Acadiensis/Volume 1/Number 1/The Wizard of the World
The Wizard of the World.
(From the Newfoundland Magazine.)
(To R. K.)
Does he not touch our heart-strings, tho', Gay and sad at his whim,Now with the jest of the rifle-pits, Now with a nation's hymn.
With his deep-sea song, and his banjo-song, Does he not rouse us, tho',Telling the world the things we feel And the little things we know.
We hark to the Wizard, as we would hark To our comrade mess-room sage:We do not know we are holding a book And turning over a page.
Camp fires flicker before our eyes: The troop-ships come and go:We smell the salt and the sun again For he tells us the things we know.
He dips his pen, and clear I see The track that the steamer sailed;I remember the light that leads me sure And the little lights that failed.
When the revel has died, as revels will, And the wide dawn shimmers paleI follow the road to Mandalay And the white Canadian trail;
And Passion, and Love, and Mirth go by 'Til the young dawn leaps to day,For he has written, with blood for ink, The things I have tried to say.