Fifty Years & Other Poems/Down by the Carib Sea
Down By the Carib Sea
ISunrise in the Tropics
Sol, Sol, mighty lord of the tropic zone, Here I wait with the trembling stars To see thee once more take thy throne.
There the patient palm tree watching Waits to say, "Good morn" to thee, And a throb of expectation Pulses through the earth and me.
Now, o'er nature falls a hush, Look! the East is all a-blush; And a growing crimson crest Dims the late stars in the west; Now, a flood of golden light Sweeps across the silver night, Swift the pale moon fades away Before the light-girt King of Day, See! the miracle is done!Once more behold! The Sun!
IILos Cigarillos
This is the land of the dark-eyed gente,Of the dolce far niente,Where we dream awayBoth the night and day,At night-time in sleep our dreams we invoke,Our dreams come by day through the redolent smoke,As it lazily curls,And slowly unfurlsFrom our lips,And the tipsOf our fragrant cigarillos.For life in the tropics is only a joke,So we pass it in dreams, and we pass it in smoke,Smoke—smoke—smoke.
Tropical constitutionsCall for occasional revolutions;But after that's through,Why there's nothing to doBut smoke—smoke;
For life in the tropics is only a joke,So we pass it in dreams, and we pass it in smoke,Smoke—smoke—smoke.
IIITeestay
Of tropic sensations, the worstIs, sin duda, the tropical thirst.
When it starts in your throat and constantly grows,Till you feel that it reaches down to your toes,When your mouth tastes like furAnd your tongue turns to dust,There's but one thing to do,And do it you must,Drink teestay.
Teestay, a drink with a history,A delicious, delectable mystery,"Cinco centavos el vaso, señor,"If you take one, you will surely want more.
Teestay, teestay,The national drink on a feast day;How it coolingly tickles,As downward it trickles,Teestay, teestay.
And you wish, as you take it down at a quaff,That your neck was constructed à la giraffe.Teestay, teestay.
IVThe Lottery Girl
"Lottery, lottery,Take a chance at the lottery?Take a ticket,Or, better, take two;Who knows what the futureMay hold for you?Lottery, lottery,Take a chance at the lottery?"
Oh, limpid-eyed girl,I would take every chance,If only the prizeWere a love-flashing glanceFrom your fathomless eyes.
"Lottery, lottery,Try your luck at the lottery?Consider the sizeOf the capital prize,And take ticketsFor the lottery.Tickets, señor? Tickets, señor?Take a chance at the lottery?"
Oh, crimson-lipped girl,With the magical smile, I would count that the gambleWere well worth the while,Not a chance would I miss,If only the prizeWere a honey-bee kissGathered in sipsFrom those full-ripened lips,And a love-flashing glanceFrom your eyes.
VThe Dancing Girl
Do you know what it is to dance?Perhaps, you do know, in a fashion;But by dancing I mean,Not what's generally seen,But dancing of fire and passion,Of fire and delirious passion.
With a dusky-haired señorita,Her dark, misty eyes near your own,And her scarlet-red mouth,Like a rose of the south,The reddest that ever was grown,So close that you catchHer quick-panting breathAs across your own face it is blown,With a sigh, and a moan.
Ah! that is dancing,As here by the Carib it's known.
Now, whirling and twirlingLike furies we go;Now, soft and caressingAnd sinuously slow;With an undulating motion,Like waves on a breeze-kissed ocean:—And the scarlet-red mouthIs nearer your own,And the dark, misty eyesStill softer have grown.
Ah! that is dancing, that is loving,As here by the Carib they're known.
VISunset in the Tropics
A silver flash from the sinking sun,Then a shot of crimson across the skyThat, bursting, lets a thousand colors flyAnd riot among the clouds; they run,Deepening in purple, flaming in gold,Changing, and opening fold after fold,Then fading through all of the tints of the rose into gray,Till, taking quick fright at the coming night,They rush out down the west,In hurried questOf the fleeing day.
Now above where the tardiest color flares a moment yet,One point of light, now two, now three are setTo form the starry stairs,—And, in her fire-fly crown,Queen Night, on velvet slippered feet, comes softly down.