Page:Ballads of a Bohemian.djvu/29

Rh Have glowed and mellowed In your cheer! Within this corner where I sit Banville and Coppée clashed their wit; And hither too, to dream and drain, And drown despair, came poor Verlaine. Here Wilde would talk and Singe would muse, Maybe like me with just ten sous. Ah! one is lucky. Is one not? With ghosts so rare to drain a pot! So may your custom never fail, O Tavern of the Golden Snail!

Lone amid the café’s cheer, Sad of heart am I to-night; Dolefully I drink my beer, But no single line I write. There’s the wretched rent to pay,