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The great journalist in spain

by
 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.

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