I wander East, I wander West I wander where the ferries be— I wander, like a man possest From Zero to Infinity— From Harlem to the moaning Sea I tramp the city o'er and o'er— In hopeless search of Indian tea, Kulu, Assam, or Palampore. Joy turns to sorrow in my breast, I lunch at noon with Misery, Because of woe, untold, unguessed, That parts me from Humanity. What share have I in revelry, Who clamour at each grocer's door— 'For Pity's sake, some Indian tea Kulu, Assam, or Palampore!' They said that 'mild Oo Long was best Or Congou grown in far Tamsui— They tempted me with many a chest Packed by the gentle Japanee. Yet one (his name was Cassidy His venerable head was hoar) Cried:— 'Sir I've got some Indian tea, Kulu, Assam, or Palampore!' L'ENVOI Princess, enjoy with girlhood's zest When strikes the hour of half past three, The fragrant cup that with your guest You sip in Pennsylvaniee. This day to other lands I flee, Yet, ere the steamer takes me o'er Remember, by that Indian tea, Myself, as well as Palampore.