ON THE BOULEVARD
47
over me a desire to write. C’était plus fort que moi. So instead of going to the Folies Bergère I spent all evening in the Omnium Bar near the Bourse, and wrote the following:
ON THE BOULEVARD
Oh, it’s pleasant sitting here,
Seeing all the people pass;
You beside your bock of beer,
I behind my demi-tasse.
Chatting of no matter what.
You the Mummer, I the Bard;
Oh, it’s jolly, is it not?—
Sitting on the Boulevard.
More amusing than a book,
If a chap has eyes to see;
For, no matter where I look,
Stories, stories jump at me.
Moving tales my pen might write;
Poems plain on every face;
Monologues you could recite
With inimitable grace.
(Ah! Imagination’s power)
See yon demi-mondaine there.
Idly toying with a flower.
Smiling with a pensive air…
Well, her smile is but a mask.
For I saw within her muff
