In Bohemia.

Ha! My dear! I'm back again -         Vendor of Bohemia's wares!      Lordy! How it pants a man         Climbing up those awful stairs!          Well, I've made the dealer say          Your sketch might sell, anyway!          And I've made a publisher          Hear my poem, Kate, my dear.      In Bohemia, Kate, my dear -         Lodgers in a musty flat      On the top floor - living here         Neighborless, and used to that, -          Like a nest beneath the eaves,          So our little home receives          Only guests of chirping cheer -          We'll be happy, Kate, my dear!      Under your north-light there, you         At your easel, with a stain      On your nose of Prussian blue,         Paint your bits of shine and rain;          With my feet thrown up at will          O'er my littered window-sill,          I write rhymes that ring as clear          As your laughter, Kate, my dear.      Puff my pipe, and stroke my hair -         Bite my pencil-tip and gaze      At you, mutely mooning there         O'er your "Aprils" and your "Mays!"          Equal inspiration in          Dimples of your cheek and chin,          And the golden atmosphere          Of your paintings, Kate, my dear!      Trying! Yes, at times it is,         To clink happy rhymes, and fling      On the canvas scenes of bliss,         When we are half famishing! -          When your "jersey" rips in spots,          And your hat's "forget-me-nots"          Have grown tousled, old and sere -          It is trying, Kate, my dear!      But - as sure - some picture sells,         And - sometimes - the poetry -      Bless us! How the parrot yells         His acclaims at you and me!          How we revel then in scenes          Of high banqueting! - sardines -          Salads - olives - and a sheer          Pint of sherry, Kate, my dear!      Even now I cross your palm,         With this great round world of gold! -      "Talking wild?" Perhaps I am -         Then, this little five-year-old! -          Call it anything you will,          So it lifts your face until          I may kiss away that tear          Ere it drowns me, Kate, my dear.