Had I a year to idle thro’,

     With cash to waste and no restriction,

I’d plan a programme to outdo

     The wildest feats of travel fiction.

On steamship guides I’d slake my thirst,

     And railway maps would make me wiser —

America consider’d first

     To please the local advertiser.

O’er England and the Continent

     I’d chart a course to shame the sages,

In each cathedral town intent

     To catch the colour of the ages.

Paris and Rome I would not miss;

     Without the Rhine I’d be no planner,

For one must make a jaunt like this

     A Grand Tour in the ancient manner!

But Europe is a trifle trite,

     So I would spare no pains in learning

How best to scan in casual flight

     The East, where sheiks and sands are burning.

I’d look up ferries on the Nile,

     And ‘bus fares for the trip to Mecca;

Have chemists test in proper style

     The drinking-fountain of Rebecca.

The route of ev’ry Tigris barge

     I’d note, and find how much they’d ask us;

What good hotels in Bagdad charge,

     And yellow taxis in Damascus.

And I would surely have on hand

     The folders of that great excursion,

The Golden Road to Samarcand,

     Thro’ Bahai bow’rs and gardens Persian.

Beyond, the Pullman rates I’d get

     For Kiao-chan and Yokohama,

Arranging passage thro’ Thibet

     To dally with the Dalai Lama.

In tropic isles I’d plan to stay

     Till South Sea melodies would bore me,

And for the North Pole book a day,

     Where only Peary went before me.

Thus might I scheme – till in the end

     The year would slip away unheeded,

My money safe with me to spend,

     And the wild outing scarcely needed!