by Arthur Wade
I am sitting in my office, in my office all alone,
Listening to the tramcars and the city's distant drone;
I've a pile of letters round me and a lot of work to do,
A heap of things marked 'urgent' that I should be pushing through;
But the sun is casting shadows all along the eastern wall,
And through the open window I can hear a distant call;
So my pen is lying idle and I'm dreaming in my chair,
For the zephyrs bid me listen to the messages they bear.
But I must be up and doing for the day is growing old,
And waking fellows dreaming, and the story has been told
That a man must chase the rainbow ere he finds his pot of gold.
Arthur Wade (1947)