56
THE SEVEN SEAS
Honour is lost, and none may tell
Who paid good blows. Romance, farewell!'
'Farewell, Romance!' the Traders cried;
'Our keels ha' lain with every sea;
The dull-returning wind and tide
Heave up the wharf where we would be;
The known and noted breezes swell
Our trudging sail. Romance, farewell!'
'Good-bye, Romance!' the Skipper said;
'He vanished with the coal we burn;
Our dial marks full steam ahead,
Our speed is timed to half a turn.
Sure as the ferried barge we ply
'Twixt port and port. Romance, good-bye!'
'Romance!' the season-tickets mourn,
'He never ran to catch his train,
But passed with coach and guard and horn—
And left the local—late again!'
Confound Romance! . . . And all unseen
Romance brought up the nine-fifteen.
