For oh, the sun is shining, Dear, and who could be repining, Dear, And who would be unhappy, Dear, when all the world is young? So I will hum a melody, a mirthful little melody, A joyous little melody that never yet was sung. And you shall hear of Fairyland, of Kings and Queens of Fairyland, Of men and maids of Fairyland, and Love shall be the theme, And straight before your brimming eyes, a golden glint of Paradise Shall steal, My Dear, to still your sighs, and give you back your dream. And you will taste of happiness, a tiny bit of happiness, A wistful bit of happiness, upon a summer’s day; And just a little smile from you, a sunny little smile from you, A trembly little smile from you shall be a poet’s pay! MY SHIP BY EDMUND LEAMY My ship is an old ship and her sails are grey and torn, And in the dim and misty night she seems a thing forlorn; Her battered sides are beetle black, her decks are scarred and old, And heavy rise the musty scents from out her crumbling hold. The young ships in the tide-way with a sneering smile sail by, And fair they flash their white sails against a sun-drenched sky, And fleet they run before the clouds that usher in a blow, But could a storm coerce my ship whene’er she wished to go! My ship is an old ship and her sails are torn and grey, And she’s not white and beautiful, nor fragile such as they, But she has sailed o’er every sea to every land a-gleam, And on her decks make merry now the wraiths of youthful dream! VISIONS BY EDMUND LEAMY _I never watch the sun set a-down the Western skies But that within its wonderness I see my mother’s eyes; I never hear the West wind sob softly in the trees But that there comes her broken call far o’er the distant seas; And never shine the dim stars but that my heart would go Away and back to olden lands and dreams of long ago._ A rover of the wide world, when yet my heart was young The sea came whispering to me in well-beloved tongue, And oh! the promises she held of golden lands a-gleam That clung about my boy-heart and filled mine eyes with dream, And Wanderlust came luring me till ’neath the stars I swore That I would be a wanderer for ever, ever more. A-rover of the wide world, I’ve seen the Northern lights A-flashing countless colours in the knife-cold wintry nights; I’ve watched the Southern Cross ablaze o’er smiling, sunny lands, And seen the lazy sea caress palm-sheltered, silvery sands; Still wild unrest is scouring me, the Wanderlust of yore, And I must be a wanderer for ever, ever more.