Old Ralph Ransom sailed the sea— Sailed the whole vast ocean through— And returning brought to me These rare cakes of Honeydew. Blessings on old Raleigh's head— Though upon the block it fell— For the knowledge he first spread Of the herb I love so well! 'Tis a talisman defies All that care and want can do There are few things that I prize Like Ralph Ransome's Honeydew! Tell me not of lotos-plants— How the lotos-eaters lay Lazily in shady haunts Dreaming all their time away! There's a drowsier charm in this Than in lotos;—if, indeed, That same plant aught other is Than the soothing Indian weed:— Were it not, in truth then if I were of Ulysses' crew, I'd far rather have a whiff Of Ralph Ransome's Honeydew! Peace to old Ralph Ransome's bones Wheresoever they are lain, In some island of the zones, In the distant Spanish main. This Nepenthe which he brought, Only careful memories ends— Does not drown one kindly thought Of my rarest of old friends. As I muse thus, lapt in bliss, Upwards floats the vapour blue— The apotheosis this Of Ralph Ransome's Honeydew! |