I TRAVELLED now from coast to coast— I came back only yesterday— I've been from Banff to Painted Post From Harrisburgh to Monterey, From Cedarhurst to San José, From Santa Cruz to Valley Forge— And yet, on all my witless way, I never called a waiter "George." I toured the country, same as most Who pilgrimage in quest of play. I paid two bits for buttered toast, And ninety cents for @3péche gelée.@1 I was a hick, the same as they Who come from Huntington or Norge; But though I seemed replete with hay, I never called a waiter "George." I never was a bard to boast, I never was a lad to bray; But do I not deserve a "Pros't!", A cross, a wreath of laurel-spray, For that, in diner and café, At jitney meal, Lucullan org- Y, dinner, luncheon, @3déjeuner,@1 I never called a waiter "George"? L'ENVOI Cast me, O Prince, in Hudson Bay, Shoot me across the Royal Gorge, But O remember, ere you slay, I never called a waiter "George." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YEARS OF THE MODERN by WALT WHITMAN INVITATION TO A PAINTER: 1 by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM HIS PRAYER TO PECUNIA by RICHARD BARNFIELD MY VOCATION by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 40 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH DA CAPO by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER |