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Ballads of a Bohemian
Robert W. Service
[British-born Canadian Poet -- 1874-1958.]
Author of "The Spell of the Yukon", "Ballads of a Cheechako", "Rhymes of a Red Cross Man", etc.
[Note on text: Italicized words or phrases are marked by tildes (~). Lines longer than 78 characters are broken (according to metre) and the continuation is indented two spaces. Some obvious errors may have been corrected.]
[Note on accents: Due to the great number of French words used in this text, accents are marked as followed: "/", "\", "^", or "," immediately *follows* the character it accents. "Cafe/", "fe^te", "cha^teau", "garc,on", and "me^le/e" are given without accents as they have been absorbed into the English language. "Finiste\re", "Fourrage\re" and "mo^me" are given without accents due to excessive repetition.]
Ballads of a Bohemian
By Robert W. Service
CONTENTS
Prelude
BOOK ONE?SPRING
I
My Garret?Julot the ~Apache~
II
~L'Escargot D'Or~?It Is Later Than You Think?Noctambule
III
Insomnia?Moon Song?The Sewing-Girl
IV
Lucille?On the Boulevard?Facility
V
Golden Days?The Joy of Little Things?The Absinthe Drinkers
BOOK TWO?EARLY SUMMER
I
The Release?The Wee Shop?The Philistine and the Bohemian
II
The Bohemian Dreams?A Domestic Tragedy?The Pencil Seller
III
Fi-Fi in Bed?Gods in the Gutter?The Death of Marie Toro
IV
The Bohemian?The Auction Sale?The Joy of Being Poor
V
My Neighbors?Room 4: The Painter Chap?Room 6: The Little Workgirl?Room 5: The Concert Singer?Room 7: The Coco-Fiend
BOOK THREE?LATE SUMMER
I
The Philanderer?The ~Petit Vieux~?My Masterpiece?My Book?My Hour
II
A Song of Sixty-Five?Teddy Bear?The Outlaw?The Walkers
III
Poor Peter?The Wistful One?If You Had a Friend?The Contented Man?The Spirit of the Unborn Babe
IV
Finistere?Old David Smail?The Wonderer?Oh, It Is Good
V
I Have Some Friends?The Quest?The Comforter?The Other One?Catastrophe
BOOK FOUR?WINTER
I
Priscilla?A Casualty?The Blood-Red ~Fourragere~?Jim
II
Kelly of the Legion?The Three Tommies?The Twa Jocks
III
His Boys?The Booby-Trap?Bonehead Bill
IV
A Lapse of Time and a Word of Explanation?Michael?The Wife?Victory Stuff?Was It You?
V
~Les Grands Mutiles~?The Sightless Man?The Legless Man?The Faceless Man
L'Envoi
Ballads of a Bohemian
Prelude
~Alas! upon some starry height,?The Gods of Excellence to please,?This hand of mine will never smite?The Harp of High Serenities.?Mere minstrel of the street am I,?To whom a careless coin you fling;?But who, beneath the bitter sky,?Blue-lipped, yet insolent of eye,?Can shrill a song of Spring;?A song of merry mansard days,?The cheery chimney-tops among;?Of rolics and of roundelays?When we were young . . . when we were young;?A song of love and lilac nights,?Of wit, of wisdom and of wine;?Of Folly whirling on the Heights,?Of hunger and of hope divine;?Of Blanche, Suzette and Celestine,?And all that gay and tender band?Who shared with us the fat, the lean,?The hazard of Illusion-land;?When scores of Philistines we slew?As mightily with brush and pen?We sought to make the world anew,?And scorned the gods of other men;?When we were fools divinely wise,?Who held it rapturous to strive;?When Art was sacred in our eyes,?And it was Heav'n to be alive. . . .
O days of glamor, glory, truth,?To you to-night I raise my glass;?O freehold of immortal youth,?Bohemia, the lost, alas!?O laughing lads who led the romp,?Respectable you've grown, I'm told;?Your heads you bow to power and pomp,?You've learned to know the worth of gold.?O merry maids who shared our cheer,?Your eyes are dim, your locks are gray;?And as you scrub I sadly fear?Your daughters speed the dance to-day.?O windmill land and crescent moon!?O Columbine and Pierrette!?To you my old guitar I tune?Ere I forget, ere I forget. . . .
So come, good men who toil and tire,?Who smoke and sip the kindly cup,?Ring round about the tavern fire?Ere yet you drink your liquor up;?And hear my simple songs of earth,?Of youth and truth and living things;?Of poverty and proper mirth,?Of rags and rich imaginings;?Of cock-a-hoop, blue-heavened days,?Of hearts elate and eager breath,?Of wonder, worship, pity, praise,?Of sorrow, sacrifice and death;?Of lusting, laughter, passion, pain,?Of lights that lure and dreams that thrall . . .?And if a golden word I gain,?Oh, kindly folks, God save you all!?And if you shake your heads in blame . . .?Good friends, God love you all the same.~
BOOK ONE
SPRING
I
Montparnasse,
April 1914.
All day the sun has shone into my little attic, a bitter sunshine that brightened yet did not warm. And so as I toiled and toiled doggedly enough, many were the looks I cast at the three faggots I had saved to cook my evening meal. Now, however, my supper is over, my pipe alight, and as I stretch my legs before the embers I have at last a glow of comfort, a glimpse of peace.
My Garret
Here is my Garret up five flights of
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