Page:Ballads of a Bohemian.djvu/108

106 And you, Friend beyond all the telling, Although you’re an ocean away, Your pictures, they tell me, are selling, You’re married and settled, they say. Such happiness one wouldn’t barter; Yet, oh, do you never regret The Springtide, the roses, Montmartre, Youth, poverty, love and–Babette?

''That blond-haired chap across the way ''With sunny smile and voice so mellow, ''He sings in some cheap cabaret, ''Yet what a gay and charming fellow! ''His breath with garlic may be strong, ''What matters it? his laugh is jolly; ''His day he gives to sleep and song: ''His night’s made up of song and folly.

I’m one of these haphazard chaps Who sit in cafés drinking; A most improper taste, perhaps, Yet pleasant, to my thinking. For, oh, I hate discord and strife; I’m sadly, weakly human; And I do think the best of life Is wine and song and woman.