<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416650" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>In Bohemia</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ha! My dear! I'm back again--<br>Vendor of Bohemia's wares!<br>Lordy! How it pants a man<br>Climbing up those awful stairs!<br>Well, I've made the dealer say<br>Your sketch _might_ sell, anyway!<br>And I've made a publisher<br>Hear my poem, Kate, my dear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In Bohemia, Kate, my dear--<br>Lodgers in a musty flat<br>On the top floor--living here<br>Neighborless, and used to that,--<br>Like a nest beneath the eaves,<br>So our little home receives<br>Only guests of chirping cheer--<br>We'll be happy, Kate, my dear!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Under your north-light there, you<br>At your easel, with a stain<br>On your nose of Prussian blue,<br>Paint your bits of shine and rain;<br>With my feet thrown up at will<br>O'er my littered window-sill,<br>I write rhymes that ring as clear<br>As your laughter, Kate, my dear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Puff my pipe, and stroke my hair--<br>Bite my pencil-tip and gaze<br>At you, mutely mooning there<br>O'er your 'Aprils' and your 'Mays!'<br>Equal inspiration in<br>Dimples of your cheek and chin,<br>And the golden atmosphere<br>Of your paintings, Kate, my dear!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">_Trying_! Yes, at times it is,<br>To clink happy rhymes, and fling<br>On the canvas scenes of bliss,<br>When we are half famishing!--<br>When your 'jersey' rips in spots,<br>And your hat's 'forget-me-nots'<br>Have grown tousled, old and sere--<br>It is trying, Kate, my dear!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But--as sure--_some_ picture sells,<br>And--sometimes--the poetry--<br>Bless us! How the parrot yells<br>His acclaims at you and me!<br>How we revel then in scenes<br>Of high banqueting!--sardines--<br>Salads--olives--and a sheer<br>Pint of sherry, Kate, my dear!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even now I cross your palm,<br>With this great round world of gold!--<br>'Talking wild?' Perhaps I am--<br>Then, this little five-year-old!--<br>Call it anything you will,<br>So it lifts your face until<br>I may kiss away that tear<br>Ere it drowns me, Kate, my dear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Whitcomb+Riley">James Whitcomb Riley</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416650" data-title="In Bohemia de James Whitcomb Riley" data-description="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,..."></div> </div> </div>

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