Page:Ballads of a Bohemian.djvu/100

98 When all the roads were one to me, and each had its allure… Ye Gods! these were the happy days, the days when I was poor.

Or else, again, old pal of mine, do you recall the times You struggled with your storyettes, I wrestled with my rhymes; Oh, we were happy, were we not?–we used to live so “high” (A little bit of broken roof between us and the sky); Upon the forge of art we toiled with hammer and with tongs; You told me all your ripping yams, I sang to you my songs. Our hats were frayed, our jackets patched, our boots were down at heel, But oh, the happy men were we, although we lacked a meal. And if I sold a bit of rhyme, or if you placed a tale, What feasts we had of tenderloins and apple-tarts and ale! And yet how often we would dine as cheerful as you please, Beside our little friendly fire on coffee, bread and cheese.