 | Poems |  |
107
BEAU RIVAGE HOTEL
SATURDAY EVENING
Below there's a brumming and strumming
And twiddling and fiddling amain,
And sweeping of muslins and laughter,
And pattering of luminous rain.
And twiddling and fiddling amain,
And sweeping of muslins and laughter,
And pattering of luminous rain.
Fair England, resplendent Columbia,
Gaul, Teuton,—how precious a smother!
But the happiest is brisk little Polly
To galop with only her brother.
Gaul, Teuton,—how precious a smother!
But the happiest is brisk little Polly
To galop with only her brother.
And up to the fourth étage landing,
Come the violins' passionate cries,
Where the pale femme-de-chambre is sitting
With sleep in her beautiful eyes.
Come the violins' passionate cries,
Where the pale femme-de-chambre is sitting
With sleep in her beautiful eyes.
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