My garret--near the sky 'twas set -
The April hours, the nights of May?
The clear calm nights--the stars above
That whispered they were fairest seen
Through no cloud-veil? Remember, love!
Do you remember, love Christine?

Louise is dead, and, well-a-day!
Marie a sadder path has ta'en;
And pale Christine has passed away
In southern suns to bloom again.
Alas! for one and all of us -
Marie, Louise, Christine forget;
Our bower of love is ruinous,
And I alone remember yet.



MUSETTE.
HENRI MURGER. 1850



Yesterday, watching the swallows' flight
That bring the spring and the season fair,
A moment I thought of the beauty bright
Who loved me, when she had time to spare;
And dreamily, dreamily all the day,
I mused on the calendar of the year,
The year so near and so far away,