love. Paint me a picture of twilight tints On drifting dunes -- and then I'll peddle your plot to Thomas Ince For fifteen thousand yen. So it's ho! for a life in the open air Where the sky is always blue, Where souls are purged of a dark despair, Where hearts beat strong and true. You can talk of the champagne baths, and such, In the city's gilded fount -- But a man grows BIGGER 'neath Nature's touch, And so does his bank account. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN I RISE UP by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THOUGHTS ON THE COMMANDMENTS by GEORGE AUGUSTUS BAKER JR. |