Page:The Five Nations.djvu/56

36 Asleep amid the yuccas

The city takes her ease—

Till twilight brings the land-wind

To our clicking jalousies.

Day long the diamond weather,

The high, unaltered blue—

The smell of goats and incense

And the mule-bells tinkling through.

Day long the warder ocean

That keeps us from our kin,

And once a month our levee

When the English mail comes in.

You'll find us up and waiting

To treat you at the bar;

You'll find us less exclusive

Than the average English are.

We'll meet you with our carriage,

Too glad to show you round.

But—we do not lunch on steamers,

For they are English ground.