My Bohemian Existence

I went off with my hands in my torn coat pockets;
my overcoat too was becoming ideal;

I travelled beneath the sky,

Muse! and I was your vassal;

Oh dear me! what marvellous lovesI dreamed of!

My only pair of breecheshad a big hole in them. --Stargazing Tom Thumb,

I sowed my rhymes along the way.

My tavern was at the Sign of the Great Bear.-- My stars in the sky rustled softly.

And I listened to them, sitting on the road-sideson those pleasant September eveningswhile I felt drops of dew on my foreheadlike vigorous wine; and while,
rhyming among the fantastical shadows,

I plucked the strings of a lyrethe elastics of my tattered boots,
one foot close to my heart!