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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
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Ballads of a Bohemian
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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.~
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