Meanwhile the palm-trees and the hills
Have lacked a bard to voice their lay;
Poet, ere time your lyre string stills,
Sing us again of Mandalay!
Unsung the East lies glimmering,
Unsung the palm trees toss their frills,
Unsung the seas their splendors fling,
The while you prate of laws and tills.
Each man his destiny fulfills;
Can it be yours to loose and stray;