Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE BOHEMIAN DREAMS, by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Because my overcoat's in pawn Last Line: I doze and doze and doze. Subject(s): Bohemians; Idleness; Paris, France; Sleep; Laziness; Sloth; Indolence | ||||||||
BECAUSE my overcoat's in pawn, I choose to take my glass Within a little bistro on The rue du Montparnasse; The dusty bins with bottles shine, The counter's lined with zinc, And there I sit and drink my wine, And think and think and think. I think of hoary old Stamboul, Of Moslem and of Greek, Of Persian in coat of wool, Of Kurd and Arab sheikh; Of all the types of weal and woe, And as I raise my glass, Across Galata bridge I know They pass and pass and pass. I think of citron-trees aglow, Of fan-palms shading down, Of sailors dancing heel and toe With wenches black and brown; And though it's all an ocean far From Yucatan to France, I'll bet beside the old bazaar They dance and dance and dance. I think of Monte Carlo, where The pallid croupiers call, And in the gorgeous, guilty air The gamblers watch the ball; And as I flick away the foam With which my beer is crowned, The wheels beneath the gilded dome Go round and round and round. I think of vast Niagara, Those gulfs of foam a-shine, Whose mighty roar would stagger a More prosy bean than mine; And as the hours I idly spend Against a greasy wall, I know that green the waters bend And fall and fall and fall. I think of Nijni Novgorod And Jews who never rest; And womenfolk with spade and hod Who slave in Buda-Pest; Of squat and sturdy Japanese Who pound the paddy soil, And as I loaf and smoke at ease They toil and toil and toil. I think of shries in Hindustan, Of cloistral glooms in Spain, Of minarets in Ispahan, Of St. Sophia's fane, Of convent towers in Palestine, Of temples in Cathay, And as I stretch and sip my wine They pray and pray and pray. And so my dreams I dwell within, And visions come and go, And life is passing like a Cin- Ematographic Show; Till just as surely as my pipe Is underneath my nose, Amid my visions rich and ripe I doze and doze and doze. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AGAINST WHATEVER IT IS THAT'S ENCROACHING by CHARLES SIMIC NIKOS AT 42 by REETIKA VAZIRANI ODE ON INDOLENCE by JOHN KEATS IDLENESS by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL VAIN EXCUSE by WALTER CONRAD ARENSBERG CLANCY OF THE MOUNTED POLICE by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE |
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