The Great Journalist In Spain

Good editor Dana--God bless him, we say--     Will soon be afloat on the main,     Will be steaming away     Through the mist and the spray     To the sensuous climate of Spain.     Strange sights shall he see in that beautiful land     Which is famed for its soap and its Moor,     For, as we understand,     The scenery is grand     Though the system of railways is poor.     For moonlight of silver and sunlight of gold     Glint the orchards of lemons and mangoes,     And the ladies, we're told,     Are a joy to behold     As they twine in their lissome fandangoes.     What though our friend Dana shall twang a guitar     And murmur a passionate strain;     Oh, fairer by far     Than those ravishments are     The castles abounding in Spain.     These castles are built as the builder may list--     They are sometimes of marble or stone,     But they mostly consist     Of east wind and mist     With an ivy of froth overgrown.     A beautiful castle our Dana shall raise     On a futile foundation of hope,     And its glories shall blaze     In the somnolent haze     Of the mythical lake del y Soap.     The fragrance of sunflowers shall swoon on the air     And the visions of Dreamland obtain,     And the song of "World's Fair"     Shall be heard everywhere     Through that beautiful castle in Spain.