Could I pour out the nectar the gods only can, I would fill up my glass to the brim And drink the success of the Traveling Man, And the house represented by him; And could I but tincture the glorious draught With his smiles, as I drank to him then, And the jokes he has told and the laughs he has laughed, I would fill up the goblet again-- And drink to the sweetheart who gave him good-by With a tenderness thrilling him this Very hour, as he thinks of the tear in her eye That salted the sweet of her kiss; To her truest of hearts and her fairest of hands I would drink, with all serious prayers, Since the heart she must trust is a Traveling Man's, And as warm as the ulster he wears. {129} [Illustration: Who have met him with smiles and with cheer] {131} II I would drink to the wife, with the babe on her knee, Who awaits his returning in vain-- Who breaks his brave letters so tremulously And reads them again and again! And I'd drink to the feeble old mother who sits At the warm fireside of her son And murmurs and weeps o'er the stocking she knits, As she thinks of the wandering one. I would drink a long life and a health to the friends Who have met him with smiles and with cheer-- To the generous hand that the landlord extends To the wayfarer journeying here: And I pledge, when he turns from this earthly abode And pays the last fare that he can, Mine Host of the Inn at the End of the Road Will welcome the Traveling Man! {132} [Illustration: Dan O'Sullivan--headpiece] DAN O'SULLIVAN Dan O'Sullivan: It's your Lips have kissed "The Blarney," sure!-- To be trillin' praise av me, Dhrippin' swhate wid poethry!-- Not that I'd not have ye sing-- Don't lave off for anything-- Jusht be aisy whilst the fit Av me head shwells up to it! Dade and thrue, I'm not the man, Whilst yer singin', loike ye can, To cry shtop because ye've blesht My songs more than all the resht:-- I'll not be the b'y to ax Any shtar to wane or wax, Or ax any clock that's woun' To run up inshtid av down! {133} Whist yez! Dan O'Sullivan!-- Him that made the Irishman Mixt the birds in wid the dough, And the dew and mistletoe Wid the whusky in the quare Muggs av us--and here we air, Three parts right, and three parts wrong, Shpiked with beauty, wit and song! [Illustration: Dan O'Sullivan--tailpiece] {134} [Illustration: My old friend--headpiece] MY OLD FRIEND You've a manner all so mellow, My old friend, That it cheers and warms a fellow, My old friend, Just to meet and greet you, and Feel the pressure of a hand That one may understand, My old friend. {135} Though dimmed in youthful splendor, My old friend, Your smiles are still as tender, My old friend, And your eyes as true a blue As your childhood ever knew, And your laugh as merry, too, My old friend.