THE TRAVELING MAN

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.