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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508619" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Room 6: The Little Workgirl</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Three gentlemen live close beside me --<br>A painter of pictures bizarre,<br>A poet whose virtues might guide me,<br>A singer who plays the guitar;<br>And there on my lintel is Cupid;<br>I leave my door open, and yet<br>These gentlemen, aren't they stupid!<br>They never make love to Babette.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I go to the shop every morning;<br>I work with my needle and thread;<br>Silk, satin and velvet adorning,<br>Then luncheon on coffee and bread.<br>Then sewing and sewing till seven;<br>Or else, if the order I get,<br>I toil and I toil till eleven --<br>And such is the day of Babette.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It doesn't seem cheerful, I fancy;<br>The wage is unthinkably small;<br>And yet there is one thing I can say:<br>I keep a bright face through it all.<br>I chaff though my head may be aching;<br>I sing a gay song to forget;<br>I laugh though my heart may be breaking --<br>It's all in the life of Babette.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That gown, O my lady of leisure,<br>You begged to be &quot;finished in haste.&quot;<br>It gives you an exquisite pleasure,<br>Your lovers remark on its taste.<br>Yet . . . oh, the poor little white faces,<br>The tense midnight toil and the fret . . .<br>I fear that the foam of its laces<br>Is salt with the tears of Babette.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It takes a brave heart to be cheery<br>With no gleam of hope in the sky;<br>The future's so utterly dreary,<br>I'm laughing -- in case I should cry.<br>And if, where the gay lights are glowing,<br>I dine with a man I have met,<br>And snatch a bright moment -- who's going<br>To blame a poor little Babette?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And you, Friend beyond all the telling,<br>Although you're an ocean away,<br>Your pictures, they tell me, are selling,<br>You're married and settled, they say.<br>Such happiness one wouldn't barter;<br>Yet, oh, do you never regret<br>The Springtide, the roses, Montmartre,<br>Youth, poverty, love and -- Babette?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That blond-haired chap across the way<br>With sunny smile and voice so mellow,<br>He sings in some cheap cabaret,<br>Yet what a gay and charming fellow!<br>His breath with garlic may be strong,<br>What matters it? his laugh is jolly;<br>His day he gives to sleep and song:<br>His night's made up of song and folly.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</a><div class=q>
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<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=508619" data-title="Room 6: The Little Workgirl de Robert William Service" data-description="Three gentlemen live close beside me --
A painter of pictures bizarre,
A poet whose virtues might guide me,
A singer who plays the guitar;
And there on my lintel is Cupid;
I leave my door open, and yet
These gentlemen, aren't they stupid!
They nev..."></div>
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